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How to make your kids like each other???

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I got this text from my 17 year old yesterday.

Sooooo…. sometimes there is a bit of a, say, division, between the two age groups of children in the house.

We’ve got the teens on one side, and the toddler/preschooler on the other.

No one has to share a room with anyone, which has probably saved lives by this point.

But what do I do, as a mom of all these *ahem* angels…. to help foster relationships? Especially as the older ones seek more time away from home and family? Clearly, if the above text is any indication, there is room for improvement.

Well, the one thing I swore I would never do was FORCE the older ones to babysit the little ones. As in, no one is going to have to skip a practice or game, or have to cancel plans of their own to watch some children that they did not bring into this world. Children who are probably very grateful that they are not being forced into the care of a less than thrilled older sibling.

I know, because I was that older sibling who HATED babysitting for my mother. DESPISED the three demon children from hell that I seemed to get stuck with when she had to go to work and dad wasn’t home yet. I swore, with all the conviction a 15 year old can have, that I would NEVER be crazy enough to have something so horrible as a child of my own. Now, I wasn’t being forced to give up anything to babysit, I really had no life so I’m sure my parents didn’t see the problem. And there should NOT have been a problem, except I was a teenager so of course EVERYTHING was a problem.

Remembering how MEAN I was, or at least how mean I felt, is the biggest reason I haven’t ever pushed the envelope and insisted the older ones take a bigger role in helping with the little ones. I really, really don’t want them to be mean. I want them to love each other, not feel forced to spend time together.

And they do help me a lot by doing things with the younger ones when we are all home together. Just playing with them for 30 minutes while I am making dinner, or cleaning up is a HUGE help. And I have had them babysit for a quick run to the store. Oh, and my oldest actually watched the kids for me last week when my husband and I went out of a real date, the first alone together in probably a year…. but I cleared it with her in advance and made sure she had no plans, and was ok with it. This is my way of trying to ensure they like each other and don’t resent the younger ones at all.

But the age difference means that the little ones sometimes become annoying when they are in “play” mode, and the older kids are NOT. Sometimes they don’t want a little kid barging into their room, screaming and throwing stuffed animals at them. Sometimes they get sick of the repetitive games that toddlers seem to crave. Sometimes they want the little chatterbox next to them to just…..stop chattering.

And then my oldest comes to me, as she has several times lately, and asks if the baby is even going to remember her once she goes to college. “Is she even going to know who I am?”. I then remind her that college is not in outer space, and she will still be coming home for holidays, vacations, summer…. and we will be face timing like no tomorrow. I like that she is worried about this. I want them to be close, but I also know it will probably take a lot of years before they start to have things in common, and a desire to be friends and not just sisters.

We deal with issues still, like when the 13 year old feels slighted, and believes that I must love the younger ones more than him because of the time I spend with them. He of course doesn’t remember being their age and getting ALL my attention because there wasn’t an older brother around complaining about it. I try to explain that he should not be jealous of the time I spend wiping butts, giving baths, dressing, and feeding the kids….. because I really don’t think he’d still want me doing those things for him. I mean, hey, if that’s what I need to do to PROVE my love….but I just don’t think it would look very good…..

At the end of the day, I have hope. Because the daughters enjoy each others company now, and every day is another day of bonding and memory making. They painted toe nails together today. The two boys have a secret handshake/hug they do every night, and end it with one of them saying “Best Friends….” and the other finishes “….Forever.”

And because I catch them having moments like this all the time, proof that they love each other, even if they don’t always LIKE each other.

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My proof that God exists.

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I had an experience when I was young, like 8 or 9, that really felt to me like Divine Intervention. Like the Big Guy was definitely looking out for me……

It’s not a near death experience. It’s not a tear jerker. But it’s something I never forgot, it felt like SOMEONE was giving me a message that day……

Flashback to grade school…. In my day (wow, I’m old), we packed lunch most days. I brown bagged it, and still love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Especially with a layer of Dorito’s in the middle.

On Fridays, I was allowed to buy lunch.

This was a big deal. You bought lunch tickets ahead of time, and at lunch time the teacher would have the kids who bought lunch stand at the front of the line as we walked to the cafeteria. Your lunch ticket was supposed to have your name written on the back of it. Mine did, I wrote them all out ahead of time at home. School lunch was awesome, even if the food actually sucked. There was just something about standing in line with the other kids, holding your tray. Moving down the line as the lunch ladies gave you whatever was on the menu for that day. I think Fridays was pizza day most of the time. AND, there was always dessert. My favorite was the Strawberry scooter crunch ice cream bar. Also a big hit on Fridays.

It just so happened that a good friend of mine happened to be the daughter of one of the teachers. One day we stayed after school to wait for her mom, and we were playing in the empty classrooms, running through the empty cafeteria. Then we saw it. People were cleaning, and had moved the huge garbage can from the kitchen out into the cafeteria. It was HEAPING with lunch tickets. Makes sense, right? You turn your ticket in…it got thrown away.

We looked at each other. Words were not necessary…and filled our pockets with used lunch tickets.

Suddenly, I was rich. that is exactly how it felt.

Day after day I got to stand at the front of the lunch line. Didn’t matter that I still packed my lunch…. I got the school lunch too, and just took what I wanted. Usually just the dessert. I felt no guilt.

One day, it was almost lunchtime. I had already taken out a random ticket from my baggie of lunch tickets with me. I was sitting at my desk, waiting for the teacher to call us to line up for the cafeteria. I could taste my Strawberry scooter crunch already!!

After we lined up, the teacher made an announcement. Someone had lost their lunch ticket, and thought it was taken out of their desk. She was going to come to us and have us show our tickets to her one by one.

There was NO escape for me. Immediately red faced, with my heart hammering, I held that ticket in my hand, wishing the floor would  just swallow me up. CURSING that damn garbage can, tempting me so much like Eve and that stupid apple. What in the hell was I going to say when she looked at my ticket and saw someone other kids name on it… and not even the kid whose ticket was missing???

I looked at my ticket as I waited for certain death.

It was BLANK. Holy Hell, there was no name on that lunch ticket!!

I can not explain the relief. And the wonder. How was it possible that I managed to pick the ONLY ticket without a name on the back of it on that day? Because I checked later, the rest of my stash definitely had names on them. So had all the tickets I used up to that point. Carefully written in 4th grade cursive as we had all been taught.

I didn’t get in trouble. No one ever knew what a thief I was. Until that moment of almost being caught, I really hadn’t thought of myself as a thief. Just someone to benefit from a happy circumstance. I mean, those tickets had been paid for once already, right? Keeping them in the garbage was just like, wasting them…right???

I don’t remember if I ended up buying lunch that day after all. I probably did. But I know I brought those tickets home and looked at them one by one that afternoon. Slightly crumpled, with names written in smudged pencil. All but the one I had magically chosen.

I threw them away. Finally feeling dirty about what I’d done.

And I thought about it. A lot. I felt there was a reason for what happened. I felt it was a message for me. Maybe corny, but to me, it was like God was showing me that there was nothing I did that He couldn’t see. He saved me, and wanted me to know it.

I know. You might think I am choosing to find meaning in what could have been just a lucky random event. And that’s ok.

I still feel what I feel about it. Insignificant of a story as it is, I remember still the fear of being caught, and that massive relief of knowing my dirty secret was safe. Followed by amazement at my luck. Or Divine Intervention. For me, it became proof. Proof that God is there. That he sees everything, and nothing gets past him.

I believe he “saved” me to teach me a lesson.

Over the years, I’ve had other experiences that support my faith, the usual birth of children, miracle of life, blah blah blah.

But I think this was the first time I felt some connection with the Big Guy. A nudge, or maybe an elbow… a little “Hey, I’m watching you over here….” And I took it as proof.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

 

Pee-Pee Potty!!

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So the baby is 18 months, and I’ve had all the potty chairs and potty inserts for the big toilets out for about a month.

I’m not crazy. I just want her to be really, really comfortable with the idea of using the potty.

And then I want her to just USE it.

She likes it. She sits on the potty when she wants to. Sometimes I’ve gotten her to pee on it. And next to it.

Sometimes she likes to stand in her potty too.

I’m so excited. SO excited to know that diapers will be off my shopping list one day. Soon I hope. But also not expecting miracles. So far my other three had completely different potty-training experiences so who know what this one has in store for me. I have amassed a vast array of potty training accessories from the last one. He was by far the most difficult.

I’ve got the “Potty Power” video. (corny, but he loved to watch it and sing/dance along). I’ve got a monkey that says he has to go potty, asks you to put him on his potty, and his little potty will flush too. I got the “Joshua” potty book that came with a potty chair that looks just like his. I’ve got a potty that looks like a frog. A potty that looks like a throne, complete with toilet paper holder and flushing handle. Of COURSE it plays royal music when you pee into it! Two potty seat inserts for the regular sized toilets. We made sticker calendars for the potty, but that only really worked with my first….for her that calendar was all she needed to go diaper free in 2 days.

I have forced everyone in my house to sing “pee-pee potty” over and over and over….. and I will do it again.

I do think I’ve learned some things, some weird facts and some helpful tips even. Like, for some reason, my kids would NOT pee if they didn’t have a diaper or underwear on. Seriously, with the 2 boys at least, if I just put a longer shirt to cover their little butt… both of them would take themselves potty and not have accidents. I learned this from my first boy, who took matters into his own hands and trained himself by going commando at every opportunity until I gave up trying to keep him covered. In big boy pants by his 2nd birthday. DONE.

My last one….wow. I didn’t realize a child under 2 could already have issues about pooping in front of people. He initially would not poop at all unless it was in his pants (pull ups). I slowly managed to get him to at least stand in the bathroom instead of behind a chair, and then sit on the potty-in his pull up, and then with the sides open…. eventually I had him pooping on his potty INTO his pull up. It NEEDED to be there or he would freak out. One day I changed it to toilet paper, I had to line the bottom of his potty, and once he did it once or twice he was ok with it. He had some issue with his poop just dropping into the unknown, or into a cold plastic container I guess. He was also the only one in pull ups, which initially I found to be AMAZING…and later hated as I found myself too weak to break the habit time and time again.

That little guy was 2 and a half before we could say he was potty trained. I spent a year working on that. When I got rid of the disposable training pants, and used good old fashioned cotton pants, with a nice baggy vinyl cover on over it (protecting the furniture)… he was trained in no time. But before that, time and again I talked about getting rid of the pull ups, to be met with horror on my husbands face, no doubt imagining his living room saturated with pee puddles and poopy piles.

pants(vinyl diaper/training pant covers… got mine from amazon.com, where I get most fun things)

I think this time around…. I have to be strong. I have to do it without pull ups. I really think they are a huge factor in delaying potty training. They really ARE just diapers. Diapers that pull on and off, that have a little picture on the front that gets all fuzzy when they pee. We all KNOW they can pee in them, the kids know they can pee in them, so even if we all pretend they should definitely NOT pee in them….there isn’t a whole lot of discomfort if they do.

I think when they actually realize they have this soggy mess in their pants…. and the clean up is a little bit more difficult than pull off, and pull on…. they might have more incentive to get to that potty. It’s a theory…. I’ll see how it goes without using them this time.

pee For now, this is something fun and different for baby Jenna. She started grabbing her diaper and saying “Uh-Oh” sometimes when she pees. She wakes up dry a lot from naps and in the morning….and usually will let me sit her on the potty for a bit to pee at those times. Sometimes she pees even! We talk about the potty, we say goodbye to the pee pee as we flush it, she even knows we wash our hands after all the potty business.

I still have a picture somewhere on this computer of Sammy’s poop. In the potty. he was so excited, he wanted to take a picture. Absolutely I let him, and we couldn’t wait to show EVERYONE as they came home! It’s a big deal!!

I promise I’m not a Nazi potty training mom. I would never force a child to sit against their will, or make them feel bad about going potty in their pants. Accidents happen, they HAVE to happen so they can be learned from. BUT… I can still hope. Here is my hope: Jenna will play like this with the potty for the next several months, then suddenly, wake up and understand completely what she needs to do. She will take off her diaper, and inform me that she wants big girl pants now, please. Pink.

And we will live happily ever after……

 

Quail eggs, and other weird things to feed the kids

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I had my dad over today for lunch, part of his fathers day gift. He came in the house carrying this plastic bag, all exited to show us.

At first glance, it would seem he was appealing to our collective sweet tooth with some pretty big malted eggs…maybe from Malley’s, but why in that plastic bag? Oh no, they are Quail eggs! And he really thinks I should feed them to the kids because they are so little and cute.

It was one of those moments that I just couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Quail eggs??

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I guess my mom works with a lady who raises these birds. Somehow everyone she works with has tried these eggs, so mom thinks they would be awesome to fry up for my 4 year old-who could resist such a cute tiny egg?

Well…….. I could. I really could resist those eggs.

I let Sammy hold the bag and peer into it. Why are they brown??  Mom, is that poop on those eggs?

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Really, is he really going to eat these things? I’m kind of grossed out, they look like reptile eggs, and I don’t know if I trust them not to spreading some weird quail disease to my family. I pretty much decided to get rid of them, only feeling slightly guilty. Then mom calls, “please don’t throw those away, they are perfectly good eggs!” She wants me to bring them back to her and SHE’LL eat them if the kids won’t. Because she doesn’t want to waste them. I googled it. Yep, people DO eat these eggs… a lot!

Ugh. And then the 17 year old comes home and sees the eggs. Immediately, it is decided we must cook the eggs.

Did you know a Quail egg is harder to crack than a chicken egg? I ruined a few by crumbling the outer shell into the bowl while the inner lining was still intact, making it feel like I was holding this little squishy eyeball in my hand. Yech! Egg parts were all mixed up with shell, so I tossed the bowl and started again. Ok, let’s try frying them.

Still felt like I was going to be dropping little baby alligators into the pan. Finally got a few fried, minus one that literally SHOT across the kitchen as I punctured that tough inner lining with a knife. We all shuddered.

Once fried, the gross factor was much less. They did look just like normal tiny eggs. They smelled normal. Who to try the first one??

Baby Jenna… that’s who. Because she’s eating again and she will eat anything again, God love her.

She walked up and opens wide, and in goes the first bite. Hopefully not along with some crazy bird disease. She likes it, opens for more. Sammy then gets brave, we let him try it. Now we’re 2 for 2. I make the 17 year old try it, mostly because I don’t want the babies to be the only ones at risk for side effects at this point. they are still all standing, assuring me they taste fine. So I try a tiny taste.

It DID taste fine, just like a chicken egg. But KNOWING it wasn’t a chicken egg still made my tummy feel gross after swallowing, and I just couldn’t taste anymore.

By the way, quail eggs are considered a delicacy in some parts of the world. And I’ve read they are way more nutritious than chicken eggs.

I don’t care. They look weird and seem dirty somehow to me. Thank goodness the kids are braver than I am, and seem to be doing ok several hours after their snack.

I’m not surprised they ate them. Although I struggle these days to get Sammy to eat a full meal, he and his little sister do enjoy a variety of “weird foods”. Things I didn’t know existed at their ages… Like pickled turnips, for breakfast. Pomegranate seeds. Eggplant stew.

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I think it’s great, a little strange sometimes, but great. I buy things just to see if someone might eat it. All kids except one LOVE brussel sprouts. My oldest was eating clams and muscles out of the shell by age 4. Another thing I would not TOUCH, just because they are really really ugly. But great for her!

Isn’t it funny how we get comfortable with our “normal” foods, and weirded out by things we aren’t used to?

I know someone who had to go to Switzerland on business, and went to a restaurant for dinner…ordered a steak. “Steak de Cheval”…thinking it was some fancy way of cooking it.

It was horse. He ate horse steak.

Still hasn’t gotten over it.

Well, at least I can tell my mom we didn’t waste the eggs. Most of them. I just wish I didn’t feel kind of guilty still, kind of sick to my stomach still….. and I’ll be watching the kids for a while for symptoms. Can’t help it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My toddler stopped eating last week

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You would think that after having 4 kids, and keeping all of them alive for a number of years…… that I would not be phased by a recent decision by my 18 month old to quit eating.

But I hate it. I really hate it when they don’t eat. I NEED her to eat a meal again!

Mentally, I’m a mess.

This may go back to my initial post partum depression/anxiety after I had the kids. I noticed even after feeling “better”, that I had this thing about them eating. I did everything around their feeding schedule in the beginning-which is normal…. but then even later I put way too much emphasis on what time they needed food.

Even taking Sammy to Boston right before he turned 3, I remember my mini anxiety attack as we were unable to get somewhere to feed him lunch fast enough for my liking. He was fine, not even asking about food….but I was melting down, like he was going to absolutely shrivel up and blow away without a meal in his stomach right NOW.

So, the kids eating seems to be really important to me. Must tie in to that whole sustaining life thing…..

Logically, I KNOW that it’s normal for toddlers to decide not to eat. Or only eat cheerios for a week, things like that. Sammy went a good month or so at this age refusing everything unless I coated it in applesauce.

But with Jenna, this just came out of nowhere. She loves food!  She eats EVERYTHING, always has. Even ethnic foods, she’ll try anything. It’s not teething, she’s done, everything is in. I’d like to blame it on her cold, which she’s had for literally a month now….but why stop eating this far in?

I think she’s toying with me.

All her favorite things, no longer interested. Weirdly, she’s always loved veggies more than fruit. So it’s not surprising when she tastes mango or banana and just lets it drop out of her mouth. But brussel sprouts??? Asparagus and green beans?? If I try to get her to eat a bite, she will tell me no. Try it again, she yells at me and literally bangs her head on the back of her chair. I want to bang my head too.

The old tricks don’t work anymore, like Katy Perry videos on Youtube to distract her, or lately we are watching songs about colors and numbers in Arabic. She still likes them, but that mouth stays closed.

I know I’ve gone through this before. Why is it still so frustrating? Why haven’t I figured out how to handle this gracefully yet?

Seriously. She refused a chocolate chip cookie today. There is something wrong.

I’ve taken to googling phrases like “my toddler won’t eat”, “my 18 month old hates food”, “my daughter hates me”….. and find nothing more than other parents who are scratching their heads as well, pretty much saying the same things, but so far no one has THE ANSWER.

Ok. I know the answer. She’ll eat when she’s hungry. Keep offering her healthy choices. Don’t give her a bunch of crap between meals to ruin her appetite for good food. She won’t starve. Get your head out of the oven. I know… I know…..

But it sucks!!

She is not starving. She is not losing weight. She still has a chubby belly, and fills her diapers like nobody’s business. I know this will pass, one of the less fun aspects of raising a toddler. But I would still like to bitch about it, just this once.

You know that feeling you have when you KNOW your child has a full tummy of good food? Yea, I want that again. I want to feel like I’m doing a good job and nourishing my babies.

She just needs to know this and cooperate. Dammit.

 

 

 

Traveling to Vegas with KIDS

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Advice from a lady who survived

So I made it to Vegas….and back….with the two little ones. I am happy to report that child services was not called, no one was lost, stolen, or abandoned…..and we even enjoyed ourselves. Most of the time.

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 8:30 am. Alarm was set for 5:16am. Luckily, we were already up with the baby. She’d been up and down all night, ended up in my bed around 3am because I incorrectly assumed she might sleep better. She’s been cutting her incisors, and is the worst teether in the world.  At this point, hubby and I were looking at each other with dread in our eyes, so scared of what was in store for us on the plane.

I brought a large backpack as a carry on, with lots of compartments for diapers, wipes, toys, snacks, blankets, DVD’s, extra clothes. I had been collecting little toys and gadgets here and there for weeks. Cheap light up bracelets and necklaces, pipe cleaners, magnet boards, anything I thought might capture the attention of a toddler stuck on my lap for 4.5 hours. I wasn’t even worried about the 4 year old, and true to form, he was great on the plane. When not sleeping, he mostly played with his leap pad, stored in his own little backpack carry on.

This was going to be our second trip with baby Jenna, the first was to Disney when she was 11 months old. She was pretty good then, but I had no positive expectations this time for the flight,  being twice as long. Especially with her larger than life voice, her dramatic way of throwing herself to the floor and pouting when she doesn’t get her way, and that whiny-scream thing she does when she wants something she isn’t allowed to have.

Here is what happened.

She was great at the airport. We hung out by the windows to watch the planes and she stood on the back of the chair jumping and yelling at them.

I had the kids walking around as much as possible before boarding. Partly to release energy. Partly to make sure Jenna would pee or poop if she needed to. She will not do this if I’m holding her, even on my lap. I changed her right before we boarded.

We boarded almost last. I wanted to make sure we had the least amount of time sitting on the plane, waiting for take off. This keeps them from getting bored or restless too early. The new environment and people around has worked well with Sammy, and now with Jenna, to keep the kids quiet and busy looking around for a bit. Bonus if you have someone acting up nearby to focus on.

I kept the carry on under the seat in front of me, I never use the overhead compartments, it scares me to have the stuff I might need too far from me.

You can’t break out the DVD player or electronic games until after the flight is up in the air. Taking off is pretty exciting by itself, both kids liked looking out the window and feeling the plane going so fast.

Sammy pretty much fell asleep right away.

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I tried to keep Jenna occupied with as much stuff OUTSIDE of our carry on as possible. She loved two things. My iPhone, and the headphones the airline provides to everyone. These two things kept her happy for a good hour, allowing me to slightly relax and think this might end up ok for us.

She is great at navigating through photos and video’s on my phone. I made sure I had plenty of videos of her and her siblings, and she scanned through everything, playing some over and over. I think the iPhone is probably the most valuable travel accessory for me right now. We also have songs downloaded that she likes, and played those (softly) so she could rock out in the seat.

She still uses a binky for sleeping, so after a good hour I gave it to her and held her close to me. This is our ritual for napping and bedtime, I like to hold her still to put her to sleep. She zonked out and slept for 2 HOURS!!  It was great, except the seat arm was biting into my back and side the whole time. It is pretty impossible to be comfortable for hours on a plane, holding a sleeping baby.

I brought some snacks, and I always bring sippy cups so I can transfer drinks into them for the kids when we are out. I did buy one of the boxed snack sets the airline offered, just because I love airplane food, all packed into it’s cute little compartments. Everyone got to taste something, and it wasn’t really expensive, I was surprised.

Just a side note…. wipes. You can never bring enough wipes when traveling with kids. And not just stored in one spot. Inevitably something will spill, or there will be an incredibly messy sneeze, someone will need a tissue NOW… and you can’t be looking through compartments, digging around for wipes. I brought a million packs, there were some in my purse, the carry on, and I left a pack out tucked into the seatback in front of me. They are soooo necessary to have easy access to.

The pressure starts to hurt my ears during the last 45 minutes or so of any flight. Sometimes, it is pretty terrible and stabbing for me, and I can’t imagine why everyone isn’t holding their heads and crying. I made sure the kids had snacks during this time, and drinks to help with it…but they both seemed completely unaffected.

Our landing was uneventful, and once safely on the ground, I let the kids share the window seat to look outside while we waited…..and waited…..to get off the plane.

Once off the plane, we of course had to get our luggage, and get a cab to our hotel. I’ve done the cab route, and I’ve done the shuttle or bus route. Usually, the shuttle is cheaper, and most places can book that into your trip ahead of time (like expedia)…but then you may end up traveling with lots of other people, stopping at other places before getting to your destination. With kids, I would rather pay for the convenience of getting to my hotel ASAP.

We stayed in Vegas for 4 days, 5 nights. I will blog about that trip, and what I found was good and bad about taking 2 kids to Vegas.

The flight home was scheduled at 11:30am, and I was most worried about Jenna falling asleep before getting on the plane. If at all possible, I want them to sleep on the plane. It worked out well, we got to the airport with a good hour to spare. The kids hadn’t wanted much breakfast, so I got a pizza and they both had some before we boarded. I again changed Jen’s diaper right before boarding.

This time, Jenna fell asleep right after take-off. She woke up after about 1.5 hours, right when Sammy decided to sleep. She and I had the window seat, and I try to get the very last row of seats on the plane. This is my strategy to help “block” us in, and also to cut down on the people we may be annoying. Being in the last row means you can only physically bother the people in front of you, there is no one behind you to get hit by flying toys, or bodily fluids.

I tried to get her to watch “Frozen”…. and she did. For about 15 minutes. Then, she wanted DOWN. I let her stand in front of my seat, there was really nowhere else she could go. This gave her a bit of freedom, at least she wasn’t stuck on my lap, being held…but she couldn’t possibly get under the seats in front of us, or past our carry on baggage to get into the aisle.

She looked out the window. I got out pipe cleaners…. she liked holding the bag, and then throwing them all over the floor. We played with the iPhone again….. I even took her into the tiny bathroom to change her diaper just to take up some time and give us something to do.

Don’t even TRY taking a bag of any kind into those bathrooms. Take your diaper, your wipes, and whatever you want to use to lie the baby on over the changing table. You will go into a tiny closet and there is NO waste of space in there. The changing table is directly over the toilet, making it impossible for me to pee at the same time the table is pulled down. This means she had to stand in front of me after changing her so I could pee. This means she tried her best to get out the flimsy folding door while my pants were down and she thought she could escape. I was afraid someone would think I was trying to get out, and open the door somehow from the outside. Bad baby.

Back in the seat during the last hour of the flight. Both kids were awake. Somehow doing ok. Hubby was playing with the 4 year old-twisting our used pipe-cleaners into a plane shape, Jenna was attempting summersaults across the seats (the armrests will move up, essentially creating a very small loveseat sized space for us all). I know you are required to wear seatbelts when seated, but apparently this is only for the grown ups.

She did start to have a mini meltdown right before landing, prompting me to search frantically for the “emergency binky”. I held her and gave it to her, and although she didn’t sleep, she did relax and calm down.

Although we made it, without loss of life or limb…… I was completely exhausted from the mental stress of WORRYING. Worrying about what might happen is usually worse than what actually happens. Which is fine.

Now that we are back, I’m so glad the flight part of our trip is over. Despite the fact that it went very smoothly for us (there was another kid, about 3, screaming for a good 30 minutes on the way home), I am not in any hurry to rush back onto a plane.

I have learned some things from traveling with kids though…and the one thing I know for sure….is that you just can’t predict what will happen. Our job as parents is just to be as ready as we can be….. and pray someone else’s kids are acting much worse than ours to take the pressure off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sammy and the moon

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My Sammy just turned 4 years old.

He’s always been a funny kid, an inquisitive kid, a very active kid.

Like many kids his age, he talks on his imaginary cell phone, fights all sorts of “bad guys” with super ninja moves all around the house, uses the word “actually” a lot, and asks question after question as he tries to make sense of this place we live.

One day a couple weeks ago, he asked me when the moon was going to talk. I kind of laughed and said I didn’t know the moon COULD talk. He was completely serious, he knew it was going to happen and he believed it was going to happen that night. As soon as it was dark enough for the moon to be “out” all the way.

It just so happened that his dad was home early that night, and took Sammy with him to visit some relatives. They all sat outside and Sammy watched for the moon, still believing “he” was going to talk to everyone if they were just patient. People laughed, commenting to each other “how cute!, he thinks the moon can talk!”

He came home in tears. Devastated. The moon DIDN’T talk.

My husband had played along with him, not realizing how serious it was for Sammy. He didn’t know how to fix this. You can’t just buy a talking moon at Target. Neither of us was prepared for the letdown when his expectation didn’t happen.

He went to bed that night a little broken hearted, the silent moon mocking him from above. (Well, probably not…)

He brought it up the next day, still puzzled. Trying to work it out, as if he just needed to find the right “code word” or perhaps the right sequence of secret hand gestures to release the moons voice.

I felt like he was too serious to play with about this. I wondered if I should be more forceful in telling him that I really, really didn’t think the moon could talk.

A couple nights later, he announced that the moon would talk…..in two days. I don’t know where he got that information, but we all wanted to see where this would go. He mentioned that the moon might even “come down” but he needed to eat all of his vegetables first. Great idea. So the moon is a guy, he will be talking and possibly visiting in 2 days.

It’s funny, because every day since, the answer is still the same; the moon will talk in 2 days. No problem.

Coping mechanism?

I love his imagination. He hasn’t seemed upset since that first night of bitter disappointment, instead the moon talking is always safely “2 days away”. I am sure this is a way his 4 year old mind has dealt with a problem that he just was not able to figure out or fix. I’m not going to worry about him being 30, and creating imaginary solutions to deal with realities that he can’t handle. I’m pretty sure I don’t need to be concerned about that.

Now he’s an expert on the moon, did you know he looks white in the sky because he drinks so much milk?? He doesn’t have parents though, so that’s kind of sad.

I think his mind is amazing. I love it, I love talking to him and hearing his logic. His opinions are based on so many things that may or may not have to do with reality or fact….but they are valid for him. I don’t want to stifle that imagination, I don’t want to force him to think in terms of what’s “normal”….at least not yet.

So I enjoy him and our conversations. About the moon. About painting his toenails, because “mom, I like green, why can’t boys paint their toenails green??” He makes a good point! Why not indeed? And maybe the moon will talk, to a little boy who believes it so much, he might just make magic happen.

Nothing beats writing in a journal

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I started my first journal as an assignment in high school. January 25, 1991, 10th period composition class. Hmmmm, I was 15 then.

Back then, it started out as something I had to do for credit. We were given different things to write about and turned in our journals to be graded each week.

I enjoyed it. And I kept writing even after I didn’t have to.

There were more journals after that first one. Early ones filled with teenage uncertainty, drama, angst. Later, as life got busier with jobs and kids, I wrote less. I stopped writing in my “all purpose” journal, and started a pregnancy journal for each child. Each would chronicle my pregnancy, hopes and fears, body changes, and later would also include notes about the baby. How I felt (depressed initially, elated eventually), and every once in a while I go back into those journals and jot some notes about, or a letter to that child….talking about them and how much I love them.

Once in a while, I will come across my stack of journals and page through them…reading things I can’t believe I’d forgotten in some cases. Sometimes, when I’m feeling REALLY wild and crazy, I will look up the same date in different journals to see how my life changed over the years.

journals

Here’s how it works. Usually, I’ll check out what I was doing “today”, or a date close to it. So……..On May 1st, 1991, My teenage self was focusing on the very important topic of boys, which one’s I liked, which ones liked me, and how I can’t believe one of the guys I’d been drooling over was actually dating an old friend of mine from middle school…. and WHAT is up with that, “She’s not as pretty as me and her personality is just strange!”

That journal is really hard for me to read. I’m just….embarrassed for myself.

5/1/1997, Pregnancy journal 1: I was up to 155# at the doctor appointment that day, complaining about back pain, hip pain, worrying about labor, and getting up all night to pee still sucked.

4/28/2001, Pregnancy journal 2: “Today was one of the worst days. I cried today a few times.” The baby (3 weeks) has been crying so much, I’m sleep deprived, I saw blood in his diaper and was taking him in to the doctor.

5/1/2010, Pregnancy journal 3: “Sammy is 3 weeks old tomorrow….I’m feeling much better, I feel like we’ve finally bonded. Doing better with breastfeeding-don’t feel so much like he’s not going to survive or something.”

5/13/11, Regular journal: “Rachel will be 14 tomorrow…in a lot of ways those days were really the happiest of my life, I miss it. Things just get busier and harder, I have less and less time. I miss those days with her, I really was the center of her world. I hugged her yesterday after her game, she was upset for playing bad. She didn’t give me much of a hug back. She always seems to be holding back now, doesn’t want to get too close. I hope this changes, I miss her hugs. She’s almost a grown up now. I’m so sad about it, it came too fast!! I wish I could just go back to when she was younger, just to visit and feel those memories happening around me again. Thank God the kids are all good and healthy, I really have been blessed!”

5/1/2012, Pregnancy journal 4: It’s hard to study, I’m so tired at night I fall asleep whenever I sit down to relax. “Six weeks pregnant now, baby is the size of an ice cream sprinkle.”

5/9/2013, Pregnancy journal 4: “my Jenna-Bean, you are amazing! Why do I find you so wonderful, cute, perfect, adorable and fun?? Because you are!! Thank you God for this angel, I could not have asked for anything more…”

These journals are a treasure for me. They really are a way for me to get back into the moments we can’t hold onto forever. Yes, I can’t stand the teen I was, superficial, selfish, and sooooo annoying. But I sure can relate to my own teen as I read the entries of a teenage me, and cringe the entire time.

I visit painful memories. Happy memories, sad memories. I empathize with the depressed me suffering with PPD and worrying that she/I may never feel better again. I enjoy silly memories of my kids growing up. I have mixed feelings still when I read entries about preparing for my first wedding, and the wishes, hopes, and dreams I penned onto those pages. I shake my head at how young that girl was, and how grown up she thought she was.

I realize that time will not stop. My kids will continue to grow, and one day have families of their own. I feel like my daughters will probably want to read the things I’ve written about them, starting with my first positive pregnancy test…..and only ending when I no longer have the presence of mind to continue writing. I’m not sure about the boys….but I still keep writing about them, and writing to them.

There is something special about choosing a new journal. It must be hardcover, not too thick or thin. I hold it in my hand, flipping through it’s empty pages, and wonder where I will be in life by the time I fill those pages. When I find a new journal that looks and feels just “right”… I take it home and open it up, usually 12am or later when everyone in the house is in bed. This is my time to be alone with my thoughts. I put the date on the inside cover, and  wonder who will eventually read these pages, and what will they think of me?

And then I start writing.

 

 

 

 

 

Did I just buy Heroin??

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I may have just spent $200 on Heroin. Or maybe cocaine, alcohol, narcotics… I’m not sure.

I didn’t want to do it. I was mad, worried, and hopeful that I was just being suspicious.

But I did it. Because I didn’t have the guts to say no.

To my brother.

Because I love him. And he went through rehab. And I want to believe he really needed the money to fix his car.

But did he really need me to western union him the money right NOW on a Saturday night?

So urgently did he call, and text. I tried to ignore it because he just got my sister and my parents to send him money for this car last week. Last week when he was also urgently calling and texting me, but thank god I was at work so could not get back to him. The problem is, his car WAS impounded, I think. That’s what he needed it for last week, to get it out of the impound lot. This week, he needs the money to pay for the parts before the mechanic will order them because my brother doesn’t have car insurance…and the guy doesn’t want to get screwed.

Well, it sounds like it COULD be legit.

And I really want to believe that he is still clean.

But as he’s telling me this story yesterday…..and sounding so believable. And so much like my little brother who I love and want to protect….I have this inner voice just screaming at me, how STUPID can you be to listen to this guy!!! This is the guy who lied to your face, EVERYONE’s face before you forced him into rehab and you ALL wanted to believe him then too!! And really, as I am listening to him complain about the mechanic, and how horrible he feels for asking for money, I hear him and it’s so hard to turn my back on him. It’s so hard to hear that voice and remember that it might sound like him, but it’s probably the drugs talking. Again.

What mechanic needs $200 on a Saturday night suddenly right NOW, causing little brother to start calling and texting me and my sister, until he got one of us to call him back, or finally answer. His desperation. Now that it’s over, I see how desperate he was. TOO desperate for just car parts… especially for a car that he doesn’t even need, he doesn’t even have a job that he needs to drive to!

I hated him and loved him as I heard his voice, the hope in it, and the shame in it. I hated myself for not being strong enough, for not knowing the “right thing” to say….the right question to ask that would allow him to admit what he’s been up to. I alternated between yelling at him and telling him I loved him. I elicited promises from him that the money was truly for his car. He gave me the name of the mechanic, the name of his shop. So it must be legit, right??? I told him NEVER to ask me for money again, I would not give it. Then I apologized. I told him if he is screwing me over I will never ever speak to him again. Then I apologized. I told him he has to pay me back, and I apologized again for being suspicious. All the while still suspicious. I hate this!! I told him I wish I could just lock him up in my basement, he laughed. I made him promise to get me documentation from the mechanic showing the cost of the parts, and receipt of my $200. Of course, he promised. I felt horrible saying these things, not wanting to hurt him, not wanting him to feel I don’t believe in him.

I did it because I was afraid that he might be telling the truth…..and how would I feel knowing I let him down if he really needed my help? But I’m an ass. Because truth or not, I don’t trust him yet. I might not ever, and I think I just bought him drugs.

After I wired the money, he must have called 5 times. It wasn’t there fast enough. Then the fraud department from Western Union called me. Weird questions. What is my relationship to this person, how old am I, what main road do I live by…. the last question I really had a hard time with. “Ma’am, did you want to send this money?” I sputtered around, “What do you mean? Do you know something I don’t?” “Are you asking if I’m being coerced??” The lady didn’t directly answer that. She kind of laughed, and asked again. “Ma’am, I just need to know if you did really want to send this money?”

“NO.” I told her, truthfully. “I really didn’t want to, but he said he needed it, so I felt like I had to.”

She said she understood.

I wish I understood. I wish I hadn’t done it.

Heroin. I want to punch you in the face.

Why do we travel with Kids????

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I am going to Vegas in a month.

With a 4 year old.

And a 1 year old.

The flight will be just over 4 hours, and I know I will be on the verge of dying the whole way.

As much as I am looking forward to being there, I dread the task of GETTING there. And that is the problem, because kids are smart, and like wild animals….they can smell fear.

It is a terrifying thing to know you are stuck on a plane with a kid who is about to have the mother of tantrums……and short of suffocating them, there is NOTHING you can do to make them stop. It might be the scariest thing ever. So of course I try to pack for every possible shift in humor, every potential desire, every whim that child may have.

I’ve done this pretty successfully with one young child. But this will be the first trip with two . And I hate myself as much as all other passengers are going to hate me as I walk past them to my seat, holding a toddler, a blanket, a 4 year old by the hand, and a huge backpack with a variety of toys and treats, guaranteed to hold their interest for a good 30-45 seconds.

I’ll be praying to be seated near other people with kids. Best case scenario, someone will have a HORRIBLE child who acts up the whole way, if they are bad enough they might just keep the interest of my kids who can just watch them instead of “Frozen”, which I will definitely be packing. As much as I would feel bad for that parent, I will also be silently thanking them for taking the pressure off of me and mine.

Is that wrong? I don’t think so.

I can’t convey the stress…..

The fact that I have been so LUCKY travelling with a little one in the past…does not bode well for me. My now 4 year old has really been great so far. He went with us to Florida once, Boston once, and Vegas twice before he was 3, and was a champ each time on the plane. I was so proud at the end of each trip, pretending I was somehow responsible for his behavior. Other passengers may have been fooled…..but parents know. They know my turn is coming.

I feel like this trip might just be the one.

The one to put me back in my place, and remind me that I have NO control at all. All the pipe cleaners, stickers, goldfish crackers and juice boxes can’t save me when that baby decides she wants to get off my damn lap and go find something she can put in her mouth and try to choke on. Or maybe she’ll want to grab the face of the guy in front of me, innocently smiling at her as though she’s harmless, and doesn’t plan to gouge his eyes out. Oh, it could get bad.

It could be the 4 year old too. He did recently throw himself onto the floor at drug mart because I wouldn’t buy him a plastic gun there. I had to drag him out of the store, all the while keeping a totally unaffected, even nonchalant look on my face for the other patrons. I don’t think I can pull that off for 4 hours.

My husband hates travelling with me like this, because I am literally so tense beforehand-I can barely speak. I pack so much in the carry-on, because this is life or death! If I can’t produce a spinny thing that lights up like right NOW, all hell is going to break loose people, I just KNOW it!!

So this is my warning to you.

We’re coming. There might be pee, there might be vomit…I just don’t know. Don’t get too close,and for gods sake….don’t make eye contact.