Catching

You know those annoying habits your kids pick up that you are constantly trying to get them to stop. You know--nose picking, biting nails, chewing on their shirt and throwing everything in the air and catching it.  As a mom, I can see the long term consequences that completely escape their notice. You pick your nose, it can bleed and the skin gets red and irritated. You chew your nails, the nails get weak and tear.  You chew your shirt, the shirt collar will stretch and look funny.  I thought I knew the consequence for throwing and catching--you'll break something.  I now have a new one. You'll get a staple in your finger.




It never even dawned on me to tell my son to not throw a stapler when I asked him to get it for me.  It didn't dawn on me that my sports-inclined, agile son who likes to test his skills at all time would even toss it, watch it spin in the air and then catch it.  I was busy. It was time to leave for soccer practice, left-overs needed to be in the fridge because right after soccer was pack meeting.

I heard a brief shout.  No crying or screaming.  Just the loud, "MOOOOOMMMMM." 

Exasperated, my response was short as I shoved left-over pizza in the fridge.  "What."

He did a high pitched whine again, coming into the kitchen.  "MOOOOOMMMM. Look."

And there you have it, the long term consequence for throwing an ordinary household object in the air.  He said it didn't hurt. It just felt like a pinch and he only noticed it when he came to the kitchen.  It had gone into the pointer finger on his right hand.  I'd been reamed out by a nurse when he was 2 for pulling a nail out of his palm.  You're supposed to let a medical professional assess the foreign object to see if it hit bone or other important areas.  Still, I probably would have just pulled it out and put on a bandaid except that I could see the staple on the other side of his finger just under the nail.  That freaked me out. If it wasn't going to come easily, the medical professional could do it.

I called my blessedly close mother-in-law and left the other two children with her. I called the doctor's office while on the road and my husband met us there.  A lot of paper jokes, a quick yank, some tears and a prescription for augmentin and we were out of the doctor's office and ready to move on.  Even though his finger hurt for a couple of days, he did get a kick out of showing people the picture. And he got to add the doctor's collection of things he's pulled out of kids.  My son was most surprised by the rather large crayon that came out of a nose and 3 earring backs from girls putting them on too tight and it slips under the skin on the back.  That one surprised me too.

So, the next time you are trying to stop your boys from throwing and catching things in the house, you can always tell them that they could end up with a staple in a finger.

So a whole summer flew by and my children are well into the next school year.  I'm busy trying to catch up.  I heard about this phenomenon but thought it was but a myth when your mired in toddler years. It goes fast. When you can sleep through the night and never buy diapers, time suddenly leaps by. There is not one thing you can do to stop it.

 

Take this handsome boy for instance.  I can't stop the fact that his birthday came. He's 1 year older. He's taller, although he's not managed to edge his sister out in height yet but it's a close race. I can't stop the fact that he looks like a photo model and every photo session the photographers love how easy he is to pose and how quickly they get a great shot.

He loves all things outdoors, willing to try any sport and right now into cross country.  He LOVES his new bike and roller blades. As soon as the homework is done, he's out of the house.

He's extremely independent and careful about his appearance. Girls out there, I do have big stick and I'm not afraid to use it, especially those 3rd grade girls at Oquirrh Elementary who seem intent on chasing him right now. I know he's awesome but you're not allowed near him until 16 and even then you'll have to get by me to be part of his group dates.

For just a couple of more blinks, he's still my little boy. I love him just the way he is.

In Recognition

Happy Birthday!

The school year ends with recognition and awards.  For the 4th year running, my daughter has gone above and beyond. She has received the Mountain Man Award that requires extra goals and shows outstanding academics and citizenship.  She received the National Award for the physical fitness program.  She just missed Presidential level by being less than a minute over the time allowed for girls when running the mile.

After the schoolwide recognitions, I joined her class for a special recorder recital. I'm sure you all remember that lovely instrument from your own 4th grade experience.  She received additional awards for the girl who read the most minutes this year, 5,822 minutes that were recorded. She actually reads more than that (which is why she received her heart's desire of a kindle for her birthday).  She also received an award for the stretchiest girl. For the fitness testing, they have to pass a sit and reach. You sit and reach as far past your toes as you can go.  She can reach 39 centimeters.



And as she spends her very last hours as a 4th grader, she celebrates her birthday.  Today, we all recognize that she is 10 years old. As her body starts to curve, her dad has declared that mumu's are a lovely fashion choice. And while her dad and I batton down the hatches to weather the drama storm, we marvel at how kind she can be, how thoughtful of others (as long as they are not her brothers) and how brillant she is.

 We recognize how lovely, how creative, how smart, how kind,

 how perfectionist, how fashionista and how wonderful she really is.

Late 10

My family has recently discovered the kids bowl free summer program. I'd seen the flyer last year but never paid it much mind. This year with impending summer looming and activities required to keep kid #1 and kid #2 from constant fighting, I thought why not.  Hey, I can even use that semester of bowling I took in college for my generals physical education credit.

My youngest loves bowling. Go ahead, ask me how often he has played the Wii since May 15th when the program started.  He gets up, he does his chores, he reads and ask, "Can we go bowling now?"  He knows we have to bowl in the morning before Kindergarten because there is too much going on after school. It's like Christmas every morning, waking with eager anticipation.

Now we are becoming bowling aficionados. We are far from any level of expert but we're picking up the basics and a little more.  I have finally found the right weight ball works for me.  Yes, I have even purchased bowling shoes.  They're are pretty styling if I do say so myself.

My little bowler is all about the game.  The smallest ball weighs 6 lbs and initially that seemed too heavy.  Now that he has the hang of it, he's convinced that the 8 lbs gives him more strikes.  That's right he gets strikes as of last week.  After a month of playing, rolling, sometimes dropping the ball, he gets the late 10.  The ball rolls down and starts a chain reaction and that last pin or 2 will wobble and with more frequency now, fall all the way down.

Here is a sample of my morning fun.

Bowling Video

His high the first week was 90. Then his next high score was 95. Then 98.  Then he got his first strike. Now he can get at least 1 strike a game.  His real triumph--114.  He had the front counter print that game for his records.

So instead of virtual bowling on the Wii, we're doing the real thing.  It should be very interesting when kid #1 and kid #2 are finally out of school on Friday and we can all be bowling nerds together. We can be the late 10 club because that is the only way we are getting strikes, tilting our heads the side as we watch the last pin wobble and fall.

I respect my parents

Is there a price tag for respect?  Yes and no. As a parent my husband and I have struggled with how to really teach respect.  My kids are reaching the age of talking back, negative attitude, sarcasm, etc.  We are making an extra effort to exemplify respect to our children (yes, I have worked on my road ranting at other cars so my children see that even if a really dumb driver does something dangerous and almost hits us, I still do not lose my cool).  It's a daily struggle to remind my children that no matter how tired, disappointed or upset they are, it is not okay to take it out on me.

My one son particularly struggles--the most independent of course. The more he can do, the less he seems willing to understand that mom and dad still have say, and yes, you do have to talk nicely to us. The school introduced a Tae Kwon Do PE program and my daughter participated. At her graduation, my husband and I looked at each other and paid for a 7 week course for my independent son.

Each morning before he leaves for school, he recites a special creed:

I RESPECT MY PARENTS,
I RESPECT MY TEACHERS,
I RESPECT MY FRIENDS,
I RESPECT MYSELF,
Ma'am/SIR.

This whole month, while he learns to defend himself with special kicks and moves (which he absolutely loves), he is also learning about immediately answering his elders, bowing respectfully and working on the character trait of kindness. Every time I catch him being kind, I praise him and write it down. Every 7 instances earn him a stripe and every three stripes earn him a star on his uniform. His Master inquires at his improvement and asks what he can do to help.

The price tag is a little steep considering we have vehicles and medical bills that we are trying to pay off but I'm doing everything in my power to keep him in the program. How can I not when I see him succeed physically in Tae, emotionally improve, and have wonderful evenings where he asks what he can do to help?  We all need our outlets and for something so important as gaining more self-control and respect, I'm willing to pull out the checkbook to give my son a few more positive role models in his life.

I can do hard things

There is a new mantra in our home:  "I CAN DO HARD THINGS!"

My oldest tends to be skittish about failing. Yes, the OCD perfectionist gene has passed to the next generation.  What does this mean for an upcoming 10 year old?  There is a lot to be nervous about. There is a lot that has never been tried and therefore cannot be guaranteed to succeed in the first try.

For my daughter specifically, it means total meltdown at home when the prospect of a challenge looms. She's ranted about challenging homework for over 30 minutes. She's cried at the prospect of swimming lessons. She bites her nails at new situations.

I was therefore surprised that when my father asked if she wanted to run a mile race that she said yes.  Her younger brother eagerly wanted in and that may be why.  If there is anything to spur her on, it's the prospect of her barely younger brother-who will pass her by in height one day-doing what she cannot.

I was excited. We decided on a route to train with. I would bike with my youngest: 1. to teach him how to ride a bike 2. to keep up with my kids (because I'm an overweight, out-of-shape mom).

And so the meltdowns began.  There was every excuse on the books and she walked almost every practice.  Finally, in frustration, I put on running shoes and said if she couldn't keep up with fat, out-of-shape mommy, she should be ashamed.

My husband would squelch every meltdown with a brief reminder of her past successes and then loudly proclaim, "I CAN DO HARD THINGS!" and make her repeat it.

Race day came.  My husband and I had tried to be encouraging and the mantra was repeated frequently. What finally gave my daughter the incentive she needed?  Grandpa stopped by and offered $100 reward for being 1st in their age division before we could warn him that her brother had a very real chance of achieving it.  Her eyes lit up.

So, my oldest who never made a better time than 14 minutes in training came in at 10 minutes and 48 seconds; 4th in her age division. My husband missed her at the finish line because he hadn't expected her so soon. I'm framing the photo of her crossing the finish line as an additional, daily reminder that she can do hard things.

As Nelson Mandela has said, "It's only impossible until it's done."

P.S. Her brother managed 3rd in his age division
and 13th place in overall rankings at 8 minutes and 8 seconds; 1 minute and 3 seconds under the top boy in the race and 26 seconds away from having Grandpa pay out.

Love and Marriage

As Valentine's has just passed and my Wedding Anniversary draws near, my husband and I are all lovey-dovey. You know the kind, the one that makes your kids groan and say "eeeewwwww!" So, when my church was holding a marriage seminar for the women a week before Valentine's, it was not high on my priority list. There are so many other things to do with my time and I was curious as to who would be the "expert" on marriage. My husband and I are not perfect but he's my best friend and we put each other first. We are doing good.

He made me go.

Not because he thought we needed it but because the men in our church were strongly encouraged to support their wives going and my husband was trying to set a good example for others. So, I dragged my mother-in-law who lives down the street with me because if I was going she could go to. She had my same concern on "expert." We might be experts on our own marriage and have some tips but the only people who can be an expert on any marriage are the people married to each other.

It was good. They had 2 speakers and both talked about the little things we do that make a big difference. They talked a lot about the love languages and truly accepting and understanding what each other needs. They gave us fancier paper and said to write a love note.

Talking about writing a love note with my husband, we ended up disagreeing. He had kept a note I had forgotten I had written from 2008. It wasn't a love note. I still can't remember the circumstances. It brought up unhappy feelings for him and we rehashed old family differences. So the night before Valentine's day, we didn't go to bed exactly happy. After we finished our "discussion," he went downstairs and shredded the note. After he fell asleep, I wrote him a proper love note.

We had one the best Valentine's Days ever. He loved the new note, even more after he found out I wrote it post-"discussion." I made a candlelit dinner for five; my children's eyes initially widened when they saw the table. You are never too young to learn how to set the table for really special occasions. We even had dancing-Dance Party 3 Wii game was my gift to the family. My youngest and I rock at "This is Halloween" song.

Love is letting go of past wrongs, going the extra mile for small things and big things alike and celebrating whenever you can.

And being lovey-dovey every day to make your kids groan with horror but really having them know that mom and dad love each other.

Drama

While those who know me well might think that the title refers to my oldest girl and the never-ending battle with clothes and "tude" (defined as attitude with sarcasm and coincidentally enough sounds exactly like the her new word "dude" which she calls everyone right now), they would be wrong on this occasion.

I recently had drama that kept me up on Facebook past midnight.

What might keep a mother of three, very reasonable, very responsible up half the night while her husband and children peacefully sleep? Two words--music competition.

Parachute is touring and wanted to have local bands open for them. Salt Lake City is a stop. My very talented, musical, youngest brother wanted to be that band. His band Stereo Breakdown pooled their meager funds together (brother currently works part-time in a coffee shop while going to college) and bought an open box camcorder to film the music videos required by the contest. He had video editing software on his computer. They had a few songs recorded at studio downtown that they wrote for the competition.

No drama at this point. I, as a dutiful sister, went each day of the competition and voted for him and laughed/sometimes enjoyed the other bands. I only laughed in the privacy of my own home office.

On the 2nd to last round of the competition, the drama started. I had forgotten to vote in the morning. So, my husband and I used the Itouch in bed at 10:34 to vote. We noticed that the votes were very close. 1 vote apart. I called my brother and asked when voting ends. He said midnight and did we know anyone else who could vote.

As an established family with children in elementary school, my friends pool doesn't tend to stay up late into the evening. I apologized to him that I couldn't be more help. He mentioned that someone was bashing their band on the competition site and we said goodnight.

Leaving my husband in bed, I padded down in slippers to my office to see what was up. Yes, someone was bashing my brother's band. If the music wasn't his style, that is fine with me. However, he began to accuse them of spoiled pampering by parents giving thousands to give them a leg up on his favorite singer who was recording live from her own home (her own recording studio with a grand piano and professional equipment-the poor dear).

Needless to say, it rankled the members of my family. My father and brother retorted back before cooler heads could reign. The same guy (Rcast38) continued his bash fest against them from the anonymity of his user name and all the venom he could spew. I said something positive on the site and proceeded to Facebook to make a plea to all who might be online at 11:04 pm to help my brother with votes.

Thanks to reasonable people and wonderful late night support, my brother's band made it past that round of competition. The most soothing to my family and my brother was that Parachute voted for his band that round.

So, in some very small part, Rcast38 must take credit for inspiring the outpouring of support from the friends and family of Stereo Breakdown who might have slept through the last hour of competition instead of thinking of anyone else they could contact to vote. He continued his spew the next night of competition and even though my brother didn't win that final round, the rest of us are still proud him.

So that's my drama, family drama, the good kind. The kind where you do anything to help each other even if it's past bedtime because my family is awesome. If you type otherwise, we'll rally.

p.s. there is a wonderful Hunger Games theatrical trailer to view if you find yourself tapping the keys anxiously and waiting for midnight to come one night in the future.