Extreme
Posted by Heather on October 4, 2008 at 10:22 PM
I took Bobbin to soccer today. The new class she's in doesn't "require" parent participation on the field; encourages the kids to go on the field by themselves. Most of us parents though, end up starting out on the field and slowly backing off to the sidelines once things get going :-) And throughout the "game", Robyn and other kids will run back to the sidelines for a quick hug and kiss :-) She's doing really well with this arrangement. It helps that her BFF is in the same class with her. She starts off shy but quickly gets into her groove once all the running and ball kicking starts.
So we're there this morning, and Bobbin is on the field with the other kids, and this mom and her daughter - can't be more than 3 years old - show up a bit late. The mom tells the little girl to go ahead out on the field and the little girl freaks out and begs her mom to come with her. Her mom refuses, and tells her to go out there now. The little girl launches a temper tantrum, crying and screaming and begging not to go. The mom starts shouting "I'm sick and tired of these tantrums". I can relate to the emotion and frustration in her voice; a day of tantrums is really really really rough. And I take antidepressants. Then the mom yells "Get on the field NOW". More crying and screaming. The Mom then says "If you're not going to play soccer, then give me your soccer uniform. It's mine". At this point the hysterics get much louder and I stand aside from where I had been watching Bobbin and turn around and see that the mom has stripped her daughter down naked except for her underpants, right in the middle of the soccer arena - kids and parents and coaches everywhere - and starts marching her down towards the main area in nothing but her undies. The little girl is in tears. I was in tears. I wanted to reach out and hug the little girl. I wanted to keep her warm. I wanted to at least wrap something around her for her to be comfortable. I did nothing. I did not know what I could do or should do. I suck. And felt ashamed and like a horrible human being for witnessing this and doing nothing.
About 5 minutes later the little girl was back, fully clothed, with her father. She was not crying. She was holding her father's hand. I did not see the mother. The father took her out onto the field and she went without crying. He stayed with her a bit as they played. He slowly backed off the field; the same routine the rest of us parents took. For a few seconds she was ok, but then she ran back to her father, who scooped her up and carried her away.
I still feel sick to my stomach. For what I watched and also what I didn't do.
Every mom has those moments. You've been listening to the tantrums and fighting the battle of wills too much and you just want it to stop. And you say or do something you'd never have done in a level headed, logical moment. It's tiring and hard, and draining. So I can see how a person gets there. I've been there. It's once your there and what you decide to do about it that matters. Yelling... I've done it. Threatening the loss of a special treat ("No McDonalds at lunch" or "No movie after dinner"). Yup. Locking myself in my room for some "quiet time". Done it. Carried my daughter out of a public place because she was screaming and throwing food. Yup. Straight to the car and home. But this was extreme. Before I got to the point that I was stripping my daughter down naked in a public place and forcing her to walk through the building while berating her for being a crying baby, I believe I'd get quiet, pick her up, carry her to the car, and just go home. And then later we'd talk about what the issue was with soccer. If Tim was with me and I was feeling that overwhelmed, before I got to that point I'd hand him the reigns and go to the bathroom and have myself a quiet cry. In either case, my daughter wouldn't be forced onto a field she didn't want to be on to play a game she didn't want to play, with a bunch of strangers she didn't know in order to avoid being stripped down to her underpants as punishment.
What would you do if you had been me?
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debate day
Posted by Heather on September 26, 2008 at 11:25 PM
I left Bobbin in tears. Meaning, she was in tears and I was in tears. Our new Preschool has very limited parking, and so if the director sees your car has been out there for "a while", as is the case this first week of Bobbin attending by herself, they tell you you need to get a move on. They're polite and all, but it broke my rhythm, and after having to pull myself away from the pleading hug to not go to work and then mustering a cheerfully sunny smile and wave from the car before breaking down into tears of my own, I headed in to work.
Debate: Go to work and lose myself in hopeful productivity, or go home and lose myself in my king size bed cover. I called Tim and have him remind me why I don't suck as a mother AND an employee / senior manager.
at 2pm my head was filled with snot, my eyes were glazed after staring at budget spreadsheets all day. I can only breath through my mouth. My head is pounding.
Debate: Leave work early on a friday; who's gonna notice, Stay and get my budget stuff done so I don't have it hanging over my head, which already has a cloud of snot hanging over it right now. I cranked out the budget stuff, kept my scheduled 1:1s. Headed out at my usual 5pm.
By the time I got home, after chugging down a large bottle of organic fresh squeezed orange juice in the car, I started thinking about plans for the evening.
Debate: Stay home, take a really long, hot, aromatherapy bubble bath, wrap myself up in my big cozy bathrobe, and snuggle under the covers of my big cozy bed while Tim takes Bobbin to D,B, and Z's house for friday night. Or do I give myself a break and enjoy a nice dinner with friends while Bobbin (hopefully) plans with Z and E. Iwas feeling better by the time I got home, after all that orange juice, and chasing it down with an Airborne fizz, that I decided to wash my hands thoroughly and join the gang.
On the drive, we listened to the presidential debate. Well, as well as we could with a 3 year old belting out songs from the back seat. It's ok, we recorded it. And so once we got Bobbin in bed at 9:45am we turned it on. Tim went to bed before it was over but I plowed through all 90 minutes of it. It was alright. I tell ya, the one I'm REALLY looking forward to is the vice-presidential debate!
Here's something I won't debate: I'm tired. Heading to bed.
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Bracing for the storm
Posted by Heather on September 11, 2008 at 10:11 PM
4 days of 60 consecutive minutes of aerobic workout, 2 days of 30 consecutive minute workouts. Technically I've exceeded my weekly goal of 3 60s and 2 30s and I'm only 5 days into the week! I'm gonna need the extra credit.. next week's gonna be a bitch.
Tim and I made a very very very hard decision today to enroll Bobbin in a new preschool. Her current daycare, as I've mentioned previously, served us well for 3 years but over the course of the summer a lot of changes happened and despite us trying to work with them on getting to some common ground, it just wasn't on a path to getting resolved to our satisfaction. And so we began a search for new options this week, and wham bam, in the informed yet decisive way that is mine, we have analyzed the results, assessed the risks, and made a decision.
Bobbin's last day at her current daycare will be Monday. We started talking with her about it today, and will spend time talking with her about it in depth tomorrow, Saturday, Sunday and Monday. We'll write cards to the teachers to say thank you and goodbye. We''ll write notes to the parents of her friends with our contact info so we can hopefully get the kids together semi-regularly since she's been with many of them for 3 years now.
Tim and I are sure we have made the right choice. The teacher and classroom consistency is what we are looking for, the teachers are highly qualified and from what I've seen from my visits there, are highly interactive and clearly care about the children. Three different parent reference checks came back with glowing feedback, as well as some concrete things that they'd like to see the school do better but none of those things are deal-breakers. Overall I think it is a much more stable and consistent and dependable environment than the one she is in currently.
I took Bobbin there today on the way home from her other school. We talked about where I was taking her. We arrived and she marched up the steps like she owned it, and started looking around the room as I talked with the director. Actively looking. Touching. I was surprised. Then I told her we could go check out the playground and the forest and that was all she needed to hear. We were there for about an hour; the buildings had all closed but the director said we can use the outdoor grounds any time - weekends, etc - now that she's enrolled. We'll take her up on that this weekend. Get Bobbin feeling familiar with the space.
To accomodate the transition I'm taking Tuesday morning off, and we'll spend a half-day at her new school together and then come home for the rest of the day, during which I'll attempt to work from home. On Wednesday Tim will take her to the new school and they'll spend a half day there together and then come home for the rest of the day while I work all day. Thursday and Friday I'll spend all day with Bobbin at her new school hangin'. Saturday and Sunday we'll go play there together. Monday I'll spend half a day there with her and then hopefully, leave her there on her own and happy the rest of the day.
That's the plan. It's complicated. And while I wouldn't have done anything different, I do feel guilty about the two mornings I've taken off from work this week to tour daycare centers and interview daycare directors. Tim's had to do the same. And now I'm taking 2 and a half days off next week and a half day off the following week.
Next week, I predict that my wednesday blog entry will be filled with regrets and self doubts about whether we did the right thing for Bobbin; whether I'm meeting my responsibilities at work; etc. etc.
And so the vicious cycle continues.
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Brrriiiiiing... Hello? Is this Mommy's bluff? Hey! I've been trying to call you all day. Where ya been?
Posted by Heather on September 11, 2008 at 9:25 PM
Me: Ok, let's get dressed.
Bobbin: No.
Me: No watermelon juice till you get dressed.
Bobbin: Ok. I don't WANT watermelon juice. I don't want to get dressed. I want to play.
Me: No Curious George till you get dressed.
Bobbin: I don't WANT to watch TV. I want to play.
Me: Daddy will have to take you to school if you don't get dressed now.
Bobbin: NO! MOMMY!
Score one for me.
...
Me: Ok honey, let's go home.
Bobbin: No.
Me: No TV. No Candy. No stories before bedtime if you don't come with me now.
Bobbin: No. I want to play. 5 minutes.
Me: No 5 minutes; I already gave you 5 minutes. We need to leave now.
Bobbin: 2 minutes.
Me: You'll miss out on dinner: Hotdogs and macaroni and cheese - if we don't leave now.
Bobbin: It's gonna get cold?
Me: Yes.
Bobbin: I don't want dinner. I want to play.
Me: (coming up blank) Ok then...
Bobbin: You gonna leave without me?
Me: (pausing briefly) No. I can't leave without you. I'd get arrested. But I will pick you up and carry you to the car if I have to.
Bobbin: I'm COMING. I SAID I am coming. You don't NEED to get ANGRY. That's NOT ok.
...
Bobbin: I don't WANT to wash my hands and face.
Me: You rubbed hotdog on your cheeks. You have to wash your face. Do you want Tommy to lick you?
Bobbin: SHUT UP!
Me: (carrying her into her room and depositing her on her bed) You do NOT say those words to me or to anyone. That was rude and disrespectful. That is NOT ok to say.
Bobbin: Caleb says it at school.
Me: I don't care who says it. It's not ok to say. Does the teacher tell Caleb not to say it at school?
Bobbin: Yes.
Me: Then no more.
Bobbin: SHUT UP.
Me: Time out time. 3 minutes.
Bobbin: (as I'm walking out of her room and closing her door, she's singing to herself) Twinkle, twinkle little star... Shut UP Cinderella! I like you.
...
Yes Dad, Mom... payback's a bitch.
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I'm not one, am I?
Posted by Heather on September 5, 2008 at 10:04 PM
I can't help but second guess myself, after seeing an episode of Dr. Phil (or was it Oprah?) recently about Helicopter Moms. This is the letter I recently wrote to our daycare director. I don't think it's over the top. But I still wonder if I'm over protective or if they'll read this and think I'm just another nutjob Mom trying to protect her daughter from everyday life.
To: The Director and Management Staff
My daughter has been in the care of this daycare for almost 3 years and overall I have been very happy with her experience and with the quality of care and level of support she is receiving here. The teachers are skilled, professional, caring, and clearly have my daughter’s best interests at heart. She has formed great bonds of trust, respect, and love with each of her primary teachers throughout these years and I have been overall very satisfied and confident with my choice to entrust her daytime care to the staff at this location. The fact that many of the teachers have been on the staff for multiple years also speaks to the fact that the management clearly values the teachers and provides a supportive environment for them in which they can and want to do their best work. Prior to [Director's Name] leave of absence I felt well informed about what was happening in the school, and was pleased that when I did on occasion raise concerns or issues, that she understood them and took swift and appropriate action and always followed back up with me. I felt that this level of information and diligence was well maintained by [Acting Director] in the initial weeks after [Director's] absence. However I have become increasingly concerned over the last several weeks on the following points and although I have voiced my concerns verbally on several occasions, I’ve not seen any real indications of sustained change or commitment to change and thus feel the need to formally communicate my concerns via this letter.
My concerns:
1) The lack of consistency in the physical classroom and teacher that my daughter begins her day with. During the month of August , at least twice a week, we would arrive at school at 8:30am expecting to be able to go to the Toddler class until Preschool opened only to be told upon arrival that the regular Toddler class teacher was taking one of the older classes that morning due to lack of students in the Preschool class. That combined with the natural and expected occasional absences of teachers due to doctor appointments, scheduled vacations, or sick days where I understand and respect the fact that accommodations have to be made and routines temporarily changed to cover, meant a significant amount of inconsistency in my daughter’s morning routine. This manifested itself in my daughter’s behavior in the form of increasingly anxiety going to bed at night and in the morning when getting ready for school because she was not sure which teacher or class she was going to end up in. Just this morning, we arrived at 8:30am to find that none the age-appropriate classes were open and that all of the children in the daycare at that time (all age groups) were divided between two classes. As I stood in the hall with my daughter trying to determine where she was to go, there was confusion and delay as the teachers tried to determine whether or not to open the age-appropriate classrooms and how to divide up the children and who would go to each class. I appreciate that this school is a business that, like any other, is concerned about keeping costs low and consolidating where possible to save money but the lack of consistency especially for the younger age groups and especially during a time of transition, is extremely destabilizing and disruptive and ultimately the cost is borne out by the child who no longer has a sense of safety and predictability in routine.
2) The lack of advanced notice – both verbal and written - regarding permanent or semi-permanent changes that are being made to the teacher and physical classroom in which my daughter will begin her day. In August a decision was apparently made by Management that the larger back classroom would become the EPreschool classroom and that [Teacher] would be the Preschool classroom teacher from 8:30am until the regular teacher arrived. I was not informed of this change until the day before it occurred, and that was only after I had initiated the conversation, and even then I was not given a firm timeframe as to when the change would occur, nor was I given a clear answer as to whether it was a permanent or semi-permanent change. Advance notice of such changes enables me to prepare my daughter in advance so that she knows what to expect when she arrives at school.
3) The lack of formal written notification regarding staff changes and new staff introductions. In recent weeks I’ve perceived a change in the staff administration and management. I am not sure whether there has in fact been a change in administration and management but there have been several indications that something is different. It is unclear to me whether [Staff Member] is now part of the administrative staff and what her role is; it is not clear who is responsible for teacher staffing decisions and teacher scheduling; it is not clear whether [Acting Director's] role has changed and if so what her current responsibilities are and what her hours of availability are. It is also not clear whether [Director's] leave of absence is extended and whether she will be returning or whether her responsibilities are being permanently reassigned to someone else. It is not clear who I should voice complaints or concerns to, and who will follow up on them when I do voice them.
4) The lack of clear, published, and firmly committed opening time for the Preschool classes. I have asked multiple times for a firmly committed opening time for class, and every time I’m told that the start time is “usually around 8:30am”. I need to be able to count on a consistent start time for my daughter’s class opening in order to be able to appropriately plan my work schedule, and in order for my daughter to have a consistent, predictable, reliable routine and schedule. “Usually around 8:30am unless something comes up” is not a firm commitment.
5) More proactive sharing of information during transition from one classroom to the next. When my daughter reached the age where she could begin transitioning to the Preschool class, I did receive a written letter informing me of her readiness and of the target transition start date. But there was no additional information provided about the following basics:
a. The name of the teacher(s) who would be in charge of the class
b. What time the class opened daily
c. What the teacher(s)’ schedules are (are there different teachers at different times of the day as with previous classes; is it one teacher from 8:30 – 5:30, etc)
d. What the approximate class size would be (would there just be one teacher with one class in the room, or would there be two teachers in the room for a larger number of children)
e. Whether the level of detail would change in the reports we received (will there continue to be a daily report or is it now a weekly report)
f. What if any key differences in the daily routine we should expect and prep our daughter for (or if the routine is generally the same – e.g. snack times, lunch times, nap times, etc indication that these things will not change significantly from what she is used to).
6) The lack of consistent reporting in the Preschool classroom. This is never an issue when the primary teacher is present. The primary teacher is extremely diligent in providing clear, daily communication via the daily preschool reports on my daughter’s behavior and activity during the day. However it is a constant issue if someone other than the primary teacher has been running the class or if my daughter’s been placed into another class due to a teacher absence or for load balancing reasons, which as per my previous points, has been occurring with increasing frequency in recent weeks.
As I mentioned in my opening of this letter, overall I have been happy with the quality of care and support that my daughter receives but these changes are causing me to rethink my child care decisions and to look at other options that can provide more stability and predictability for her and that are more proactive in communicating with parents. It is unfortunate because my daughter has formed some strong bonds with the staff here, and strong friendships with the other children in her class. But the lack of predictability and consistent routine has been extremely disruptive to her – she has increased difficulty getting to sleep; she is increasingly anxious in the morning before school; she is having an increasingly difficult time separating from me in the mornings.
Please let me know your response to these concerns.
Tell me... am I a nutjob mom who is overreacting?
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Sending out an RFP: Request to Fess-up Please
Posted by Heather on August 18, 2008 at 11:17 PM
I was reading another blog earlier today and in it in passing was stated a fact or an assumption (I don't remember which, or even if it was clear) that many moms the author knows who work full time as well, solicit help from services like housecleaning, meal prep, grocery buying, etc. etc. And I was thinking that none o the moms that I know, get this kind of domestic help on a recurring basis. And then I met a coworker who admitted her housecleaning service was off for two weeks because they ran into some unexpected expenses and couldn't have them come this month so I guess it does happen.
I would love to have a house cleaner. And someone to do my laundry (which includes putting it away). And when Tim's not around to cook, or is too tired to cook, I'd like to get someone else to bring me and Bobbin a proper meal. And then to clean up after it.
So I need to know from you moms out there... are you hiding something? Do you have people coming to clean your house or bring you food or cook your meals or do your grocery shopping? If not, and you could "outsource" one chore each week, what would it be?
Our house isn't completely awful. But it isn't winning any home of the month awards (actually that's not true. It has won a home of the month award. But that was shortly after we moved in when we were still squeaky clean, Bobbin was only 22 inches long and spent most of her time sleeping and could not change location of her own volition much less amass enough toys for me to be considered it messy where she was. Our house was NEVER so clean as when it was photographed for the magazine issue where it was featured as Home of the Month). I should probably rephrase that and say, Our house isn't completely awful. But Tim and I are not winning any cleanest home of the month awards. Not in this or any months.
It's so hard to keep up on everything, and once you do take care of something, there's something else that was made much worse just by the sheer fact that it took you so long to take care fo the first thing and the instigator got bored and went on to play with 10 other things that each had a lot of little pieces to pick up.
My biggest pet peeves are:
1) Dust Bunnies.
2) stuff lying all over the house where it doesn't belong
3) Dirty dishes piling up in the sink
4) Sticky spots on the floor.
5) Windows that are gathering a light layer of dust because we've washed them a total of NEVER times since we moved in. Except for the parts that Bobbin can reach with her hand and face. I try to do those once a month.
I've fantasized about winning the big lottery and getting someone to come in daily to do the icky stuff I don't like. Laundry, floor, dusting. But then I think that how will Bobbin ever establish good habits for herself as she gets older and goes off to college if she sees someone we're paying to come in and keep things clean. So there would need to be boundaries in terms of what would get done by the helper vs what would get done by us as independant adults (and budding independant preschooler) responsible for ourselves and our home and possessions. In the end I think having someone come over to vaccuum and mop the floors and clean the windows and clean the bathtub on a regular basis would be a good compromise.
Really... you can tell me. I'll keep it a secret. Do you have any regular "outside" help, keeping y'all in line in some way shape or form? Or some shortcut?
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The contents of my purse is worth a thousand words
Posted by Heather on August 1, 2008 at 11:42 AM
Cleaning out my purse this morning and I came up with
- 2 domino pieces
- 1 orange plastic cupcake
- 1 crushed green lollipop still in the wrapper
- 1 almost-empty tube of kids sunscreen
- 1 long-lost grocery list
- 3 pens that don't work
- 1 bluetooth ear bud in need of charging
- 1 wadded up daily report from Bobbin's school
- 1 slightly sticky recipe for "Monkey Bars"
- My therapist's business card
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60 Questions
Posted by Heather on August 1, 2008 at 9:32 AM
That's how many she asked this morning in the car ride to school, which lasted 12 minutes. 5 questions per minute seems to be a pretty consistent rate for Bobbin. And so, it begs some calculating.
Starting at around 7am when she wakes up until about 8pm when she goes to bed, subtract 2 hours (optimistic) for a nap, and that's 11 hours of questions at 5 questions per minute which equates to 3,300 questions per day. Since I'm not with her during school hours I don't really know if she actually sustains that rate. I suspect not given the number of other distractions and activities and the fact that there are a bunch of other kids in the class amongst whom the teacher must divide her attention. But that leaves about 4 hours per day when we're together, and that roughly comes out to about 1,200 questions that I'm answering each day.
That feels about right :-)
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So clean you can eat off them
Posted by Heather on July 31, 2008 at 8:39 PM
I spent today recovering from my 24 hours in hotel solitude bliss by washing the kitchen and dining room floors. On my hands and knees. In preparation for Sunday's preschooler extravaganza, a.k.a Bobbin's 3rd birthday party.
All told we're expecting about 8 kids including the guest of honour, and 14 or so adults. The floors - they will not be clean at the end of the party. I know this. But at least I can take comfort knowing that when the kiddos start eating the food they dropped on the floor - 'cause they do that - they're likely not going to be ingesting toxic spores from the year-old mold that's been growing on the sticky spot where Bobbin spit her oranges that day last summer, or where the cat puked up the piece of pasta that she had stolen from my plate last fall. 'Cause it'd been about that long since I last washed these floors.
All the same, if it's a nice day, I think we'll just serve the cake and ice cream outside on the deck.
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Add this one to the "Bad Mommy" short list
Posted by Heather on July 28, 2008 at 3:42 PM
At least she's too young to really know I'm not on top of things and doesn't yet have an opinion about it :-)
This weekend was jam packed with activity: birthday present shopping; cleaning house; visits from cousins Jake, Stef, and Baby K; soccer; an evening with friends; a 4-mile walk; Tim working; Miss E's birthday party. And so it isn't terribly surprising, is it, that I awoke this morning to realize that
a) Bobbin had no clean underwear (actually - she did have clean underwear; they just weren't dry yet :-))
b) We had NO breakfast food in the house whatsoever. No bread. No cereal. No waffles. No pancakes. Nada. It was a toss up between mac & cheese or Elmo Vegetable soup, neither of which really seemed appropriate (although I guess they would have been fine).
On the plus side, the house was still spotless from all of our cleaning efforts this weekend. Bobbin was a huge help with that; she loves to clean. But that was really of no consequence given that I had a super hungry preschooler who wasn't wearing any underwear under the dress that she often insists on pulling up around her waist when she's running.
So I popped a pair of her wet undies in the dryer, got her some blueberries, got dressed, and announced we'd be having breakfast at "The Apple Store" (aka PCC) this morning on the way to school. Man, was I the hero that saved the day from myself. She was so excited she only complained mildly about her undies still being slightly wet when I put them on her in the laundry room and shuttled her toward the door.
Breakfast was a hit - all organic - turkey sausage, cheesy scrambled eggs, toast with raspberry jam, and some fresh strawberries and blueberries, and some watermelon juice. I had to make the toast myself by buying a loaf of bread and some jam and toasting it in their free-for-all toaster in the hot foods area. But hey - now we have us some breakfast food in the house. Two birds; one stone (albeit an expensive stone. An all organic prepared meal does not come cheap, even when served in toddler-sized portions on a paper plate). Bobbin chowed down, although it took her close to an hour to get to the point where she was full. She left the store with one hand grasping a slice of toast with jam, and the other tightly gripping a large organic strawberry, both of which she refused to give up despite her announcement to the store that her tummy was full. She ate both in the car on the way to school. We arrived at 9:30am, an hour later than usual, and Bobbin was completely covered head to toe, literally, in jam. I had to practically sponge bathe her at the toddler sink before we went into the classroom.
And the worst part is... as I sit here and type this I realized that I went to the grocery store TWICE today and STILL forgot to buy pancakes and waffles. Ah well - we do have fresh bread and jam. She'll have toast in the morning :-)
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Ain't THAT the truth!
Posted by Heather on July 25, 2008 at 3:22 PM
In the monthly "What to expect at X months" email from babycenter.com that arrived in my inbox this morning, I read
"As the need to discipline your child increases, Mom and Dad have ever more opportunities to disagree on an appropriate response. (Sometimes couples who thought they knew one another so well are surprised by the degree to which they disagree about how to raise a child.)"
I guess there's something to be said for knowing we're not the only ones ;-)
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I'm sure they tried.
Posted by Heather on July 11, 2008 at 10:31 PM
On the way home from our usual friday night festivities, Bobbin pointed out the blinking red lights on the skyscrapers in the city as we passed by on the freeway and asked "Why those red lights are going on and off and on and off?"
I explained it was so that airplanes could see them and would know there were tall buildings so they would fly high above them.
Bobbin: Why airplanes need to fly high above the buildings?
Me: So that they don't crash into the buildings.
Bobbin: Why they don't want to crash into the buildings?
Me: Well because a lot of people would get hurt if the airplane crashed into the building.
Bobbin: Why a lot of people would get hurt?
Me: Because there are a lot of people on the airplane, and there are a lot of people in the building, so if the airplane crashed into the building, all of the people on the airplane and all of the people in the building would get very hurt very badly.
Bobbin: and then the fire trucks would come?
Me: Yes, then the fire trucks would come.
Bobbin: Why there would be a fire?
Me: Because that's what happens when airplanes crash into buildings.
Bobbin: And the fire fighters would help all the people?
Me: Well, sometimes the fire fighters and fire trucks wouldn't be able to help all the people, even though they'd try very hard to.
Bobbin: Why they cannot help all the people?
Me: Because when an airplane crashes into a building it's sometimes way high up in the building and the fire truck ladders cannot reach that high.
Bobbin: But the mommies can help the people.
Me: The Mommies?
Bobbin: The mommies on the airplane. The mommies would help and save all the people.
The last statement was uttered with such pure faith and conviction that I couldn't help but get a tear in my eye.
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Late to the game but still fired up
Posted by Heather on July 1, 2008 at 9:10 PM
Janel sent the Friday Gang a book review for a book by LInda R. Hirshman entitled "Get to Work: And Get a Life, Before It's Too Late"
The review was by Sandra Tsing Loh and I'm not entirely sure what her opinion was of the book or author; She came across to me as a bit annoying at the beginning but when I actually took the (long long long) time to read through to the end of her review I think I liked her wit and sarcasm. Whether or not I read the book that she is apparently publishing and releasing shortly is undecided But I do know that the review made me decide unequivocally that the book she was reviewing was not a book that I was interested in actually reading, and the opinion I was left with was that Linda R. Hirshman's view of the world was more likely to just piss me off than entertain me.
And apparently I'm not alone; I guess I've been living under the proverbial rock when the book came out and sparked apparently much debate and critique in the internet blogosphere. Ah well... yet one more thing I missed while I had my head buried in my ever-growing pile of self-doubt, working-mom guilt, and stinky laundry.
It's clear from the review I read as well as the publisher's remarks that Hirshman thinks very little of women who have chosen to stay home after having a child, vs continuing their careers.
The quote that really annoyed me: "Although child rearing, unlike housework, is important and can be difficult, it does not take well-developed political skills to rule over creatures smaller than you are, weaker than you are, and completely dependent upon you for survival or thriving. Certainly, it's not using your reason to do repetitive, physical tasks, whether it's cleaning or driving the car pool. My correspondent's life does have a certain Tom Sawyerish quality to it, but she has no power in the world. Why would the congressmen she writes to listen to someone whose life so resembles that of a toddler's, Harvard degree or no?"
Power in the world. In my book raising and teaching another human being the qualities that allow them to be kind, caring, empathetic, responsible, giving, independent, confident, questioning, challenging, contributing beings in life is wielding a fair amount of power. As for who the congress men (and women) do and do not listen to and why - our politics is flawed on so many levels at this point that it's meangingless to try and argue that a stay-at-home mother is going to have any less influence than I would as a working mom. I don't have any influence either. Neither do the majority of the "regular people" working or not in this country.
As for the level of skill it takes to "rule over creatures smaller than you are, weaker than you are, and completely dependant upon you for survival or thriving" I think that is a very myopic view of what it takes to raise a child in the world today. It's true that it is not rocket science. And it's true that the problems that are being solved at home are different than the ones that are being solved at work. But it is inappropriate to try and draw conclusions or comparisons about the skill involved in doing one vs the other.
I recently learned through an old friend that a high school classmate of ours has a child that was born with Cerebral Palsy. There was a spot on a local news show about their family that I watched on the internet. The skills that it must take him and his wife on a daily basis, to care for their daughter, to care for the rest of their family, to move themselves and their family forward and give them hope and opportunity and strength and unconditional love and encouragement and support is a skill I will never ever ever claim to exercise in the work that I do in my 45+ hour week high tech management job that provides me with full benefits, a pretty wide scope of responsibility, and a competitive salary. How can you compare the two? Our lives are completely different, filled with different requirements, different skills, different circumstances and in many cases those circumstances aren't choices that a person gets to make for him or herself.
Anyway... I think my friend Debra (who really does need to get a blog at this point; C'mon Debra; I set my sister up. I can set you up too. You know you want it ;-)) summed it up best with her response to the review which was "if the kids aren't raised well, we ALL pay the price" and "Irregardless of whether we are at home or at work, if we are all cranky or sucking the life out of the system or thrashing on others, we are not at our full potential. Tell me how that contributes to having 'a life'?".
I have such smart friends :-)
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No More Crayons
Posted by Heather on June 8, 2008 at 8:43 PM
A couple of weeks ago I stopped at the bookstore and picked up a couple of new picture books for Bobbin. "The Bunnies are Not in their Beds" by Marisabina Russo, and "A Day with No Crayons" by Elizabeth Rusch. Both were instant hits but the favourite by far is the Crayon book. And it seemed I was quite timely in my selection of this book. It came in handy today.
The book is about a little girl named Liza who loves to colour. But when she runs out of paper and gets caught in the act of colouring on her bedroom wall, her mother promptly confiscates the tools of her crime and Liza must get through an ENTIRE DAY without any crayons. She manages to find ways to entertain herself and make and discover art in other creative ways and in the end she finds she didn't miss them so much after all.
Bobbin loves to make art. She absolutely adores painting. And so when I bought her some Crayola Paint Brush Pens for her to be able to keep in her room and use anytime without asking (I'm in charge of the regular paints; they're not readily accessible at her whim) she was really ecstatic.
Usually she sits at the table or her desk to draw and paint but today she decided to arrange herself and her paper and pens on our floor. The solid brazilian cherry floor that just last weekend I had spent hours on my hands and knees cleaning so I could get at every nook and cranny myself. After about 10 months of buildup I started getting annoyed and just generally disgusted whenever my socks, or worse my bare feet, would stick to the floor as I walked through the house. But I digress.
And so I said "Ok, but we have two rules. Can you guess what they are?"
" Y' know?" she replied, which is her usual response to these questions.
"Rule 1: NO colouring on the floor. Colour on the paper only. Not the floor. Got it?" She nodded her head emphatically. "Rule 2: When you are finished your painting, you put the caps on and put your pens away. Ok?" which solicited another somber nod. I asked her to repeat the rules back to me, which she did, and then I asked her what would happen if she didnt' follow the rules. "Mommy take my paintbrushes away and I cannot use them again". We seemed good.
It wasn't 10 minutes later that I then found her laying on the floor on her stomach, colouring book well out of reach, non-chalantly brushing her marker back and forth over the same spot over and over. Purple. On purpose. Clearly intentional. I asked her what she was doing and she looked up and stated the obvious. I picked up the rest of her pens and then spent the next 5 minutes quietly demanding that she turn over the purple one still in her hand. She started out defiant in her "No!" answer, but when she saw I wasn't letting up they turned to pleads, and then she started negotiating and promising "I will not paint on the floor again, I will not Mommy, please, I will not and I will clean it up". She finally turned over the last pen when I showed her the deep purple stain on the hardwood floor. The big, deep purple stain. The stain from the "washable" paint brush pens that refused to be wiped away with soap and water, and that only faded slightly when I applied something a little more harsh. She knew she was done.
I deposited the pens in what I mockingly refer to as the "Cubby of Confiscation" when I use it, or as Bobbin mispronounces it, the "Cubby of Constipation". It's a small wicker basket I keep on top of the china cabinet for just such purposes. Confiscation purposes, not constipation purposes. And then while she was sobbing uncontrollably I took her on my lap and reminded her about her picture book, and we talked about what Liza had done, and what her Mommy had done, and how this was just like what Liza had done and I took her pens away from her for the same reason Liza's Mommy took Liza's crayons away from Liza. In the end she acquiesced. It seemed fair. Liza's Mommy had done the same thing. It happened in a picture book; it must not be so bad.
I managed to get her out of her blues and back to her jovial self by enticing her outside to blow bubbles on the deck after putting the cubby back on the top of the china cabinet. The pens were not forgotten completely however, and she would refer to them repeatedly throughout the day. "Mommy, 'member when I was colouring with my pens and I coloured on the floor and that was not ok and so you took my pens and I cannot have them now until tomorrow, just like Liza". I reminded her repeatedly that Liza managed to have fun despite having no crayons for the day. We went to the park and fed the ducks and geese, and played at the playground, and rode her tricycle all up and down the bike path, and generally had a great afternoon but every so often she'd bring up the pen incident as a reminder. "Member, Mommy, when I did that?"
I had intended to give them back tomorrow but later this afternoon she willingly volunteered to help me clean the house. I gave her our little Dirt Devil portable broom vacuum thingie, and she went to town from one end of the house to the other while I used the "real" vacuum to do the carpets. When we had finished and put the vacuums away, I thanked her and praised her for being such a great helper and gave her a big hug and kiss. And that's when she looked up at me and said "Mommy, maybe I can have my pens back now please?"
This time, I put a mat underneath her paper and pens.
Not even three yet. Man are we in trouble.
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Someone... somewhere... must appreciate the crap that I am doing for them.
Posted by Heather on June 3, 2008 at 9:10 PM
Yes, with this post I am indulging myself in a nice, warm, comforting bubble bath of self pity. If you don't like it, go find another blog to read.
I work hard. Hard hard hard. I try hard. Hard hard hard. I work and try hard to be a great mom. I try hard to be a great wife. I work and try hard to be a great manager. I work hard to be a great employee, I try hard to be a great human being. I try to be a good sister and daughter. I have 30+ years experience at the latter two and so these ones I feel I'm actually doing ok at and not as worried about as the rest. My sister, I'm sure, will let me know if I'm offbase here ;-). The rest though... don't have that 30+ years of experience to help me feel confident that I know what I'm doing and am doing it ok. Even the wife part, despite Tim's constant reassurances and sweet support when I get into these funks. Because if I was a good wife I wouldn't make him have to reassure me so much and prop up my confidence. Therefore I must suck.
I know don't work hard to be a great cousin/neice/aunt/daughter-in-law and I feel bad about that. I love my extended family members dearly but man, it is hard. I also admit I don't work as hard to be a great friend as I used to. I don't keep in touch with people outside family really well; I am not as approachable as I used to be; I tend not to have much time to spend with friends outside of work and family.
But all that work and trying that I am doing is making me tired and really really really cranky.
Because it seems that no matter where I turn or who I am working "for" at that moment in time or how much time I am devoting to them, someone is always wanting something more than what I am giving.
More time.
More help.
More sympathy.
More empathy.
More devoted attention.
More 1:1 time.
More listening.
More problem solving.
More road unblocking.
More moral support.
More representation.
More opportunity.
More visibility.
More work group health.
More productivity.
More money.
More advice.
It's all about what more I can do for them. It's never about what I have done or are already doing for them.
And so, I sit, unable to tell people to back off; to tell them to go find someone else to care; to go do something about their own problems; to go get a better job/manager/career/mentor/representative/friend (note: mother and wife are NOT substitutable) because I aim to please. That's me. And it sucks.
I have 24 hours in a day. During the week, this is how I get to spend it on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays:
7am - 8:10am: Bobbin time. Get Bobbin out of bed. Get Bobbin dressed. Get Bobbin breakfast. Help Bobbin brush teeth, go potty, pack her napsack. Spend a bit of time cuddling with Bobbin and getting some quality 1:1 time in with her. Check email briefly and respond to urgent stuff and verify my schedule for the morning. Then put Bobbin in the car and head off to daycare.
8:10am - 8:30am: Drive to daycare. Take advantage of the time by singing with Bobbin, talking with Bobbin, answering questions, and having fun before having to part ways for the bulk of the day.
8:30am - 8:40am: Get Bobbin settled into school - knapsack and coat put away, yogurt snack ready, Goodbye hug and kiss.
8:40am - 9:00am. Stop at starbucks and get my hot chocolate and bagel. Revel in the momentary silence and then instantly feel a pang of guilt because I really do want to spend every waking moment with my daughter but at the same time need to have a little bit of me time and that's not selfish is it? Arrive at work at 9am.
9:00am - 9:30am. *IF* I am lucky, I get 30 minutes to get settled in, catch up on email, and respond to priority emails before having to spend the bulk of the day in various meetings. I manage a team of 30 people at this point in time. Of those 30 people, 7 of them report directly to me. 1 of my direct reports is on parental leave until mid-summer which means I also am having to allocate some portion of my time to helping to manage his 5 direct reports. Of my 7 direct reports, 1 of them works out of Europe, the other out of Asia. The other 5 are US based. the rest of my 30 employees are distributed across the US and Europe. IIn addition to having a team of 30 people to manage located in multiple regions, all of the projects that my team owns require heavy cross-group and cross-team collaboration and so we have a pretty complicated dependancy and relationship matrix that also must get managed. And of course, I myself have a manager who expects me to be able to deal with all of this stuff pretty autonomously because he himself has 3 other teams reporting to him and mine is one of the smallest of the four total that he is responsible for.
9:30am - 12pm. Meetings. Which are usually anything ranging from 1:1s with my direct reports, to impromptu meetings with non-direct reports within my team, to recurring meetings with other teams and/or managers that cover any range of topics from particular project reviews to business reviews, to quality of service reviews, to external partner meetings, to business deal reviews, etc.
12pm - 1pm. I try and reserve this for lunch and am pretty successful, but it is important to note that lunch consists of me running across the parking lot to the cafeteria, grabbing whatever is ready-to-eat, and coming back to my office to eat it and catch up on email at the same time.
1pm - 5pm. Meetings. More of the same.
5pm. Leave work to pick up Bobbin. Non-negotiable. I have a hard stop at this time. For the most part this works and I no longer feel bad about declining meetings that people schedule for me after 5pm, or up and leaving a meeting at 5pm that is running late. Regardless of who is in the room, including VPs. And for the most part this is respected.
5pm - 5:30pm. Drive to daycare. Traffic sucks so it takes longer to get there than it does to go from daycare to work in the morning. Leaving a bit later makes this worse. I tried it to see if I could sneak in an extra 10 minutes at work. I ended up picking up Bobbin at 5:45. My hardcore rule is that Bobbin gets picked up no later than 5:30pm period.
5:30 - 5:45pm. Round Bobbin up at daycare, have her say her goodbyes, collect her blanket, daily report, and any artwork she created, and get her into the car.
5:45pm - 6:10pm. Drive home. Take advantage of the time by asking about her day, singing songs, making up silly rhymes, and listening to her chat about who had potty accidents, who got in trouble for throwing rocks, who she played with, etc. I love this time of day.
6:10pm - 6:30pm. Get home, get her unloaded, get her settled with a snack. If Tim's home he's started dinner. Sometimes I'm a bit later because we stop at the store to pick up something for him to cook. Set the table, unload the dishwasher, chat with Bobbin and Tim about their days.
6:30pm - 6:45pm. Eat dinner with Tim and Bobbin.
6:45pm - 7pm. Clean up from dinner - wipe table, counters, load and start dishwasher. Bobbin usually likes to help here, which is sweet but also tends to require a little extra cleanup afterwards. But I encourage her to help - maybe it'll stick :-)
7pm - 7:30pm. Quality time with Bobbin and Tim. Reading, singing, playing, etc. If it's a bath night, I'll start the bath running, get towels etc, ready and pop her in the tub by 7:15.
7:30pm - 7:45pm. Start the bedtime routine: Have bobbin go potty, help her brush teeth, get her room ready (pull shades; start music, straighten bed); get her changed into her jammies.
7:45pm - 8pm. Night time bottle in the big chair with Bobbin, watching the Shushy-byes and then Harry Bunny sing Twinkle Twinkle. I have to tell you I am actually NOT looking forward to Bobbin no longer having a bedtime bottle. It's our cuddle time. I love it.
8pm - 8:30pm. Mommy time. Sometimes I work out. Sometimes I lie on the bed with my eyes closed and listen to music. Sometimes I take a hot bath. Sometimes I indulge in some tv in the bedroom. Sometimes I spend this 30 minutes going into Bobbin's room every 10 minutes while she complains of some sort of owie or other, or insists on trying to go potty again, or reassuring her that the sound that she heard was just me or Tim or Tommy and not a monster coming to get her. When this happens, it is not Mommy time anymore.
8:30pm - 10pm. Tim time. We watch TV, we talk, we relive some of the wackier phrases or antics of our sweet little daughter. We surf the internet, show each other pictures or videos we've taken, etc.
10pm. Tim usually heads to bed to watch the news. I will sometimes stay up to watch TV or download photos from my camera, or update my blog. I also usually check my work email for 30 minutes - 1 hour between 8:30 and 11pm to catch up on stuff that's happened since I left at 5pm. Because a lot of stuff does actually happen after 5pm. Moreso than I'd like to, but part of that is the geographic diversity. On rare occasions I too will head to bed at 10pm.
11pm. Lights out.
7am. start again.
Wednesdays are special days. I mentioned previously that I have employees in Europe and in Asia. I also have other groups I interact with in both regions as well. So Wednesdays are my "extended work days". I work from 7 or 8am (depending on whether or not I have a 7am meeting scheduled) so I can catch the Europe crowd before their day ends; and I work until 7pm so I can catch the Asia crowd when their day begins. These people usually have to sacrifice THEIR own personal time schedules in order to interact with folks in the US and so I figure this is my way of trying to at least acknowledge that and make it a little easier for them to catch me. some of the 8am and 6pm meetings are ones that I have scheduled - 1:1s or team meetings to try and get most of my team together. I will admit that the morning ones are the hardest ones to maintain on a recurring basis especially if I've had a rough night of it with Bobbin the evening before. And so one of the complaints that the folks at work have is that these meetings are not consistent enough. Fair complaint. I just don't know that I'll really be able to get much better at it.
Wednesdays as a result are also my highest stress, lowest tolerance, and highest mommy-guilt days. I don't drop off or pick up Bobbin on Wednesdays. Two parts of my daily routine that I do really enjoy. I spend less time with Bobbin on Wednesdays than on any other days and I already feel that Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays I'm not spending as much time with her as I should or want to, and I only put in 8 hours a day on those days at the office itself plus 30 minutes - 1 hour on work email total from home at either end of that when Bobbin is either sleeping or occupying herself of her own volition. I rarely will actually work out on Wednesdays (although to be honest, for the last month I've rarely worked out on any other day as well) because of the extended schedule, and given that it is my highest stress day it is the day I most need to work out for pure health and sanity reasons. So the fact that I don't usually means that stress is accumulating and spilling over into Thursdays.
Saturdays and Sundays is quality family time. Bobbin and I go to L'il Kicker's soccer and have a blast; then mcdonald's for lunch, then home for quiet time. During quiet time I'll either take a nap myself if it's been a rough week and I need to catch up on sleep, or I'll do some housecleaning and chores. Afternoon we'll usually head out to a nearby park or playground, or we'll stay home and play games and colour and read and play in our back yard, or have friends over for a play date, or do errand outings to get groceries, etc. Sunday mornings are free-time; we do what we want when we want to. usually go ride Bobbin's trike at the playground and feed the ducks and then home for lunch and quiet time and afternoon if it's night we'll spend it playing on the deck or out on the climber and I might get some weeding or flower watering or planting done while Tim mows the grass (if he's not working the weekend).
And then it's back to the grind.
Family is important to me. The fact that I spend so little time with them compared to the time I spend at work is a constant source of angst, guilt, and pain. Despite the fact that I actually have a pretty good balance of work & family life. I typically work 45 hour work weeks. Most people would think that is awesome. Most would be surprised that my career is progressing as much as it is given that I am not putting in 60-80 hour work weeks. I do worry that I am close to stalling that progression; at some point 45 hours will NOT be enough, regardless of how hard our HR and diversity groups work to convince managers and employees alike that it should be and that balance is important regardless of your level. At any rate, family is important. It is in fact #1. When I'm not working I'm home with Bobbin and Tim. I usually can work in a little me time to exercise or veg or read or bathe. I can't do all of those me-things though. I have to choose each day which I will actually do. That's been the difference pre-Bobbin and post-Bobbin. I feel guilty even acknowledging that there is a difference, because acknowledging it somehow implies that I am dissatisfied with the current situation or somehow missing or longing for the former. Which is not true; I would not turn back the clock. But it is different and that requires adjustment and in almost 3 years I still have not quite found that right balance of me-only time. And every once in a while if I've been out of balance with my me-only time for a while, I get weird and cranky and unpredictable, and on occasion will even have to end up taking a vacation day from work just to recoup and get back on balance. And then I feel guilty that I'm taking time off work even though it is TIME THEY ARE GIVING ME - a bonafide vacation day that I have the right to take when I want to, yet I somehow feel that by doing so, I am skimping on my work responsibilities.
The kicker today was sitting at work reviewing feedback I recently received, and while I was reviewing it and trying to be as empathetic and objective as I could, and trying to look at it as constructive and informative for me as a professional, all I could actually think was damn, I guess I just totally SUCK as a manager, how am I even still employed and responsible for this stuff if I'm falling short in all of these areas, and at the same time I'm also thinking damn, what the hell do you people WANT from me, don't you see what I AM doing for you and don't you appreciate it and don't you know you actually have a pretty darn good deal here? Can't you just be happy?
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The toilet ring of potty training
Posted by Heather on June 2, 2008 at 10:31 PM
If a "silver lining" is the metaphor for an unexpected glimmer of hope from a seemingly otherwise gloomy situation, then the ugly grey ring around a toilet bowl that has seen more than its fair share of use between cleanings is the metaphorical equivalent of an unexpected negative from the otherwise positive benefits of a potty trained preschooler.
A lot of current parent literature tells us that using the phrase potty "training" is no longer socially acceptable because it invokes some sort of negative imagery of toddlers as lower life forms being conditioned into using a potty in the same way lab rats can be trained to push a lever to get a treat. It says instead that we should use the phrase potty "learning". It's somehow more accurate and less demeaning. Whatever. Saying "Bobbin is potty learned" sounds a bit weird. And I wouldn't know whether I should actually pronounce learned in this context as "learn-ed". Which just makes me giggle. So instead I'll say that Bobbin has learned ('learnD') to use the potty every time she needs to go. No more diapers except at night time and even that is "just in case" these days as she almost always wakes up dry.
This is a good thing, right?
Yes, it is. No argument from me here. No more diaper pails. No more diapers. No more space consumed by changing tables, changing pads, diapering accessories and supplies. No more accidents to mop up. No more soiled underpants coming home from daycare in plastic bags with the "evidence" still attached to them. Which brings up another question: Why do they send the poop home with the kid? Do they think we parents won't believe them if they simply write a note that says "Bobbin had a #2 accident today in the playground"? It's not like the poop is the diarrahea variety. It's solid chunks. Shake the pants over the toilet before popping them in the baggy and voila - poop fragments all gone. I promise I'll believe it happened if you tell me it did. But I digress.
Yes, the fact that Bobbin now puts all her #1 and #2 in the potty all the time is a very very good thing. She is proud. We are proud. Life is easier. Life is cheaper. Life is good.
But there is a grey toilet ring around all this goodness. It's not dark grey. Just a mild discoloration. And it is the fact that as a result of her mind being so attuned to her bodily functions, she is waking up at 2am and 5am, like clockwork, every night, because she has to pee. Despite the fact that she still wears the nighttime pullups "just in case", her body has gotten to the point where it recognizes the signs and wakes her up before it happens and she must use the toilet. And after her body wakes her up, she wakes me up.
"Mommmmmyyyyyyyy.... I have to pee mommmyyyyyyyy I feel my pee pee coming MOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYY! I have to pee mommyyyyy I have to pee my pee pee is COMING"
And so I get up and stagger into her bedroom and mumble praises that she woke up in time to use the potty and ddn't have an accident and how proud I am of her. I think I mumble these praises out loud. I hear them in my head. And I hold her hand and blearily escort her to the bathroom and help her onto the potty and sit on the floor in front of her and wait for her to finish.
I have to remain semi-conscious during and after her pee in order to be able to help her back to her bed and tuck her in. She on the other hand confidently collapses into my arms in a sound slumber immediately after she has completed her business. There she will be, slumped forward into my arms, eyes closed, mouth open, snoring, still sitting on her potty with her pullups around her ankles. I have to get her all put back together and tucked back into her bed and empty the potty in the toilet and wash my hands before I can go back to my bed. And invariably, as I said, within 3 hours I'm doing it all over again.
Yes - using the potty is a good good thing. Pleased as punch we've arrived at this stage of life! But I'll be even happier when her bladder is large enough that she can make it til morning without having to pee, OR she starts getting out of bed and going on her own without waking me up :-)
Yes, I want my cake and I want to eat it too. But not at 2am. Or 5. At the more civilized hour of 7, if possible. But I'll take 6:30 if I have to.
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I need a raise
Posted by Heather on May 21, 2008 at 8:28 PM
I came across this little gem today:
Mom's Salary Wizard
According to this, as a Working Mom in the Pacific Northwest someone oughtta be paying me about $40K for my mom duties - this is above and beyond the salary my actual employer pays me for the 50 hrs a week I spend at my "day-job".
I have the invoice. Just need to know where to send it to claim what's mine - about $100K plus change at this point. Hello? Anyone out there writing checks for mom duty?
I know, I know... the joy of raising a child are reward enough. And really, who can put a price tag on what my role as mommy is really worth?
18 years of books, toys, clothing, food, transportation, shelter, education/childcare: $425K. (Don't take my word for it - there's a calculator for that too).
Raising a healthy, confident, independent, morally, fiscally, and socially responsible child: Priceless.
Of course, someone forgot to tell Bobbin that "she is reward enough" when she had a massive screaming temper tantrum over her "nite-nite" music at bedtime this evening (and then an even more massive one when we turned the nite-nite music off).
Joy.
Happy. Happy.
Joy. joy.
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My Perfect Mother's Day!
Posted by Heather on May 11, 2008 at 8:17 PM
My dream mother's day has me being able to sleep until at least 8am. And today, that was me - sleeping soundly in my kingsize bed to the sounds of silence until a bit past 8. Bonus: At 2:00am when she woke up needing to go potty, she called out for "Daddy" instead of "Mommy". The week of conditioning had worked :-) I have vague memories of Tim waking up, and no screaming ensuing so I assume the potty trip was successful. I was only slightly concious at 6:45am when the calls of "Good Morning!" rang through the baby monitor. I quickly resumed my slumber after Tim woke up, turned off the monitor, and went in to great the day with our little bright eyed bushy tailed munchkin. I slept blissfully until just after 8 when I was awakened by the sounds of someone desperately, but quietly, trying to open the door by herself. I remember her calling for help and then the next thing I knew, I was being gently (really!) awakened by my sweet little angel, smile on her face and two envelopes and a picture in her hand. A beautiful picture she had coloured herself, and two cards that she had helped decorate. (One had wax paper cleverly inserted inside to allow for the glitter glue to dry without sticking the pages together. Score a major arts and crafts point for Dad on that one!).
My perfect mother's day involves waking to aromas and sounds of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove. And that's just what happened this morning. Bonus: Pancakes and warm maple syrup in addition to "spangled" (Bobbin's word for Scrambled) eggs and bacon. There was even cold orange juice to accompany the feast. AND... no dishes for me to clean up :-)
My perfect mother's day includes a nap at some point and I ended getting a nap shortly after breakfast when Bobbin decided to play "quiet time". See previous blog post. How cool is that?! I was thrilled :-)
My perfect mother's day has everyone using their polite voices and not having to remind about manners or admonish for tone of voice. And my mother's day was just that. Even while we were deep into glitter glue, scissors, scrap paper, and crayons during our rainy-day morning arts-and-crafts. It was absolutely amazing. And relaxing. And sooooo enjoyable. Thank you :-) Bonus: Bobbin even offered on her own to help clean up after we had finished our projects. Got out her little broom and everything. I went crazy and vacuumed, despite Tim's admonishment with questions of "What are you doing? Hello?" as he attempted to stare me down over the patch of carpet he was standing on that I desperately wanted to clean. It was totally sweet :-)
I was so rested from my playtime nap that when she went down for her real "quiet time" I found myself having ample energy and time to surf the internet, organize and upload photos, and just do stuff I generally don't have time for.
My perfect mother's day includes my favourite food for dinner. Tonight it was lasagna - my all time favourite. I actually felt so relaxed and full of time that I felt like cooking it myself! Bobbin and Tim helped - Bobbin was in charge of the ricotta and mozzerella. Tim got it all on video so expect some uploads soon. It was fabulous. I had two pieces and ate the mozzerella coated top off of a 3rd. Hey... it's Mother's day.
My perfect mother's day ends with me working out on my elliptical, burning 1000 calories. I'm way too lit from the 3 glasses of the fabulous red wine that we had with dinner to work out. It could be hazardous. Of course, I still sit here typing. Also potentially hazardous. However it is the lesser of the two evils. And as I said before, Hey... it's Mother's day.
Thank you Tim and Bobbin for the Mother's Day of my dreams. I love you both with all my heart :-)
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Best. Game. EVER!
Posted by Heather on May 11, 2008 at 12:44 PM
I just spent the last hour playing "quiet time" with Bobbin. This was entirely her doing. She decided she wanted to turn the living room into a preschool, and got out floppy bunny, and peter rabbit, and giraffe, and laid them all down for quiet time. They each had a blanket, which was actually a cloth napkin from my linen drawer (Bobbin has decided my linen drawer full of napkins is actually the classroom's "extra blanket" cubby. All of my linen napkins are now strewn about the house, covering some stuffed animal or another. Floor, tables, chairs, sofas, etc. It looks a bit like a morgue for really tiny people around here).
Once she had tucked in all her toys, she spread a blanket out for me (a human-child sized one) and told me that I needed to have quiet time too. I laid down on the blanket on the sofa and she told me to close my eyes, and she proceeded to tuck me in. If I opened my eyes, she'd stroke my forehead and whisper "Shhhhh... mommy... it's quiet time. Close your eyes ok? I'll read you a book after quiet time but not if you don't go to sleep, ok?" As I laid there with my eyes closed, I could hear her moving around the room checking and retucking-in each of her other "kids", and saying in hushed tones "ok now, go to sleep, ok? It's quiet time now". Then she proceeded to pile a bunch of extra stuffed animals in around my legs and head and elbows for me to cuddle with while I lay there.
At one point she disappeared and was gone so long i was starting to wonder what she had gotten into. I got up and tiptoed down the hall to her room and peeked in. She was quietly playing with her toys on her bedroom floor, but she glanced up and saw me and quietly ordered me back to bed. I complied.
And so, that is how I got almost an entire hour nap this morning, after being allowed to sleep in until 8am to begin with. And now Bobbin herself is having a real quiet time so here I sit, wondering what to do with myself, being all rested and everything.
"Quiet Time". Best game ever.
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Differences
Posted by Heather on May 8, 2008 at 8:24 PM
I have been contemplating the impact that the difference in technology and information access in 1973 when I was two, and today when Bobbin is 2, has had on Bobbin's view of the world. Just little things, mind you - not deep philosophical pondering. But it's the little things that are interesting to think about. Like...
Bobbin is convinced that all content that she views on the television is on-demand and completely controllable by a wireless remote control. she cannot grasp the concept that some of the shows she's watching real-time on the actual TV channel, are one-time events that are viewable only at that point in time, only in the order presented and are not repeatable, fast-forwardable, re-windable, or chapter-selectable. One of her favourite TV shows in the morning while we're getting ready for school is "Curious George". We do not have any "Curious George" shows on DVD or recorded to hard disk so her only option for watching it is to tune in at the right time on the right channel. And sometimes she doesn't, and gets disappointed. And it's near impossible to explain to a two-year-old why some stuff on the TV can be seen anytime and other stuff can only be seen at certain times. We've also stopped allowing her to choose the scene she wants to watch in movies - we've instituted the "beginning to end" rule for all recorded or DVD media. If she stops watching before the end, then when she comes back to it we do let her decide whether she wants to watch from the beginning or pick up where she left off. But no more chapter-choosing at whim. It was just getting too out of hand and I wondered about what sorts of neuron connections, associations, and assumptions, were forming in her brain with this ability to seemingly be able to "cut to the chase" or at least the content of interest with everything. I didn't want it to start translating into other aspects of life :-)
By contrast, of course, at the same age Bobbin is now, I was watching a black-and-white television that required you to get up and turn the dials, and the concept of a VCR let alone a DVD player or "TiVo" was still science fiction for most. And we got, maybe, a handful of channels. I didn't know and didn't care, as long as I could watch Polka Dot Door, and the Friendly Giant. And if I didn't happen to tune in, I couldn't ask my parents to call it up from the hard disk to watch it on demand. I had to wait until the next day and even then, it'd be a different episode. I had "missed out". Nor could I skip to my favourite parts (I hated Marigold, and loved Polkaroo. What a difference that functionality would have made. Not ;-)
Side note: Yeah, they had colour TVs back then, but we didn't actually own one until we moved back from Germany in 1979, and at that point I had already spent 3 whole consecutive formative years tv-less - and phone-less, I might add - in a foreign country.
Bobbin has a CD player in her room, and collection of music CDs that she loves to listen to - everything from Sound of Music to Sesame Street Sing-a-longs to Sharon, Lois and Bram, to the lullaby versions of Led Zepplin and Johnny Cash. She knows how to take out and put in the CDs by herself, knows how to start and stop them, and how to adjust the volume. And she does this on a regular basis, choosing the music that suits her mood.
At her age, I was listening to vinyl records, on my parent's record player in our living room at the farm. Sesame Street, Bambi, and countless Christmas Carol records. And of course, my parents' Neil Diamond and Nana Miskouri. Mom and Dad had to put them on because the record player was out of my reach - for good reason. Doesn't take much to damage that little arm or the needle inside it, not to mention the records themselves. Eventually, at the ripe old age of 4, I graduated to having my very own cassette tape player that I could use all by myself, and which I did use to listen to all my stories on tape. It was black and had a big silver switch that you pushed forward to play, and backwards to rewind. It looked like a little mini gear shift. I was always envious of the kids that I knew that had the cassette tape players with the big bulky buttons though because I preferred pushing buttons to moving the switch. I liked the big clicky sound the buttons made.
CDs and DVDs present an interesting challenge in and of themselves. There are some little silver discs that are usable only on the computer. Computer games like her favourite Sesame Street game. There are identical looking little silver discs that contain only audio content and no visual content. You can use them on the computer, or in the DVD player, or the CD player but you only ever hear stuff. You can't see stuff. Then there are the little silver discs that lets you see stuff and hear stuff. But they only work on the Computer or in the DVD player. If you put them into the CD player nothing happens. But damn if you can tell the difference between the three when you're only 2 and haven't learned how to read yet. And it gets downright nutty trying to explain it so she understands. I think she grasps the concept now - they all look the same, but do different things and don't all work in the same machines, and when she has additional context (like if they are in their case and/or are sitting near a particular type of "player") she can figure it out mostly. DVDs mostly come in rectangle cases and we keep them near the TV. Music CDs mostly come in square cases and they hang out near her CD player but also near the computer. Computer games come in both types of cases but you usually only find them on the shelf above our computer.
The computer is something she totally takes for granted at this point. It's just another part of her world - she doesn't give it any thought. It's like the fridge, stove, washer, dryer. You have one, and you play games or look at pictures or watch movies or listen to music, or type stuff and that's just what you do. She knows what we use it for; she asks to play games, look at pictures and movies of herself and Tim and I. She even recently dictated a letter to Aunt Sarah :-) The games are vivid, exciting (note, we're talking pre-schooler exciting. Big Bird, Elmo, and a bit of the Cat in the Hat thrown in for good measure), with full surround sound. My first computer was a commodore Vic 20. I copied lines of code from the manual into my TV screen via the huge klunky keyboard that also housed the actual "computer" to make it turn colours, and thought that was way exciting. The sounds that were emitted from the TV speakers sounded like SOS signals.
If Bobbin wants to see a picture or video of something... anything... from astronauts gliding through space, to the ancient pyramids of Egypt, to a live stream of newly born panda bears frolicking in the zoo to a volcano erupting in a cloud of black ash and rock (we'll stick with educational stuff, thank you) I just pull up my browser and away we go. She thinks it's fabulous. I'll ask her what she wants to see, she'll tell me "Giraffes" and voila - we're at the Woodland Park Zoo web site, or National Geographic, or any other number of places scrolling through countless pictures and videos of Giraffes. On demand. Instant knowledge. Instant gratification. You just gotta have your search safety settings on "high", avoid using image search, and weed out the crap. That's what Mommies are for. Later, Parental Controls will start getting involved as well. And the computer will be staying in the kitchen :-)
The telephone is another interesting piece of technology that has evolved over the years. When I wanted to pretend I was talking on a phone with just my hand as the prop, I would hold out my thumb and pinky finger... cause the receivers were those big bulky ones that curved slightly so your mouth was actually near the mouthpiece. Bobbin pretends she's talking on the phone by holding her hand up to her ear. Like you see people who are talking on cell phones doing. She pretends that the digital timer is a phone because it is the same compact size and has a digital readout and little buttons. She also doesn't think the fact that I take and view pictures on the same apparatus that I use to make phone calls is anything to write home about. It's a phone. It's a camera. It's a photo album. It's the thing mommy uses to read her the email that Aunt Sarah sent her. It's the thing mommy always has in her pocket :-)
The iPhone, which is the kind of phone I have, is likewise seeming to have its own impact on Bobbin's view of the world. She thinks nothing of the fact that when she gently traces her finger over the picture it scrolls to the next picture. Or that she can enlarge and shrink with a pinch of the fingers. It just makes sense to her. Everything should work that way in her view. Everything that looks like that, and can do those things. It's fascinating to watch her interact with it.
All the lights in our house are on dimmer switches, and I've noticed a tendency for Bobbin to use the same phrases as she does with volume to express how bright or dark she would like the room to be. "Turn the light louder, mommy". She likes her lights loud, especially in the bathroom.
Instead of your traditional photo albums, we have printed picture books of Bobbin - the kind you format online with digital photos you upload, and then order in hardbound printed format. The pictures have captions, and are sized and formatted in various ways, and she loves "reading" through these with me. Tim gave me a digital photo frame at Christmas and I loaded it up with pictures of us - the two of us, and then the three of us. Bobbin was mesmerized by it. we have your traditionally framed photos of Bobbin too, but even those were taken by digital cameras (her Santa picture was printed out on the spot and even came with a CD). I remember my first camera. It had a flash cube that turned automatically, and a film cartridge that you popped into the back. I remember taking the film to the drug store to get developed, and getting the pictures back a week later. No instant gratification there. In fact, I still have little tubes of film in various drawers around the house that have to be at least 8 years old, because I started using a digital camera exclusively around then.
Bobbin knows how to unlock and lock my car with a press of a button on my key fob remote. It makes the headlights blink too, and a cool little beep. She likes to do it while standing in the kitchen in front of the french door. She'll hold out her hand, aiming through the glass at the car, and press the button and giggle. She likes to make the car "wink" at her :-)
Banking and money-handling is another aspect of life that has fundamentally changed. Bobbin does have a bank account and we'll make rare visits to the local branch to dump the contents of her piggy bank into the coin sorter, and make a deposit. But even on those visits, we don't interact with the teller in person. I have eto walk up to the video teller, pick up the phone, and talk to someone on a television screen. When we need to exchange actual stuff like deposit slips and cash, I put it into a clear plastic tube, press a button that causes it to get sucked up a pipe into nowhere, and then a few minutes later it comes back down with different stuff in it. Way way different than the visits to the bank that I recall when I was a kid.
Most of our banking, however, is done online so we don't do a lot of actual branch visits. Our bill payments are done online, so rarely will Bobbin ever see us writing a check for something. And our purchases are all done with our debit card so cash rarely changes hands. I remember when ATMs started to make their first appearance, and thought it was cool that you could walk up to a machine, stick a card in, and get money out without having to interact with a person. Toronto Dominion Bank came out with the "green machine" as the nickname for their ATM. When I was old enough to get an ATM card for my savings account (I think you actually had to be 14 to be given an ATM card at our bank) I thought that was way cool and was so proud. I was very careful with it.
When we go grocery shopping together I try and make sure I have some coin or paper bills, even small ones, on hand so I can let Bobbin "pay" for part of the groceries. But sometimes all I scrounge up are some pennies and nickels because I didn't have time to withdraw cash and Bobbin will proudly deposit these on the counter at the grocery store. Luckily the cashiers at our local PCC are happy to humour us, so I'll have a $50 total and then she'll subtract the 17 cents that Bobbin gave her and let me pay for the rest via my debit card.
Right now our primary focus with Bobbin on "Money Management" is saving - putting stuff in her piggy bank and making deposits into her savings account. On occasion I'll give her a little bit of money while we're in a store and ask her if she wants to buy something with it or save it so she can buy something more expensive later when she's saved enough. So despite the fact that almost all of our transactions take place electronically now and a little plastic card seems to magically pay for everything at whim, we are trying to teach her the value of money and making smart decisions, and that money is something you earn, not something you just have in endless supply. eventually when she's capable of grasping the concept, she'll be allowed to check her account balance online with our help but we're a ways out from that. It's definitely different though, because that little plastic debit card does seem so magical (not as magical as a credit card will seem when she understands the difference, but still). So for now we'll stick to cash-on-hand and counting out the stuff in her piggy bank.
Yeah... times, they are a-changin'. I can't wait to see what Bobbin's own blog entry will look like as she contemplates the differences between her childhood and her child's childhood. What will be the "blog" of the future? Maybe she'll just be projecting little 3-D holograms of her memories into a special nook of cyber space, accessible only by wearing the full-body sensation suit and viewing helmet. She'll be able to recall and project smells and tastes of her youth to her cyber-audience - comparing the aroma and palette of her favourite food - those oven-warmed frozen meatballs that were actually still made with meat from real animals - to that of the test-tube grown version of the same in the future. "I remember when they slaughtered animals for meat and the steak-on-a-stick that I used to love so much came from an actual cow" will be the thought that drifts alongside the images, smells, and tastes. Mmmm.
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Harnessing the power and adreneline of emotion
Posted by Heather on April 12, 2008 at 9:02 PM
Ever wonder what anger and moral outrage is worth? An hours worth is approximately 80 calories, I've discovered.
I did my usual 60 minute workout this evening on the elliptical. I've been averaging about 580 calories per 1 hour workout. Normally I watch The Daily Show followed by The Colbert Report. It's an easy hour filled with laughs and a pleasant way to work up a sweat and burn 580 calories without really noticing it too much.
Today, however, is Saturday. And neither show airs on the weekend. So I found myself surfing through the channel guide and landing on The Lifetime channel, watching a teen angst movie called "Odd Girl Out". Yeah, it's about exactly what you think it is about. Mean girls singling out the quirky and smart girl (on tv they're always cute too; totally unfair); completely ostracizing her by posting crap on the internet, luring her to fake events and then video taping her disappointed face, and eventually driving her to attempt suicide by sleeping pill overdose. It's a Lifetime movie, so it has a... uh... "happy" ending, in that the odd girl out recovers and regains the mental strength to go back to school to graduate from 8th grade with her class despite the continued mental and emotional bullying, and at the end in a crowd full of her peers, she finally confronts the main instigator and equates her to a flesh eating disease, ending the movie with the line " You have nothing I want", and walking away triumphantly with the one friend that stuck by her through everything (well, the last 15 minutes of the movie anyway; she never made an appearance in the first 45 minutes I watched. Weird. well. not really).
I ran the gambit of emotions - recalling my own pre-teen angst in grades 6-8 in particular and the constant insecurity I still maintained through high school and even university to some extent. I thought of Bobbin, today only 2 1/2 years old but someday having to run the marathon obstacle course that is middle and high school and hoping like hell she has a better time of it than I did, and is a better and strong person than I was, and that she is spared the pain and self doubt that I suffered through it all. And I was angry. Angry at the characters in the movie, even though I recognized the movie for what it was, and at the people in my real life back in middle and high school that I could cast in those same roles. And disgust and moral outrage that this crap continues in perpetuity. Lessons are never learned. Things never change. And worry because now there' s the internet, mobile text messaging, multi-party conference calling, instant video and photo uploads and mobile blogging (many technologies I am helping to sustain in the daily work I am paid to do), online "social networks", a PC on every desk and a mobile phone in every pocket, and a myriad of other "advances" that can do so much greater damage than the note passing and wall graffiti and prank calls of my youth. And how are you supposed to combat that?
And before I knew it my workout was over, and I had burned a total of 630 calories. And I was still raring to go. Luckily, the movie had another 5 minutes left so I moved over to the stationary bike and burned another 30 watching the grand finale.
It's apparently Teen Drama Weekend on the Lifetime channel. An opportunity exists for me to burn another 80 extra calories tomorrow. Of course, there's the question of whether it is mentally healthy to expose one's self to this much teen angst even if you are burning off the extra energy as you do so.
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Books on CD during the morning commute
Posted by Heather on April 10, 2008 at 3:16 PM
On a whim about a week ago, I bought a copy of a "Nemo" book + CD for Bobbin, thinking it might be interesting change of pace to have her listen to a book on CD in the car instead of the usual music (lately she's been alternating between "The Nutcracker" ballet suite and "Sharon, Lois and Bram's Travellin' Tunes". She has a range of musical tastes ;-)). I was also curious as to whether she'd "get it" - ie, the concept of reading the book while it is being read to her on CD.
I learned to read by following along to recordings of books on cassette tapes. I remember I had a bunch of book+tapes that my parents had bought me. My favourite, though, was Cinderella. And it was the summer before 1st grade, our first summer in Germany, that I recall vividly sitting on the floor of my bedroom in our 2nd floor apartment, cassette tape recorder on the floor next to me, book in lap, finger underlining each word as it was spoken, that I learned to read "and they lived happily ever after. The end". The cassette ended but I sat there and, with my right index finger pointing beneath each word, I read it over and over and over and over and over again, and I was so proud. And it was more than just knowing where one word ended and the other began. I already knew my ABCs and I knew the sounds letters made. And just repeatedly having the story read to me with me following along, it all eventually sunk in and then clicked. What a feeling that was.
So I was curious as to how much Bobbin would be capable of grasping, and also admittedly want to be able to watch over the course of the next 2 years, if she liked the concept and stuck with it, of it clicking with her as well.
When I picked her up at daycare I showed her the Nemo book and the CD, and explained that I was going to put the CD in the CD player and it would tell the story and she could follow along in her book. And she would know when it was time to turn the page, because the CD would make a special sound.
I popped the CD in, and had her keep the book closed while she listened to the instructions. They narrator explained that when you hear the "brrrrriiiiiiing" sound of the chimes, that was a signal that it was time to turn the page. She seemed to get it. Then the first chime sounded, and she looked at me and said "Mommy, time to turn the page?". I smiled and nodded.
The book is a paperback and she still has a bit of trouble manipulating the thin paper pages one at a time; often times they get stuck and she'll turn more than one. But she got the gist of it pretty quickly and before long was saying to herself instead of asking "time to turn the page".
Nemo was a good choice because she loves that movie and has watched it several times, and it had scenes directly from the movie in the book illustrations, and much of the sound from the movie included in the narrative. And there were a couple of times when she missed turning the page at the right time, but realized that she must be on the wrong page because the story as she was hearing it wasn't matching up to the picture on the page, and she'd look up puzzled and ask "turn page now?" or exclaim "I missed a page!" The familiarity with the sounds and the images helped her figure out whether she was on track.
We're a long ways away from her tracing her fingers over the words and reading them for herself, but it was so much fun for her to be able to "read" independantly and know when to turn the page.
I think the next purchase will be Cinderella :-)
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More on James Marshall, and keep 'em if you got 'em
Posted by Heather on April 10, 2008 at 1:43 PM
In my last blog entry I wrote about Bobbin's current favourite story: Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I briefly mentioned that the version that we have is the one r
Probably the same as you, being in total shock over the whole thing. That parent was SO out of line - how very sad. My afterthought is that I would hope that the coaches would address it immediately, if not shortly after the fact. They ultimately have responsibility to make sure their players are safe and their facilities are used for fun and learning. Perhaps a bit of a cop-out but at the same time, a legimate use of their authority in that place and time.
Posted by Debra on October 5, 2008 10:39 AM.I've been in situations like that, where a parent/grandparent has clearly lost control with a child. In my case, a grandmother was beating her grandson so badly, she was sweating and out of breath. Like you, I froze with tears in my eyes. But my 3-YEAR-OLD daughter had the courage to speak up with her hands on her hips and say, "It's not nice to hit!" And like that, the woman stopped. I hope that if I'm ever in a situation like that again, I will have the courage to act. It's a tough situation.
Posted by Kira on October 6, 2008 9:00 PM.To see that would bother me at a very deep level too....having also been where you have -at my wits end...If I saw this happen, I would also feel helpless...what could I possibly do for that little girl and her mother to make that moment better? The only thing that comes to mind is to go over with a smile on my face and invite the girl to play.....it may break the tantrum, and give the mom to a second to collect herself.
That moment you felt like you wanted to hug the girl? Compassion. Imagine a world with compassion...
I try to live by the following mantra by Ghandi "Be the change you wish to see in the world". If you want to the situation to be different..BE the difference...BE the person that brings compassion...don't rely on someone else, or think it's someone else's responsiblity...YOU can BE the difference.
So for me, when I get that tugging in my heart like you did... should do something and turn away?...I take a deep breath and get in there and operate from my heart...and if I'm too reluctant to do that, I would send good thoughts their way...we don't know what is wrong with the mom, we don't know her story...but what we can do is wish them all a better future...maybe that doesn't seem like enough but for now, if it's all you can do...having compassion, IS enough.
Posted by Lisa on October 7, 2008 3:35 PM.