08/14/12

Back-to-School Training

The countdown is on. In less than two weeks the school year will begin. As I sit here organizing my Fall calendar (who needs free time between 3pm – 9pm, not this girl) I realize my kids aren’t ready. These kids are getting soft. I mean every day they swam at the pool, hung out with their friends and played tennis. These marshmallows had unfettered access to technology and the pantry. They get an “A” in summer vacation, but the party is over kids. It’s time to start your Back-to-School training.

Phase 1: Bore them to tears
You may think this is cruel and unusual training but just bear with me on this one. As a professional helicopter parent I try to fill every moment of their days with educational, balanced nutrition filled, PC activities. I mean I am MAKING PEOPLE and I get one shot, so I need to do this crap right. For these last two weeks before school I do NADA. Nothing. I leave them alone with their thoughts and siblings. The copter stays on the helipad and my three beauties moan about how it’s so BORING at home. It’s so BORING having free-will and no responsibilities. Hummmm – school is looking better isn’t it kids?

Phase 2: Pre-season conditioning
It’s cruel to send them to bed the night before school ON TIME and then wake them with the birds. I mean think about their poor little REM deprived bodies. This is no way to help them adjust. For a minimum of a week I am going to wake these beasts at 6am. Yes, it is earlier than they need to get up during the year. It’s brilliant. When I sweetly wake them (read flick on the lights and bang a gong in their ear) the first day of school, these kids will think they’re SLEEPING IN.

Phase 3: Weight Training
For a minimum of 3 days make your babies carry their shiny new backpacks filled to the brim (a couple of good sized rocks hidden in the bottom will really speed up the process). Those books are heavy and it’s time to get a jump start on those attractive groove marks in their shoulder blades. The backpack 3 day will get your child ready and their walk to school will seem like a gift.

Phase 4: Academic Bootcamp
Remember that big packet of summer math and reading your child’s teacher so lovingly sent home with their report card? Come on now, you know the one, it’s sitting right next to the Library’s “summer reading spectacular” booklet you had every intention of completing with your exceptional child. Well, now is the time to pull that sucker out. Once the cries of “we’re bored” start go in for the kill. You have about two weeks to get two months worth of schoolwork completed. Set those kids up at the dining room table and only let them take a break to work on their backpack strength training. You’ll have their brains turned back on and ready in no time.

Just four easy steps and your golden child will be ready and rearing to go back to school. Good luck my fellow ‘copter parents.

05/3/12

Let’s Talk About Sex Over a Bowl of Fruity Pebbles

Scene: Kitchen. Oldest son is having breakfast before school. Mother, no coffee and barely awake. Son eating sugar coma awful cereal and talking with his mouth full, because the cotillion classes were obviously a waste of money.

Middle School Son: “Did Dad give you some love last night?”
Mother: *dumbstruck, followed by nausea and then silently screaming SHIT SHIT SHIT in my head*
Middle School Son: “Oh, wait, Oh I think I know what that means.”
Mother: “Dude, you just asked me if Dad and I got it on last night, like you know, sex.”
Middle School Son: “OH..NO..OH Sorry, I meant like a hug since you had a hard day.”

This my friends is called a teachable moment. A moment when I went over all the terms used for sex with my 14 year old son. It was the quickest I have ever seen him get dressed and out the door for school in all of his many years. Tomorrow we plan on tackling STD’s. My guess is he’ll be ready for school and at the bus stop by 6am.

End Scene.

04/6/12

Becoming a Mother

14 years ago today I became a mother. I was a mother in the truest sense of the word months before, but my little man decided to join us on this day in 1998.

My sweet boy and I fought like hell to get him here. My first pregnancy was one for the books, and not the glowing pregnant lady books. No, my first pregnancy was for the book you want to tuck away and hope it never happens again. The book you want to forget you ever had to write.

Polyhydramnious by the end of the first trimester (too much amniotic fluid so my body looked and felt like I was carrying multiply babies), pre-term labor by 20 weeks, bed-rest by 26 weeks, active early labor then in hospital bed rest by 32 weeks. Tests, so very many tests by so many doctors. Drugs that made me dizzy, unable to focus and sick. There were drugs that filled my lungs with fluid, so I couldn’t breathe. I sat on my side praying this little boy would stay put for four weeks. I was in labor the entire time, but he and I are tough, he stayed inside and I stayed sane.

I have been asked by so many people, how I managed to stay in bed from January to March. How on earth did I manage to plunge a needle into my leg and give myself the medication to stop the labor? The answer was simple. Even then, before I had seen his sweet face or smelled his baby smell I was his mother. Mother’s have super-human ability to do what they need to do to save their child. I still remember re-adjusting my mind-set and my physical self. I am not a calm person, but I remember being very accepting of what was happening to me. I didn’t fight it, I just tried to flow from day to day knowing each day he was inside was another day he could grow and be safe. I was able to accept what was happening, there was no turning back, so I had to do everything I could to save this little boy.

There were two exceptions to my zen existence: the day I went into pre-term labor and the day I was induced into labor. Those two days I knew I was in trouble. Those two days I could not get anyone to listen to me until it was almost too late. Everyone reacts to pain very differently. I have realized I shut-up and take it. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t get people to listen to me, so I just took it. I was told I was over-reacting, I didn’t know anything as a first time mother. The blood, the pain, the gnawing feeling that something was terribly wrong – I was told it was all-normal. It wasn’t. The day I delivered my boy, we were in serious trouble. The nurses ignored my requests for the doctor, for someone to listen to me. Thankfully the anesthesiologist came in and she immediately called a code. By then I couldn’t breathe or focus, by then I was so far gone they could have pulled me in two and I would have been happy to be free from the pain.

He came into this word in a hurry, my blood pressured bottomed out, his heart rate was low and weak. My body was pulled apart and sewed back together again. I don’t remember the surgery, I just remember his cry, he had made it and was in his father’s arms. When I knew he was safe, I just drifted away. I was his mother and I had done my job.

The handsome birthday boy and his mother.

This sweet amazing young man entered the world on my birthday. He has been the most amazing gift I could ever have been given. Happy Birthday, my darling boy. Thank you for giving me the most wonderful gift of motherhood.

02/16/12

Mother Roar – Quitting Time

My children are in 7th, 5th and 2nd grade. Excellent spacing if I say so myself. I have had over a decade of glue sticks and safety scissors. A decade of perfect valentine’s and hand-made teacher gifts.

As a new Mom a lot was out of my control. Life is out of your control as a Mom, I think we all realized that quickly. We moved to Washington State when my oldest was a year and a half. Washintonians are a crafty bunch and I was soon pulled into the cult of scrapbooking and handmade card making. I’m not going to lie, I loved it. I could control how my child’s scrapbook looked. Make it pretty and perfect. It was bliss. And there was another bonus. These ladies served wine and had weekend crafting retreats. What Mom doesn’t love a night out drinking and making pretty things? So yes, I consider myself rather craft and enjoy make pretty things. I am not ashamed to admit, I am the over the top birthday Mom. Don’t judge, just sit back and enjoy the pretty if you come to one of my parties.

My school crafting requirements have slowed quite a bit since we moved to Connecticut. They don’t really like the parents in the classroom here. The first year I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I remember asking a friend, “You mean they have an aide for each grade and they do reader’s workshop?” Oh the strange transition to a well-funded school system, it was overwhelming. As you can imagine the few spots available to parents for volunteering are quite coveted. I would even say there is some good old fashion competition on Parent’s night. Polite smiles, a little shoving, speedy pens (so they can’t be erased) taking the prime volunteer spots.

This year I worked my way onto the Valentine’s Day Party craft committee, now that is a story I won’t share. We had a committee of five moms for twenty-three students. Nine adults in all if you count the teacher, student teacher and aides. NINE adults and twenty-three students. I figured we have this in the bag. NINE adults, what could go wrong. Well, a lot can go wrong. Children in school on a holiday can only be described as caged animals. No one can sit still. They are excited to see what Susie or Johnny gave them for Valentine’s. They probably started the day with a breakfast of chocolate. I am also confident their Mom’s sent in jumbo pack of the most sugared up treat in their arsenal.

I stood in front of the class while all the other Moms took a table of feral beasts and we started.
“Mrs. D what do I do with this paper?”
“Mrs. D can you check to see if my legs are perfect?”
“Mrs. D I am confused”
“Mrs. D why do I have all these little pieces of paper?”
“What are we trying to make?”
“This doesn’t look like a FROG!”

There was sweating, quiet weeping and at one point I think I yelled “It’s called artistic expression people GO WITH IT!”. These children are in 2nd grade. They looked at me with their knowing look. This group of small people had pushed one more Mom over the edge. It was there and then I realized this was it. I was done with being the craft Mom. I had done my time.

Our little crafts were intended to look like these cute little froggies:

Frogtastic

This is what my sweet second grader created:

Zombie Frog - What's not to LOVE

I tallied up the hours. One hour had been spent at the craft store buying the perfect heartastic papers. Over three hours were spent cutting 23 sets of eyes, frog legs and heart bodies. My excitement at being craft Mom was still intact. I spent a short half an hour in the belly of the beast with these sweet children and it broke me.

When I got home I posted my decision to Facebook, because lord knows FB will hold me accountable.

It's on the Internets so it's forever.

One of the other craft Mom’s left me flowers as a Thank You for my frogtatstic effort. She is sort of awesome. I was happy we shared that half an hour of ugly. I am sure it’s right up there with war veterans, we will always be bonded over the frog debacle.

So today I proudly tell you, “I QUIT” as craft Mom. Not to worry, I am still a crafty bitch, that will never change. I have just decided to pass the baton to these new mothers who are just starting their decade of glue sticks and glitter. I wish them luck.

02/9/12

Mother Roar – My Kids Will Need Therapy

I live in a wealthy town. A VERY wealthy town. Not gonna lie about that fact since it’s easy enough for all of you to find. I live in a town where all children are exceptional, will be Varsity athletes and have a perfect grade point average. My little hamlet has kids scheduled every minute and their helicopter parents help them with their science projects because they are tired from 7pm basketball practice. Yes, I live in the “perfect” town.

As you all know, because I data dump here weekly, I have a child with learning disabilities. I also have an amazing tutor to help all three of my children because I am NOT a teacher. I am their mother. My sister is a teacher, an exceptional teacher. I am well aware I will NEVER be a teacher, but I am a pretty good Mom so I have a tutor. It’s one of the best things I have done as a parent, hands down. Our tutor, who my kids adore and I would be lost without, is a very sage woman. She’s a grandmother. She works in the school system. She has seen it all. This past year she shared an article about the current problem in parenting, Perfect Parenting. Take a read HERE. Basically this article indicates that by being the “Perfect Parent”, doing it all for our kids, they don’t know how to handle adversity. Guess what happens when you don’t let your kids fail and fall? They end up in therapy because their life is “Perfect”. I kid you not. This article was written by a Mom and therapist and her current patients are in her chair because they are unsatisfied with their perfect husbands/wives, jobs, homes and lives.

That darn tutor is a sly one. She knows me very well, she loves my kids and I wasn’t doing them any favors. So beginning this year I backed off as the homework Nazi. They still have a tutor twice a week (and by “they” it’s mostly my oldest) but I don’t sit with them every night anymore. I don’t harass them anymore about finishing their homework or making it “perfect”. It was their turn to fall and figure this crap out. I stepped back and guess what, those three little urchins have figured it out. They have also failed and realized if you don’t do the work you will fall on your face. They are learning the concept of consequences. It has not been pretty, there have been tears and those kids are unhappy too but it was the right thing to do.

I am not perfect. I still have the “kids in therapy” jar which I deposit a quarter each time I swear like a trucker. They will have plenty of coin for therapy later. Hopefully, I will ruin them in the normal ways like being an embarrassment or being tough. I can deal with being that kind of Mom, but I don’t want to be the “perfect parent” anymore. Instead I want to create kids who will pick themselves back up when things get hard, know how to work through failure, take responsibility for their actions and learn in the process.

Making People is Super Hero Hard

Coastal Chick

Because the chick who said "life's a beach" never wore my flip flops

Category Archives: My Little Chicks

Back-to-School Training

Let’s Talk About Sex Over a Bowl of Fruity Pebbles

Becoming a Mother

Mother Roar – Quitting Time

Mother Roar – My Kids Will Need Therapy