Claiming my Children- Elizabeth

For the most part, I don't like to admit that my children have any of my personality. I know, parents are supposed to be beaming with pride every time they uncover a little gem of a personality quirk little Junior seems to have mined from the family genes. Cynics would say I must not love my children enough if I don't want to claim them in public, and a therapist would probably tell me I don't like myself enough to recognize my own good qualities. Whatever, I don't honestly have time to think about that stuff. My kids are crazy. And they get it from Rob.

But I'm starting to have to come to terms with the fact that my kids may actually be a lot like me. And not like the Elizabeth that I try to be, or that I at least try to convince others that I am. No, my kids seem to be the Elizabeth that my mom and sister have always complained about, the one that I am continually talking to inside my head, telling her to back off because if she comes out, bad things will happen. (Any therapists reading this are having a field day with me right now...)

My mom tells a story from my childhood, when I was about 2.5-3 years old. In this story (which is one I fully embrace, not one of the ones I believe she is mis-remembering...) precocious little Beth comes running up to say, "I drew a B, I drew a B!" My mother, being the perfectionist she is, says, "That's nice, but why does your B have three loops instead of just two?" Without missing a beat, little Beth says, "It's a B on a rock!" This story frightens me a lot, especially now that I'm a mother and realize that having a child of 2.5 who can write letters, while impressive, is exhausting. And having a child that can cover her mistakes with excuses and complicated stories is just plain torture.

One of the letters of the week we're doing at our house is, ironically, the letter B. You can only imagine where this story is going. Josiah, being my less-academic child, has always avoided anything to do with letters, writing, spelling... learning in general. (I don't push him, mostly because I don't care if he ever learns his letters because that means he'll never be able to text or email me nasty little messages when he's a teenager...) But yesterday he was all fired up to do some drawing. The first thing he did was draw two circles on top of each other, and then proudly announced that he wrote a B. I cheered him on, took crayons out of Gabby's mouth and returned to removing the stickers from the couch. Josiah kept drawing, and presented me with about four more renditions of his interpretation of the letter B.

I'm not a complete jerk of a mom, so I did a lot of praising and all that jazz the books tell you to do so that your kids wait until they have their own jobs before wanting to shell out money for therapy. Then I held up our little B poster and asked him if we could compare his B to the ones in the picture. We eventually uncovered the fact that his B did not have a long line from top to bottom like the B on our poster did. So I asked him if he wanted to add a line to his Bs.

His response, after barely pausing to take a breath: "Mama, my B doesn't like to stand up straight. Mine likes to roll, fast like a race car, so I need to leave it round like wheels so it can GO! Vroom!" And then his Bs went racing around the room, soon to be followed by Gabby's.

I'm not really sure how to respond. Are we glad he shows creativity and imagination? Are we impressed he even knows what a letter is, let alone being about to identify one AND have the desire to draw it? Do we think he'll be flipping burgers or pumping gas because I don't have to discipline to make him sit down and keep trying until he gets it right? (If you choose the last one, then I'll just tell you now that Josiah will be coming home smelling like gasoline or fry grease, because that whole abuse, I mean strict correction, is simply not happening with me...)

And here's the truth- the only way I know to respond is to finally admit that my little terror may actually be a lot like his mom. And now I have to go call my mom and sister, and apologize for, well, my entire childhood...

Nature vs. Library- Elizabeth

Now that the weather is nice, I'm trying to get the kids outside more. Today, I decided to forego our usual Wednesday morning library trip to spend some time in the yard. Here's what happened:

Gabby ran past me with two dead field mice in her hands.

And Taco brought us home a dead, bloody snake.

I think I've had enough nature for one morning. We're going to clean up, and sanitize ourselves until our skin burns, and go to the library.

Wisdom Nuggets- Elizabeth

Growing up, my mom had three answers to every problem in my life:
1) It's because you don't eat right
2) It's because you don't get enough sleep
3) It's on the floor of your room.
I would have to say, this truly did solve about 99% of my issues, except the ones that only many years of extensive therapy have any hope of putting a dent into.

I've been a mother now for almost 4 years. I'm trying to find my own little universal nuggets of wisdom that my kids will remember me by. I've been working on one for a while now, I'd like to know what you think. It goes something like this: Ignore it and it will go away.

If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I've been applying this to my life for many years now. Some people call it procrastinating. I object. Rather, it's a very carefully thought-out approach to addressing one's problems in a exceptionally proactive manner. It is, my friends, not the easy way out. No, this kind of philosophy takes discipline and committment, and is not for the faint of heart. I will give you some examples in my life:

1) Laundry. Ignoring laundry is really hard. Because when it's not done, it takes over your home. We currently have some clothing that is actually speaking to us, in addition to the normal stuff that just tries to trip you when it jumps out of the baskets. (Dirty laundry is just mean like that...) But in some ways, ignoring it is effective, especially with kids' clothes. See, if you wait long enough, your kids will outgrow the clothes, so you'll just have to box them up for charity once you finally wash it. And, voila, it goes away! So, in this area, I consider my wisdom nugget to be a success.

2) Fighting Children. Yes, my children fight. I know, I know, after all you've read about them, this comes as a complete shock. Sometimes they fight with each other. Sometimes with the cats. Sometimes with their toys. And sometimes just with life itself, because my kids are incredibly practiced in existential ponderings. It is not easy to ignore my children when they are fighting. They are loud. The are large. They have lots of energy. And they are creative. But I believe in my philosophy of ignoring, so, with the help of my MP3 player and strategically closed doors, I stick to my guns. And it's working. Sure, Josiah pushed Gabby down the stairs and split her lip open last week. But it's almost completely healed now, and if that doesn't fulfill the "it will go away" part of the wisdom, then nothing does.

3) That Funky Smell coming from the Refrigerator. This one doesn't need a whole lot of explanation. Pretty much, you can ignore whatever is growing in that box next to the milk. Because whatever it is will either walk away on its own, or the other adult in your home will eventually throw it away. Or, I guess, someone from your county's toxic waste removal services will respond to a call from your neighbor. Ignoring this is hard, people. Perhaps the most challenging of all, but a couple of good nose plugs, or a good head cold, will make this easier.

4) The Change Oil Soon light in the car. Rob likes to take credit for this one, and, to his face, I give it to him. But in reality, if I didn't ignore this light, it wouldn't get take care of. If I was proactive and took the car in to the dealer, then the car dudes would just try to tell me that I needed more spark plug fluid or something. And I would say, "Sure, whatever, don't worry about the cost!" and Rob would say, "Are you INSANE?? Don't EVER try to do anything with the car, don't take it to those crooks!" And the oil wouldn't get changed. So, in reality, my ignoring the light is the impetus that causes Rob to change the oil. Once again, nugget success.

I really could go on and on, but the more I type this, the more I'm convincing myself. So, yeah, I think I'm going to go ahead and ink this in my Mom's Book of Wisdom I'm making for my kids. Now to move onto the next one- Sugary cereals for Breakfast gives you energy for the whole day...

Boys and their Boy Parts- Elizabeth

I have been stupid. So very, very, very stupid. But, well, it started off innocently enough...

See, Josiah really struggled while learning to talk. We were even a little worried about him for a while (which says a lot, because I'm usually way too overwhelmed to be worried about such unimportant things like Josiah's development...) So when Josiah started to want to dress himself, just around his second birthday, we were living in a much more quiet world. And I didn't really understand boys. But now I am much wiser.

Picture this- here's me with a 6 month old that demanded I do everything for her, as 6 month olds are wont to do. And a 2 year old who just couldn't communicate with me. When he started to try to dress himself, I felt like I was getting about as close to the magic nanny robot coming to live with me as I ever would. Josiah did very well- except his underpants. He kept getting them on backwards. This is frustrating on so many levels. One, he can't really put any other clothes on until the underpants are on. Two, because NO male looks good with bikini briefs on backwards. There's just something wrong about a little lower butt-cheek handing out. Third, I just think Thomas the Tank Engine does not belong splashed across the boy parts. So we worked really hard, day after day, until one day, in exasperation, I showed Josiah the penis pocket. (Why, yes, that is the official name, thanks for asking...) Seriously, this was a great breakthrough for our, then mute, little dude. He, our almost dumbstruck child, almost always got them on right from then on. Yes, the pretty silent toddler was quite proud of himself.

And then he learned to talk. And talk. And talk. Seriously, the kid NEVER shuts up. And one of the first phrases he mastered- yes, that's right, the penis pocket. Penis pocket. Penis pocket. Penis pocket. Penis pocket. Oh, I'm sorry, is that annoying to hear over and over and over again, endlessly? I had no idea...

Every morning, Josiah displays his underpants for me and says, "Mama, is this the penis pocket?" After every bath, Josiah displays his underpants for me and says, "Mama, is this the penis pocket?" After every swim session, Josiah displays his underpants for me and says, "Mama, is this the penis pocket?" In the store, when looking for new underpants, Josiah says to me, "Make sure you get some with a penis pocket!" Loudly.

I keep telling myself this is a phase, but it's been almost two years now. I've told myself I will give him one more year to outgrow this. And then, it's war. I will be videotaping him, naked, in all his God-given glory, obsessing about his penis pocket. And I will save it to replay it at important occassions. Not just one occassion, like his first date. No, the repetitiveness of this all will be vindicated. I will play it for his first date. For his first prom. For his wedding. At his first son's first birthday. Better yet, I will teach his sons about the penis pocket. (But tell them only to ask their dad about it, because I won't torture my daughter in law. It's not her fault...) So, you know, be warned if you may be part of our lives at these times. The next year will determine much about what you may see in the future...