Showing More Maturity Than Most Adults I Know

Two nights ago, dinner was very frustrating for both Connor and me. I won't air our dirty laundry, but I walked away from dinner with a real appreciation for why people yell. Connor was pushing my buttons in every possible way, and although I didn't yell - I wanted to, badly. I have not felt that emotional surge of anger in a long time. It ended with me telling him an early bedtime was in order, which I later overturned after he agreed to behave as I asked.

Connor was angry, possibly embarrassed, and really struggling. But he also did not lose his cool, as he tried tactic after tactic to avert the issue at hand.

We don't often get mad at each other, but we were mad that night.

Last night though? Connor came to the dinner table and apologized - in front of the whole family - for the previous night. In doing so, Ed correctly commented later that night that Connor had shown more maturity than most adults muster. I thanked Connor for his apology. I told him I was glad we were going to have a better dinner. Mistakes happen. We move on.

And we did. Dinner bordered on delightful.

In the end, I think Connor just needed to push on me and find security in knowing I wasn't going to budge, and he learned the next day that I wasn't holding on to any of it.

Thank you again, Connor. It was a difficult situation and I'm glad it's behind us. You have wisdom beyond your years.

Love,
Mom

View from a parent of younger aged kids - My Niece and Her Sleepless Fake Baby

My oldest niece is taking a class in high school that involved her taking a baby doll home that attempts to simulate having an actual baby. It cries in the middle of the night, can be impossible to settle, has multiple needs that can be met- which the caretaker must guess at. Importantly (and unlike any real baby I know), it gets taken back to the teacher after one night. I have no idea if the exercise is mandatory or voluntary. I do know my sister and niece were awakened multiple times in the middle of the night, everyone is exhausted the night the 'baby' was at their house, and they agreed in the morning that nobody in their house ever wanted one of those things again.

Which of course made me ponder - is this even a remotely reasonable exercise?

No, is my conclusion.

The exercise operates on the assumption that teens are choosing to have babies, or are more careless about having protected sex than they otherwise would be if they knew how disruptive a baby is. Of course, we know that most teen pregnancies are not planned, and I'm betting money few teens decide to have protected sex or abstain from having sex because of a one night stand with a doll. To me, it seems a lot like an exercise in sleep deprivation with little to no benefit.

I told my sister I hoped her teen was not so tired the next day that she ended up having unprotected sex because she couldn't think straight.

I also wrote to my sister "Mark my words - if Helen brings one of those things home in her teen years, I'm sending a note back to the teacher letting her know we've discussed birth control and the "baby' is sleeping outside. This whole thing just sounds awful to me. I might also include a note to the teacher letting her know I have PTSD from a non-sleeping baby that was in my care."

And immediately, I recognized that statement as exactly what it was. A mom with a younger child who can't actually know what it's like to have a teen, saying something that would be forgotten as soon as the fake baby lands in her own home.

So I'm writing it down, just so my sister can make fun of me when I'm up all night with a fake baby!

Elaine

It Takes a Village

As the school year approaches, I've been thinking about how it's going to take a village to get through it. For the first time since Helen was born, my family will not have full-time, live-in childcare. It was time for a change, and with Helen and Connor both in full-day school (which ends at a shockingly late time - 3:45!) it seemed like full-time care just wasn't needed. (Yes, I already know that I will eat these words, and hire someone within a few weeks!)



The book 2 A.M. At the Cat's Pajamas highlights this theme. A nine year old's mother is dead before the book begins, and her father has sunk into depression. So the neighborhood ladies get her through the day chronicled in the book. Now, I'm grateful that I'm unlikely to need the kind of aid that these women provide throughout the day, but I may need occasional help picking a child or two up at school, caring for a child or two while I rush home from a meeting, or helping ferry Connor and Helen to school if Ed and I both have to be to work before school starts.



And then, of course, there's the after-school practices. Finally, Connor is at the age where it seems fine to drop Connor off if Helen needs me elsewhere (though a shocking number of parents sit through each practice and game). I'm happy to be there for other children on the team as well, while another parent runs an errand, takes a call, cooks dinner, or tends to something else. Most of the team has been playing together for at least three years at this point.



The book, though covering only a brief period, clips right along at a fast pace - which I'm sure the school year will do as well. Or at least I hope it does. I can't take another year like last year, which has truly left me numb towards school.



Elaine



This post was inspired by 2 A.M. At The Cat’s Pajamas by Marie-Helene Bertino, a novel about hope, love, and music in snow covered streets of Philadelphia. Join From Left to Write on August 28 we discuss 2 A.M. At The Cat’s Pajamas. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Are you happy?

Before I part ways with my children each morning, the thing I really want to know is "are you happy"? Because school days can be long and time away from parents can be difficult, and the thought of climbing uphill all day just saddens me.


But it occurs to me that sometimes, we aren't supposed to be happy. Sometimes, we're supposed to be contemplative, angry at ourselves, or even sad.


Parenting has not been easy these past few weeks. Connor has developed an awful habit of lying. He typically lies to explain why he didn't do something that was expected of him. The lies aren't intended to harm anyone, they're just intended to save himself.


On top of that, Connor wants to spend every waking moment reading Garfield or Star Wars and playing on his iPad. I understand that. These things are fun. He's willing to do the bare minimum at school just to get to quiet reading time where he can indulge in the books he loves. Occasionally, he'll schlip schlop through his work (as my mom would say) doing a poor job and then spend literally hours at school reading.


This annoys me greatly.


For starters, I think his teachers ought to be doing more to engage him. We've met about this on more than one occasion, I toss out ideas, they agree - and then unless I follow through, we're right back to where we started. At the last of these meetings, I asked that the teacher require him to write a book summary for each book he finishes. I figure he ought to at least get a little writing practice during the day (something he could benefit from), and there ought to be some cost associated with reading - to hopefully encourage him to stop sneaking so much reading time.


This lasted for about three weeks. And only when I demanded Connor show me the reports.


Connor's response? "There were no forms in the classroom." This, of course, is ridiculous. There are piles of forms to write summaries on - the kids can turn them in for extra tickets, which can be redeemed for things like sitting by a friend in class (something Connor always seems excited by).


And so I emailed the teacher, reminded her we had come to this agreement, and asked her to enforce it. She did. Once.


On the one hand, I don't blame her. If you have a child sitting quietly reading and a child unable to complete an assignment, you need to go to the child with the greater need. Engaging Connor just can't be the priority. But on the other hand, Connor is deserving of attention, too, and just because he's in need of something beyond the minimum doesn't mean his needs should be ignored.


Next up came a challenge to read books about nature. After reading the books, the child was required to fill out a summary, turn it into the library, and be entered to win an iPad or Kindle. Connor desperately wants an iPad upgrade. There are a few games he wants to play that won't work on his current operating system. But does Connor - a kid who loves to read - bother participating in the contest? No. I bugged him about it a few times, and then I told him his free time books were to be nature books.


The first book, which he laughed as he read the whole way through, went fine. (So it's not like I'm asking to read something he doesn't enjoy!) For book number 2, he opted to copy the summary from the back of the book to his worksheet - and then lied about doing this. See a pattern? We talked. He rewrote the summary.


Book three? Before he started to write the summary, I asked him what he had read that day. He knows he is supposed to be reading books about nature for the contest. He chose instead to read a Hardy Boys book during free time in the classroom. I was annoyed, to say the least.


And so I told him that although I had planned on upgrading his iPad, I was no longer planning on doing this since he couldn't even be bothered to read a handful of books to try and win one. This definitely caught his attention. As he muscled through writing the summary of book three, he got a bright idea. He popped his head up and told me that the reason he hadn't read a book about nature during class - even though he knew I had told him to do so - was because there were no books about nature.


I'm a sucker. I totally bought it. I told him I was glad there was a reason, and even though he could've brought one of the many books from home, I realized it was possible he simply forgot to do so. I told him I would reconsider purchasing him the new iPad. Until after Connor went to bed and Ed planted a seed of doubt in my mind about the truthfulness of the story.


So this morning, I asked Connor if he really tried to look for a book about nature, or if he had lied about that. He paused. He started to stammer. I explained to him I was asking because it was difficult for me to trust him after his previous lies. I told him I would walk him to school today and we could look at the books on the shelf together. And then after a little more backpedaling, Connor admitted that he had maybe glanced at the shelf for a book about nature, but hadn't really looked for one.


He's making me crazy. He wasn't particularly happy when he left for school today. I do feel badly about that. But I'm coming to realize that maybe he needs to feel bad about lying, bad about not following directions, bad about annoying me so much his tech upgrade is at risk.


Hopefully things will turn around soon.


Elaine

The Gingerbread House

Connor got it in his head that we were going to make a gingerbread house at Christmas. If we were at my parents' home, I probably would've hopped right onto this. But we were at Ed's parents' home, and I just didn't think I could handle the mess of four children between the ages of 6 and 8 digging into all that frosting and candy. It would surely turn a small project into a giant mess.

Connor was extremely persistent in his desire to build a house, so finally I told him "We'll build a small village when we get home! If we build the house here, we won't be able to enjoy it at our house since we can't easily transport it!". This, of course, is the oldest and stupidest parenting trick in the book. Talk a kid out of doing something you don't want to do today - by promising something even better / worse in the future!

He fell for it. They always do. Parents always hold out that this will turn from an even bigger parenting loss to a parenting win, hoping the kid forgets what they were begging to do. For the record, I cannot recall a single time this has worked in my favor. But I still have hope.

Santa did her part to make the building of the house as painless as possible. She brought Connor a gingerbread house building kit.

And guess what? When I finally did bust it out a few weeks ago (after Christmas had passed, but before Epiphany), Connor and Helen hardly made a mess. And...they decided to wait until NEXT YEAR to build that village, because then we can start early and really, really make a lot of houses.

Elaine

Space Shuttle Launch

Tonight, NASA is scheduled to launch LADEE to the moon. Ed reminded us about this at dinner tonight. Connor was nonplussed by the whole affair. As he put it, what's so exciting when we can't even see it?

After I removed the dagger that was piercing my heart, I noted that this shuttle was going to the MOON. It's leaving the EARTH.

Connor noted that people had already been on the moon, so what could be so exciting.

You know what's exciting, Connor?

That a long time ago, someone dared to dream about getting to the moon. And every time that dream comes true, it's amazing.

Every. Single. Time.

And you know what else makes this so exciting?

At a time when the world seems to be caving inward, and I sometimes stop and wonder where the humanity of everything has gone, I find hope in the knowledge that a whole team of people kept on working together on a project, focused on the moon.

To the moon and back, my love.

Elaine

Songs

There are many songs I have sung hundreds, if not thousands of times to my children. The songs were established when they were in utero, meant to bring comfort. For Connor, I couldn't stop singing "Baby Mine", my most favorite Disney song ever. It suits him perfectly. I also would sleepily intone Eddie from Ohio's "Hey Little Man" when I'd walk him around at night, wishing sleep would find my home. By the time Helen came around, I sang "You Are My Sunshine" and later, when I heard Red Molly sing "May I Suggest", I started to croon that, too.

A couple of days ago, I was not in a good place. Nothing seemed to be going right, and I was just sad. And then, what should I hear from the backseat but a request from Helen for each of these songs that have brought me comfort so many times. We sang them together. And by the end of our car ride, I felt much better.

Thanks, Helen. Sometimes you know what I need more than I do.

Love,
Mom