Showing posts with label Kids. Show all posts

"Get that Corn Outta My Face!"

It does not, I’m convinced, occur to little children that putting something 2 inches in front of your nose is rude.  Nor do they find it problematic to continue talking to you while holding said item in front of your face.
                                        Sun, Children Drawing, Image, Drawing
Are you on the phone? Not an issue for a child. This does nothing to prevent them from their task, and they will often speak a little louder, in case the phone conversation is keeping you from hearing the request. 

 On the potty? We’ve discussed this in an earlier post, but suffice it to say that this is actually a preferred position for the prospective listener to be in, for they are cornered and easier to approach while “at their duty”. 

 Correcting another child? Speaking to another human present? Thinking? Cooking? Reading? Sleeping? These are all no problem for children, and in fact your immobility in those moments make you a prime target.


Playmobil, Kitchen, Toys, Play, CookGirl, School, University, Education                     Sleeping, Reading, Woman, Reader, Book

This situation happens more than occasionally to me, though I have continued the anti paper-in-the-face training with this kind of conversation:

Me - “Hey, honeybun, can you move that beautiful picture for a minute?  I just need to finish grading this.  And remember it’s rude to put.....

A child - “ Look at the ladybug I drew and I made a number two all by myself and I like blue and the cloud is big because it’s about to rain. “

Me - “That’s great but I’ll be able to look at it better when you move the paper and I can finish this.  Be patient.”

Sometimes the child will then turn on their heel and begin to walk away, as if the moment is lost and any value on the page expired with my lack of attention.  I quickly call the child back to me and say something like:

“Come back.  (with my hand gently on child’s arm) Now, be patient and as soon as I’m at a good stopping point, I’ll give you my full attention.  Wait here.  It’ll just be a moment.”

No doubt a child who is old enough to notice is thinking: “A good stopping point?  Seemed like a good stopping point when you just stopped to tell me to wait!”

True.

Nevertheless, I believe in the value of delayed gratification.  You know, waiting to get what you want because the outcome is better.  Like, your mother is actually looking at your picture and paying it attention instead of mindlessly mumbling, “Uh huh. So nice.”

Also, there is value in simply being patient when someone is already engaged.  Especially if it involved interacting with someone else before you got there.  Waiting your turn, as it were.  Manners.

Now, let me be clear:  I am not referring to a child with an emergency.  Bleeding, yelling, crying, and rushed information all get my immediate attention!

                                                 Pitbull, Dog, Pet, Animal

(child slides into room talking so fast and breathlessly they are almost unintelligible):
"Mama there's a dog from next door you know the one that is big and it isn't Princess and not the dog from 2 houses down but that other one and it's in the field and the chickens are out and the little kids are out there trying to get the dog not to see the chickens and you better come stop them before that dog sees the chickens!"

But yes.  Delayed gratification, patience, and waiting your turn is good.  And I will continue to teach this to my children and anyone else in my sphere of influence that need reminding of these good things.  (I also can hear what I am saying and I can learn a lot from my own correction!)

In the meantime, I guess will patiently continue to move beautiful things from in front of my face and wait for the gratification of seeing my children exercise these same qualities when it comes to getting my attention for anything else that deserves my undue attention.  Especially beautiful crayon pictures of ladybugs.  

Why are you here?

My oldest child suggested I write a blog again.

Oh yes.  This isn’t my first rodeo.  Back in the mid 2000’s, my sistah friend Stephanie made me get an email address (I resisted, she insisted), and we both started clever blogs.  Back then, it was how you saw what your friends were thinking about and any creative goo that was falling out of their heads.  Think Facebook, only without the nasty, voyeuristic narcissism.  Anywho, we did some pretty fun stuff there, and even wrote a few posts that prompted serious contemplation.  We bookmarked our favorite blogs (no feeds back then sister), which consisted solely of people we personally knew, and as time and life ran on, it outpaced our interest in typing out our personal musings.



Which brings me to this morning.

Katie, the aforementioned oldest child, whipped up this blog in the span of a few hours last night.  She even went back to my old blog (it’s still there!!) and started moving old posts over here!  I don’t remember agreeing to ANYTHING.  Our conversation went something like this:

Katie (use a higher pitched, pushy teenage girl voice) - “Mom, you really should write a blog. I’m sure you’d have fun with it.”

She begins pulling up some blog template site on her computer, (did you know they had those?  I didn’t.) creating the very blog you’re looking at.

Me (use a sophisticated, kind womanly voice) – “Gee honey, I don’t know, I already have a lot to do.  Sounds like another commitment to me.

K – “Oh no! It’ll be just for fun! You can write once a week – it’ll take like 30 minutes tops.  You don’t have 30 minutes to do something you enjoy?”

Me – “Well, I do like writing, but I’m already doing stuff I enjoy.  I wasn’t really shopping around for a new hobby.”

She then begins asking me questions about myself…”What’s your favorite food?  What’s your favorite color?  How many children do you have?”

Trying to be an accommodating mother, I good-naturedly began my answers:

“Well I do love steak and pasta and seafood, but you know a good salad with croutons and cheese is a wonderful meal.  Actually, steak or pasta or seafood ON a salad is even better.  Of course I don’t guess you meant what I like for dessert right?   I could give you some answers that go that direction too…are you getting all this?”


She typed stuff out, picked out colors, forced me to give ideas for a blog name/subtitle, made me decide which sidebars and menus and barrettes and jewelry to put on the thing.  I patiently tried to please her every wish.   And before I knew it, she was trying to announce at supper that I was an authoress.   Of course, I smiled ingratiatingly at her and said, “Please pass the croutons”.

She continued to tell me how she could help me get more viewers or trackers or readers or whatever. I say again, I don’t remember agreeing to ANY of this.   But that’s okay, I thought.   I’ll just let her have fun setting this up and humor her tonight.  I reminded myself that this was a way I could help my daughter stir up her creative juices.  I hoped she had thoroughly enjoyed this little design session.

And then I woke up this morning an hour before my alarm, (our youngest, Polly, consistently screeches cheerfully at 6:30 every am) and guess why I couldn’t roll over and enjoy that last blissful snoozy hour?  I was thinking about my first new blog post.

Pushy girl.




The Thinkin' Chair!

I do some of my best thinkin' in the bathroom. I don't just mean upon the john. I mean generally, as in the room named after the luxury of sitting in a luke-warm mini-pond of your own filth.


I've heard others say the same thing - that they do their best thinkin' and prayin' in that particular room. Now why do you think that is?

Some may say, "Well you are often in various stages of undress there, and this lends itself to self-examination and transparency with God."

Too symbolic.

Others agree that, "We spend time in this room eliminating waste and relieving ourselves of "encumbrances" so we are freer to think there."

Gross.

Ya' know what I think?

I think it's the only room where you get left alone. Most of the time.

My father-in-law, Paw-Paw, as he is called by most, claims he never spent an alone moment in the "restroom", as it is also called, (but why?) during his child rearing years, and my husband confirms this claim. Paw-Paw said the kids would sit and visit with their Dear Ole Dad, he upon the pot, and the children on the side of the tub. He would often have a newspaper with him, but I suspect that was only a ploy to make the younguns think he was otherwise occupied (since just being in there didn't do the trick). I hear it never worked. The way he tells it, I think he sorta misses the company.

I too have experienced the interrupted time in the bathroom. In fact, with an 18mo old in tow, I find no "business" is too serious that she will not intrude with talking, (read: jabbering), digging in off-limit drawers/cabinets containing toxic cleaners/toilet paper, and continually coming in and out of the saloon-style swinging half-doors that a bartender must have installed to lend "privacy" to those on the potty.



With 2 bathrooms and 8 people, I also must share these quarters with others during bath time/shower time in the evening, so really, nothing seems to be sacred to these short people.

However, I truly don't prefer being alone, so children really have solved that small problem. It's good to have these little friends around me, all the time, even when I'm "thinking".

Chores aren't a bore!!


It's been my observation that chores come with their own rewards. Not just the "a job well done is it's own reward" deal, though that can be true, but actual perks, I'm sayin'.

Examine, if you will, vacuuming.



It is, by far, my favorite traditional household-cleaning chore. Such satisfaction in seeing the vacuum tracks as you go, and a completed room all fluffed up with parallel rows covering the carpet! Oh yeah, and it's clean too. Gives me a little lift.



There too, is the laundry. There is reward in each step:

Sorting? Easy money in forgotten pockets!
Putting into the washing machine with soap and softener? Smells delightful!
Moving clothes to the dryer? It's fun to clean the lint filter!
Folding warm clothes? Not so fun.
But stacks of folded clothes sitting on the couch, ready to be put away? A success!!

I really don't despise any chore, though some are less savory than others.



Take cleaning up the floor after the baby has "eaten". Wiping up steamed (read: smashed) broccoli florets with a wet paper towel is a little unappetizing. Especially if I'm about to eat my lunch. However, kissing said baby after having rinsed off his little hands and face (read: sponge bath) is a favorite reward of mine!

I may be easily amused, but I'm endeavoring to always be lookin' for the bright side (often, it is the right side!) of things, and honestly, perspective is a big part of how content you are.

So, dear reader, when it comes time again to mop and scrub those floors, and it's all clean and still shiny with wetness, do what I do: put each foot on a paper towel, and slide around like you're ice skating, til it's all dry! It'll cause your kids to question your saneness, and put a smile on your face!!

Let them eat CANDY!!






When's the last time you heard this sentence spoken:
"Please,... don't buy any more candy!"?

My mother informed me that she has, again, asked this of my father. This made me laugh out loud.

I mean c'mon. "No More Candy!"? No one says that!
People love candy! Especially my dad. Actually, he loves all things edible, but still.

I will allow that he buys it at every opportunity:

- When he "runs to Walmart".

- At the gas station.

- Goin' to see the grandkids? Let's pick up some "treats".

- On a roadtrip.

- During ANY holiday (and it's half-off the day after the holiday you know).

- Anytime you happen to be in the car going somewhere that might have candy.

Shoot. He even buys the candy at the Mexican restaurants by the cash register. Mmmmmm.



Okay. So he buys too much candy. But I'm not askin' him to stop. (I NEVER get to eat that Mexican candy, unless I'm with him, and I really like it.)

Used to, when I was in highschool/college, Kat and I would always get gas station candy for any road trip. Typical fare was gummy bears, bit-o-honey (still a fav of mine), sugar daddys, sugary bubble gum, and, for some reason, pistacios. (though I hated the pink stain on my fingers, I loved the sugar/salt combo)

I miss that. When I see Kat now, which isn't often enough, we still pick up the candy to enjoy with the kiddos.

But it's bad for us, so I don't buy it any other time. And I want it to be "a treat" for every now and then.

Like when we visit my mom and dad.

Broken and rejected







As I stepped into the wet shower last night, I discovered something that was all too familiar since having children. Broken soap.

What is it with the kids and the soap bars? They LOVE to destroy them! I mean DESTROY! Once, my now-9 year old boy, who was 7 at the time, smeared tiny, broken pieces of soap all over the shower walls. (Oddly, cleaning off the soap 2 days later, when it was all dry, proved difficult.)

My 4-year old girl often leaves her own trail of soap pieces in my bathtub, most a little too large to make it down the drain. So they congregate at the stopper, and wait for the next customer to release them and their film into the next bathfull of water.



Sometimes, when the bar develops a waistline, the children simply break it.

I've also found soap that was just dug out in the middle, or scraped with a fingernail across the length, with the cast-offs left to go to gush on the soapdish.

I remember playing with the soap as a child, and doing similar injustices to the bar. So, I guess I should ignore it. Not charge them the quarter it'll cost to replace the now useless bar. Not scrape it all back together at the next bathtime and mumble, "Try to bathe with this little fella'!" After all, they're really just having good, clean fun. (pun intended)

You know you look.

I know it's been said before, and maybe it's trite, but I'll say it again.

People act like monkeys.

Remember that episode of Seinfeld where some guys at the office are watching George through a glass door? He's ranting and flinging his arms around while holding a banana. The guys give him the nickname "Coco".

Well, besides flinging our arms for emphasis, we share another quality with the monkeys. I'm not the first to notice this, but it bears repeating. We gotta look at what comes out of our bodies.

I watched as one of my children, while working on some schoolwork, scratched their nose. (name, and gender sensitive pronoun omitted to protect the innocent) You know what this child did, right? Looked at what was brought away from said nose.


This child is no different from any of the rest of us. (so get that "poor, gross little kid" look off your face!) We ALL look at what gets scratched off the skin, what comes out of the nose, off the hiney, and out of the hiney. When people blow their noses or cough, they look. When they scratch the inside of their ear with a finger, they look.

What is this about? I know, and I'll tell you.

I'll begin by admitting that I've shamelessly taken part in this activity. First of all, it's entertaining. Also, I think I have gleaned some important knowledge about my bodily-goings-on by looking at what comes out of it. I'm sure LOTS of medical facts have been acquired this way - however, I'm not as interested in what comes out of other people's bodies. That's the difference between normal people and doctors.

Anyway, I won't stop looking, though I will always try to be discreet in front of you.

Oh my stars!


My 6-year old, Simeon, spends a lot of his "free time" (read: time) playing with legos while listening to "Hank the Cowdog". (if you've never heard these books-on-tape, or read one of the books by John R. Erickson, you're missing some excellent entertainment indeed.)

At first I wondered if he was actually hearing any of the audiobook. My question has been answered by these quotes from Hank that Simeon uses in everyday life....


"Oh my stars!" - used as an exclamation for just about everything

"Where is the ____ I so richly deserve?" - "dessert" is often the inserted word, though can be
used to "ask" for a number of things

"It's me. Hank the Cowdog. Head of Ranch Security." not by way of introduction, but just as a comment

"There's been a murder on the ranch!"

"You stole my bacon, Hankie" (Pete the barncat says this)

"Turn that disrespectful thing off!"

"The moon, made of chopped chicken-liver" (an odd, incomplete sentence that brings a smile to his little face)

Check out some Hank paperbacks or audiobooks (read hilariously by the author and original songs are included!) from your local library and enjoy some free chuckles - it's good for you!

Give it to me!!

Hidedy Ho All!!

So I gave a good aquaintance of mine a little gifty for the baby she was about to have, and the scene went something like this:

Her: Hey Bonnie how are you. (she was tired - 9 mo pregnant)

(I hand her the gift as I sit to visit)

Me: Good! I got you a little something. You seem tired. Ready to have that baby?

(She begins to unwrap the gift)

Her: Yeah. I'm on my feet all day and we will probably induce on the 12th. I'm hoping that we won't have alot of visitors when the baby is born. This is great. My mother-in-law thinks she will be coming to stay a week, but my husband is going to have a little talk with her about that.

--------------------------------------------------

Perhaps you missed her reaction to opening my gift.

"This is great".


That's all I got people. Now I do consider myself a rather demonstrative person, and by all accounts I try not to expect the same of others, to let them be themselves in this way, but COME ON! I need more than a non-emphatic "this is great"! I need feedback!!

From time to time, my husband finds humor in purposefully NOT giving me feedback about something which I am hotly trying to engage him in conversation about. These kinds of conversations are often punctuated with "Ya' know", "Right?", and other such lead-ins to response, from me. I pause, waiting for the feedback. I try to be considerate, because the man may be thinking before answering. I prompt with "Honey?", needing the feedback. He giggles. Drives me crazy!

I dunno. Maybe it's because I spend my days with VERY transparent people.


They are EXTREMELY clear about their emotions and have no trouble showing them. I find this refreshing and very satisfying. I'll take these "WOO - HOO! We're goin' to Taco Bell for lunch!"and "MAMA! (loud crying) I didn't want the blue paper! I wanted PINK!" -type reactions anyday, over the blase, non-emotional responses to life.

So, I admit, I need it. Be a pal, and give it to me, okay. Besides, it'll make you more child-like, and God says that's good.