Monthly Archives: January 2012

Posted inEmotional Intelligence • Parenting • Parents

Bad! Bad Mommy!

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I took Christian to his preschool class this week. It’s held at a local college and part of the class is “parent education.” So while the kids play, the moms (and one dad) sit in a circle listening to the “parent educator” – I don’t know why they don’t just call her “teacher” or “professor.” This week’s topic was reading, but then we were encouraged to discuss any issues we’ve been having with our kids.

As the class went on, I began to feel worse and worse. First the educator talked about reading to our kids. She said it’s never too early or too often. Big fail on our part. We read to Rose from the womb and she loved it, but Christian won’t sit still for a book. We can hold his attention a little longer with a “touch and feel” book, but still, he squirms and complains. He’s 15 months old and he just started sitting down to read with us. We feel bad, but it’s the best we can do. We also feel bad because he’s not talking. He only says two words – “hi” and “bye.” By this age, his sister had been speaking for six months and already started to put phrases together. Must’ve been all that reading.

Even worse, one of the moms in the parenting group talked about smacking her kid’s hand when he reaches for something dangerous, like the stove or an electric socket. No one in the group thought anything of this but the parent educator warned that this kind of parenting will result in a combative kid. She said the kid will learn to solve problems with violence if his hand gets smacked.

During this discussion, I kept my mouth shut and focused on what horrible parents we are. Not only do we smack hands away from dangerous stuff, but sometimes — albeit very rarely — we spank Rose. That’s right, I said it. We don’t put her over our knee and beat her, just one swat on the butt when no other recourse gets her attention.

As the teacher went on and on about teaching violence, I had CSI-style flashbacks. Spanking Rose. Rose hitting Christian. Rose hitting her father. Rose hitting me. Oh my God, we’ve raised a pugilist! Just give her a few years and few more spankings and she’ll be the next featherweight champ!

As I was thinking about all of this, I heard the teacher talking about time-outs, and how they’re not to be used as punishment, they’re just a “break” for the kid to calm down. Yeah, sometimes, but what do you do when your kid has just picked her brother up by the neck, as Rose did the other night? Is that the point where you say, “Okay, Sweetie, seems you’ve been naughty. Take a few minutes to calm down in the time-out chair, okay?“

Let me tell you, we weren’t feeling “time-out” when Rose almost broke her brother’s neck. Matt screamed at her and sent her to her room while I comforted Christian and then I sat hugging myself, shocked and frightened at what had just happened. And I was angry too! At that point I wanted to take Rose over my knee and spank her. I wanted to ground her for the rest of her life and take away all of her toys. I wanted her to pay.

We didn’t do any of that, though. Matt just blew up at her and sent her to her room. She realized how serious the situation was by the tone and volume of her father’s voice, and she did not come out until he went back and talked to her, as I still sat there, frozen. I know Matt told her that she should never pick anyone up by the neck, because that could kill them. I don’t know if that approach works or just gives her ammunition when she decides that killing her brother is a good idea. And usually I hate when Matt yells at the kids, but this time, I felt it was warranted. Plus I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

As I sat in the parenting class, I kept thinking, I don’t need this class for Christian, I need it for Rose! The irony is that I attended the same class with Rose when she was her brother’s age. I think I was a much better parent to Rose then, just as I’m a better parent to Christian now. It’s Rose who throws me for a loop. I thought turning four was going to calm her down, at least a little bit. But it turns out four is just as bad as three. And I’m just as bad a mom at four as I was at three.

I need some parenting help. I need a whole overhaul of my parenting system. I need to find an effective way to discipline Rose and Christian, and to motivate Rose to comply when I tell her, for example, to put on her socks for preschool instead of dallying and making me mad. Matt and I need to find out how to control ourselves when she pushes our buttons. We need to know what to do when she does something truly egregious. We need to stop yelling.

We need to find someone to teach us all of these things. Maybe this parent education class is just what I need. Maybe I can sneak in questions about how to raise Rose in conjunction with her brother. If not, I’ll have to find another way. Got any ideas?

Posted inParenting • Parents • Self Care

Snowbored

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It’s almost over, and I don’t know if I’ll make it. Nine straight days with the kids in the house. It started last Friday. I took Christian to his new preschool program in the morning. I had waffled on signing him up because it meant no babysitting on Fridays, but in the end, I knew it would be good for him, so there we were. He had a blast and pooped out in the car on the way home. As he slept, I got to take a shower, then we picked Rose up. Since Christian napped earlier, he was up during Rose’s after-school nap. So basically all the alone time I got was in the shower.

I did go out later that day – took the kids to Costco – but we didn’t go out for our usual Friday dinner. Big mistake. Saturday, I wrote the blog and hung around the house. Matt took the kids to swim class. That was the day it started snowing. Matt and I had planned for a date night, for the first time in months, but by late afternoon, the roads were getting bad, so we cancelled. No date night for us, and I didn’t leave the house all day. The kids were ok. Lately they’ve started roughhousing on the floor and we had to break that up a few times, and Rose likes to scream while flitting around the house, but that’s normal.

Sunday came, with more snow, so we enjoyed the coziness of being snowed in. The kids were getting restless – plastering themselves to the windows and whining – so we took them outside. Christian didn’t like it, but he did like handling the snow shovel so we let him do that. Rose learned how to throw snowballs – very accurately — as she aimed for the back of my neck. When we went back in, Rose and I made cake pops. On Monday – Martin Luther King Day — the snow melted a bit, and, anticipating a big storm on Tuesday night, Matt and Rose, stir crazy by now, went out to get milk. I kept saying that we should all go out just for the heck of it because we’d be stuck in the house, but we didn’t. Big mistake.

Some of the schools pre-emptively cancelled classes Monday night, but Rose’s school was, thankfully, still open. I emailed the teacher to say we’d be there. I was ready to get the kids out of the house by then, especially knowing we’d have a huge (for here) snowstorm midweek. So we got ready for school Tuesday morning. And then it started snowing. Got an email from Rose’s preschool teacher – school was cancelled.

Rose was disappointed, and so was I, but we called our neighborhood babysitter and placated Rose with a movie. Rose was not liking being in the house, and she was also not liking the attention the babysitter was paying to her brother. From our temporary office lair downstairs, Matt and I heard her stomp off and slam the door to her room several times. She loooves this babysitter too, so we knew being in the house was getting to her. Tuesday wasn’t even “the big snow.” We were expecting eight inches of snow on Wednesday. So I knew school would be cancelled Wednesday and, more than likely, because they do not have snow management in the Seattle area, Thursday. I expected that I’d at least get some preschool on Friday.

So by this time, I’d had the kids all day, every day, since Saturday. I know I sound like a horrible parent, but I am just not used to having them more than three days in a row, unless we’re on vacation, and even then we make arrangements for alone time. I feel bad about it, but I am just not the stay-all-day-with-the-kids type. I need that time away from them to pursue my own work so I can be an effective parent when they’re around.

Having the kids in the house above you is not the same as having them out of the house. Rose kept coming downstairs; I had to come upstairs to make lunch; and I heard the constant stomping of little feet and screeching of little lungs, and booms followed by crying. I’m very thankful we had the babysitter but I am used to being alone in the house a few hours a day. And I am used to leaving the house every day, and I hadn’t done that since Friday.

It snowed all day Wednesday. The babysitter came again and took the kids out in the snow. Our neighbors were out with sleds and the kids went sledding down our road. We do that here. It’s a hill and it won’t get plowed, so that’s where everybody sleds. Matt and I worked downstairs. By this time we could not stand staying in the house, so we all went to play in the snow after naps. All of our neighbors were out – some we only see on snow days. We had fun chatting and sledding, until we heard a couple of transformers blow. I wanted to sled more – I only went down once – but I went in to make dinner, in case we lost power.

It snowed Thursday. Same routine. School closed. Babysitting in the morning. Out in the snow after naps. A hundred posts on Facebook, trying to connect with the outside world. The roads were still white.

Preschool was closed again Friday, because the roads weren’t clear yet, but we had hope, because it was supposed to warm up and start raining. It did, and I have never been so grateful for rain in my life. It cleared the roads and melted most of the snow, and we went out, me for the first time in a week, Friday night.

And here I am today, back in the house, writing the blog. What did all this snow teach me? It taught me a lot about how stir crazy I, and the kids, can get. It taught me that when I think I should get out of the house, I should do it. It also taught me that some things are out of my control, and that I should use every resource to deal with it the best I can. I’ll have to remember all that I’ve learned. We’re expecting another snowstorm next week.

Posted inmarriage • Parenting • Parents

Wishful Thinking

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I didn’t know he had it in him. I never thought he could do what he did, but he did it. Well. This week I was sick. Well, three of us were, anyway, one at a time. First Rose got it – stomach bug – I’ll spare you the details of cleaning it up, but it started at 5 a.m. and continued through the day. Next day, gone. Two days later, Matt got it – same thing, misery for twenty-four hours, next day, gone. Two days later, I got it. Woke at 4 a.m. with the “brick” in my stomach that Matt warned about. In the morning, I told him I had it. read more

Posted inEmotional Growth • marriage • relationships

Starving an Obsession

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My husband, Matt, spent Tuesday night at a bar watching the big bowl game for his alma mater, Virginia Tech. He was with a bunch of other Tech alums, and they all cared about the game. I stayed home with the kids that night, and you know what? I didn’t mind at all.

Matt’s obsession with Tech football is beyond my comprehension. The man is freakin’ crazy. So crazy that he talks to me about Tech ball all the time. He knows how little I care. I don’t even listen to be polite anymore but the guy just won’t get the hint. He even backs up game footage for me to see key plays.

I went to the University of South Florida and, though they have a pretty good team now, they did not have football when I was there. So I never watched college football – never cared, still don’t. He is constantly telling me “You guys beat Notre Dame,” and I say, “Who’s YOU?” Then he explains that “you” is “my” team. I’m glad they’ve got a good program now, but their wins mean nothing to me.

Back to Matt. When we first started dating, he took me to a Tech game. We met some friends down in Blacksburg, Virginia, tailgated and watched the game. The game was a blowout, the stands were freezing; the highlight was the fun we had spiking our sodas with smuggled liquor. But all in all, it was fun. And Matt jumping up and down screaming at the top of his lungs for his team was appropriate to the situation. Afterwards, we went to the book store to buy Tech gear. I was totally onboard. Matt was overjoyed that I willingly participated in his self-proclaimed crazy obsession.

I didn’t watch any other Tech games with Matt at the beginning of our relationship. We were both Dolphins fans, so when we watched football together, it was NFL. After about six months of dating, Matt’s apartment “allegedly” caught fire (but that’s another story) and he moved in with me. That’s when I saw his true maroon and orange. Every Saturday, and some Thursday nights, he’d watch a game, jumping up and down and screaming “COME ON REF! HOLDING!” or “BLOCK IN THE BACK! WHAT THE HELL?” Then he’d tell me, in great detail, how the officials cheated for the other team. This happened – happens — every single game.

So I went from liking the game experience to hating the drama every Saturday. The years went by. We got married and got a house so we didn’t have to be in the same room during games. Then we moved to Seattle. When we bought our house here, we specifically chose it because of its potential for a Man Cave. Matt created that Man Cave – bar at one end, maroon couch with orange pillows at the other. I told him that the Man Cave was his place to watch Tech games and he heartily agreed.

Well, Matt does not watch his games in the Man Cave. I think that in the three years we’ve lived in the house, he’s watched maybe four games down there. He prefers to watch games in my living room. And it makes me miserable. Instead of having his lunacy safely tucked away downstairs, it’s flagrantly displayed up here, where I could be watching “Sex and the City” if this maniac wasn’t taking up my space.

But I guess I should be happy about his personal interest in the game. One of the big issues in my last marriage was that my ex-husband had no interests of his own. He said he liked dressing up all medieval and sword-fighting, but he never made an effort to pursue it during our relationship. I hated carrying the burden of all of his social and entertainment needs. I had softball, and he had nothing to do with that. In fact, if he attended a game he’d read until I got up to bat. I finally told him not to come to games at all. And it was good to feel like I had my own thing.

Once I shooed my ex off the bleachers I enjoyed softball more, probably because it was mine again. And that’s why I have issues with Matt’s Virginia Tech obsession. He tries to include me in it even though he knows I’m not interested. And I don’t want to be included.

I love his obsession as long as he enjoys it without me. And that’s what happened this week. When we first moved to Seattle, he’d go to a bar every Saturday and watch games with other Tech fans. And I loved it. But once the kids came, he had this crazy idea that he needed to be home “for the children,” even though he’d wake them up with all of his crazy yelling. He has taken advantage of the time at home, though. This year he stained the living room ceiling while listening to games on the radio. And he does take the kids to the gym some game days, to give me time to write the blog. (He wanted me to say that. What he didn’t want me to say is that those times, the game’s not on TV here so it doesn’t really matter.)

So this week, when he asked if I’d mind his trip to the bar, I said no, not at all. I’m hoping I can encourage his outside interest to stay outside our home, but unfortunately, this is the last chance I’ll get until next season. I’m thinking of launching a campaign to make him watch “Sex and the City,” by backing up to key scenes and discussing the girls’ love lives with him at length, asking questions about “a guy’s perspective.” If that doesn’t work, I plan to redecorate the Man Cave as a writing room with my antique typewriter, bookcase and framed articles on the walls. Or maybe a dress-up room for Rose, complete with princess castle. If that doesn’t work, I’ll be the one to go to a bar during his games.