I'm a stress eater. I believe that has already been established, at least once, in earlier posts. It must have been a super-stressful school year, because I have gained at least 10 pounds since last summer.
Wowza.
Dieting is tough for me. I give in too easily. I feel like I "deserve" to eat a large pizza, by myself, after looooong summer days when I spend more time acting more like a referee/waitress than a mother (although there is very little difference in those roles). Add to that a dessert and a wine cooler or two (I'm such a lightweight, ha!), multiply it by a few nights a week, and BAM! Pants no longer fit. Uninvited extra chins start appearing. Self-esteem plummets.
It's not a good situation. Not at all.
So, I decided to stop beating myself up over it. No more making excuses for my poor food choices, and procrastinating over just one more issue. (I'm so good at procrastination, though, especially when it gets me out of addressing a difficult issue. Like that one time, when I...just kidding. Little humor there.) In a very courageous moment (those don't typically pop up on Monday mornings, so I had to pounce!), I signed up for Weight Watchers...again. I've done it before, a few years ago, and lost a good amount of weight. I like this program because I can eat what my family is eating, and if I screw up and cheat a little bit every now and then, I feel like the program is more accepting of those faults. I'm not sure why I ever quit, except that I probably felt like I could do it on my own.
My beer gut will tell you otherwise.
I need to have that visual counter of my "points" to keep me on track. In just the first two days, I've realized that my poor diet is like that of a twelve year old boy: mostly junk, and mass quantities of it. Goodness, what a rude awakening. If nothing else, I need to change that and set a more positive example for my kids. What sense does it make, for me to tell them no candy before dinner as I'm slurping down a grande iced coffee drink (with whip & chocolate drizzle, of course!)?? If the byproduct of being a strong role model is weight loss, then bring it on.
I do have to be careful about the way in which I present my "diet". I don't like to use that word; I don't want my kids to think that it only has a negative connotation. Diets are typically only referred to by those who are overweight, and I don't want them to believe that my motives are vain. I absolutely want to look better, but it's more important to feel better and be healthy. I tell the kids that I need to make healthier choices, and they are good with that. They hear it enough, along with "Have you eaten a rainbow today?" or "How much water have you had today?" I realize now that I need to be asking these questions of myself, too. That's my goal.
We'll see what happens. I'm not going to deprive myself of "treats"; that is disastrous. I know this from experience, as I've tried the different cleanses and super strict diet plans. I end up sobbing about how hungry I am, my husband sends me to Chipotle, and it all ends right there at the bottom of a burrito wrapper. I'm confident that this time will be different; partly because I'm writing this, I'm going to post it all over the internet, and I will inevitably run in to someone who will ask me how WW is going. Hopefully, I'll be shopping for smaller-sized pants and not desperately digging my way through a banana split.
Banana splits have, like, twenty-some points in them. I will not have a banana split.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Day Camp!
I just dropped my baby girl off for her first day of Day Camp.
Ok, yes, I realize she's not a baby; far from it, in fact. She'll be seven next month! But, this nervous mama admits to taking more than one look back after leaving her at the picnic shelter this morning. Would she make new friends? Would she be able to open all the things in her lunch bag? Would she be ok in the pool later this afternoon without my direct supervision???
Deep breaths. She'll be fine. But what if she's not?? She's painfully shy, especially in this type of situation. She's not a strong swimmer. What if she gets teased for that? I should have kept her in weekly swim lessons (insert Mommy Guilt *here*).
Ugh. More deep breaths. She is a good girl. She makes friends easily because she doesn't buy in to the clique nonsense. The camp sold out its initial two week stint and added an extra week, so it obviously has a good reputation and is a good program. She'll love it. If nothing else, she should sleep well this week.
Right? Right.
My sweet girl puts up with a lot of crap. Being the younger sister to a brother with special needs, and the older sister to a very rambunctious little brother, she has her fair share of drama at home. She gets treated as the oldest child and is expected to set the example (yes, unfair, and unfortunately we never realize it until after the fact). She deserves to have a week away and have loads of fun. Exercise, fresh air, swimming time, new friends...I hope she gets it all and enjoys every second of it. But I'll still worry...every. single. second.
I keep flashing back to a few summers ago, when I took her to a local church for a week of Vacation Bible School. We are not members of that church, but I thought it would be a fun activity for her. Turns out, the poor thing sat in a little rocking chair every day, by herself, because she was so unhappy that I left her there. Of course, that's her memory of it; I'm certain that the staff of that VBS at least tried to engage her in some activities. At any rate, I now envision her sitting off by herself at this camp, waiting for 4pm to roll around so she can come home.
She'll be fine. What are the odds of that happening twice?
Bottom line: my little girlie is growing up, and fast. I need to realize that she can't always tag along at my side, nor will she want to. She deserves a break from her brothers. She'll have a great time.
I can't wait to hear her chatter on endlessly about her day...only 5 hours and 40 minutes to go...
Ok, yes, I realize she's not a baby; far from it, in fact. She'll be seven next month! But, this nervous mama admits to taking more than one look back after leaving her at the picnic shelter this morning. Would she make new friends? Would she be able to open all the things in her lunch bag? Would she be ok in the pool later this afternoon without my direct supervision???
Deep breaths. She'll be fine. But what if she's not?? She's painfully shy, especially in this type of situation. She's not a strong swimmer. What if she gets teased for that? I should have kept her in weekly swim lessons (insert Mommy Guilt *here*).
Ugh. More deep breaths. She is a good girl. She makes friends easily because she doesn't buy in to the clique nonsense. The camp sold out its initial two week stint and added an extra week, so it obviously has a good reputation and is a good program. She'll love it. If nothing else, she should sleep well this week.
Right? Right.
My sweet girl puts up with a lot of crap. Being the younger sister to a brother with special needs, and the older sister to a very rambunctious little brother, she has her fair share of drama at home. She gets treated as the oldest child and is expected to set the example (yes, unfair, and unfortunately we never realize it until after the fact). She deserves to have a week away and have loads of fun. Exercise, fresh air, swimming time, new friends...I hope she gets it all and enjoys every second of it. But I'll still worry...every. single. second.
I keep flashing back to a few summers ago, when I took her to a local church for a week of Vacation Bible School. We are not members of that church, but I thought it would be a fun activity for her. Turns out, the poor thing sat in a little rocking chair every day, by herself, because she was so unhappy that I left her there. Of course, that's her memory of it; I'm certain that the staff of that VBS at least tried to engage her in some activities. At any rate, I now envision her sitting off by herself at this camp, waiting for 4pm to roll around so she can come home.
She'll be fine. What are the odds of that happening twice?
Bottom line: my little girlie is growing up, and fast. I need to realize that she can't always tag along at my side, nor will she want to. She deserves a break from her brothers. She'll have a great time.
I can't wait to hear her chatter on endlessly about her day...only 5 hours and 40 minutes to go...
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Listen Up, Ladies...
Ok, ladies, let's chat. I know we all have experienced a very unpleasant phenomenon, at one time or another: pee on a public toilet seat. So, so gross. To be fair, I suppose men have experienced this, too, but I somehow don't think that it's as frequent an occurrence for them.
Just this past weekend, while at my kids' dance recital, I took advantage of an intermission to visit the ladies' room. After waiting in line, I finally got a chance to duck into a stall, only to find it speckled with urine. My eyes rolled back into my head, I grumbled for a few seconds, and I did what I normally do in this situation: made a heavy duty toilet paper mitt, wiped down the seat, then built a lovely tp nest on which to sit. Had I taken my purse to the restroom, I probably would have wiped the seat down with a Clorox cloth as well; but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, as I only had five minutes.
After my very bird-like nest building urges subsided, I began to wonder, as I do every time: who on earth pees all over a toilet seat and thinks it's ok to just stand up and leave?!? Ew, ew, ew. C'mon, ladies, you've all seen it. Perhaps you're guilty of it; it happens, whatever. But the real crime is leaving your mess for someone else to potentially sit in. (I'm dry heaving just thinking about it.) Would it really kill you to take a moment to check to make sure you're business actually made it to its intended destination? It's your urine. Be a woman, make a tp mitt like I do, and clean it up!
My most recent experience with this has also made me realize why ladies' rooms are constantly out of toilet paper. Apparently, I'm not the only one cleaning up toilet seats and building nests to sit on. If we would all agree to sit down when we visit the potty, as opposed to using the "hover technique" (which a lot of you need practice with, since you're constantly soaking the seat), we wouldn't need to fashion the tp mitt before sitting down. I would totally still build my nest, though, as I will do everything in my power to avoid coming in contact with fecal matter. (Dry heaving, again. This is not the blog I planned to write today.)
That brings me to a lovely nest-building anecdote, one worthy of being reenacted by Liz Lemon or Christine Campbell (if we could still enjoy new episodes of 30 Rock or The New Adventures of Old Christine). While I was pregnant with my third little duckling, I took the other two to our local water park for an afternoon of swimming. Being pregnant, and having to pee every three minutes, I obviously visited the restroom right when we arrived, to avoid having to drag a two- and four-year-old out of the water too soon. Yes, I built my nest. The restroom trip seemed pretty uneventful...until I got home.
Because the kids were so small, and we had season passes, we were only at the water park for a little over an hour. When we arrived home, I went to change out of my wet bathing suit, and to my absolute horror, found that my tp nest was still stuck to my backside. I had stood in the baby pool, for that long, with a giant wad of tp stuck to my ass and back of my legs...and nobody told me!! The hot, sticky weather had caused the tp to stick when I sat down, and I just assumed it went down with the flush. I could not have been more wrong. It hung out for the whole time we were there that day. Now, after almost five years, it's hilarious, but I was so mortified after it happened, and I couldn't believe that not one other mom in that pool had the nerve to tell me that I had toilet paper hanging out of my suit. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Lesson learned: when you build a tp nest, make sure it gets flushed. The next lesson learned: if you see a poor mom struggling with two small kids in a pool, and she has tp stuck to her ass, TELL HER. Same goes for boogers hanging out of noses, but that's another blog for another day.
Ladies, we need to look out for each other. We're all going through a lot of the same stuff, and if we can stop and help by (tactfully) pointing out something embarrassing that could be easily remedied, DO IT. If you can save the next user of a public restroom some frustration by wiping your own urine of the toilet seat, DO IT. It won't make the kids stop screaming, or take away the piles of laundry, or make the bills go away, but you'll be making someone else's day just that much better.
Thanks, in advance. xoxo
Just this past weekend, while at my kids' dance recital, I took advantage of an intermission to visit the ladies' room. After waiting in line, I finally got a chance to duck into a stall, only to find it speckled with urine. My eyes rolled back into my head, I grumbled for a few seconds, and I did what I normally do in this situation: made a heavy duty toilet paper mitt, wiped down the seat, then built a lovely tp nest on which to sit. Had I taken my purse to the restroom, I probably would have wiped the seat down with a Clorox cloth as well; but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, as I only had five minutes.
After my very bird-like nest building urges subsided, I began to wonder, as I do every time: who on earth pees all over a toilet seat and thinks it's ok to just stand up and leave?!? Ew, ew, ew. C'mon, ladies, you've all seen it. Perhaps you're guilty of it; it happens, whatever. But the real crime is leaving your mess for someone else to potentially sit in. (I'm dry heaving just thinking about it.) Would it really kill you to take a moment to check to make sure you're business actually made it to its intended destination? It's your urine. Be a woman, make a tp mitt like I do, and clean it up!
My most recent experience with this has also made me realize why ladies' rooms are constantly out of toilet paper. Apparently, I'm not the only one cleaning up toilet seats and building nests to sit on. If we would all agree to sit down when we visit the potty, as opposed to using the "hover technique" (which a lot of you need practice with, since you're constantly soaking the seat), we wouldn't need to fashion the tp mitt before sitting down. I would totally still build my nest, though, as I will do everything in my power to avoid coming in contact with fecal matter. (Dry heaving, again. This is not the blog I planned to write today.)
That brings me to a lovely nest-building anecdote, one worthy of being reenacted by Liz Lemon or Christine Campbell (if we could still enjoy new episodes of 30 Rock or The New Adventures of Old Christine). While I was pregnant with my third little duckling, I took the other two to our local water park for an afternoon of swimming. Being pregnant, and having to pee every three minutes, I obviously visited the restroom right when we arrived, to avoid having to drag a two- and four-year-old out of the water too soon. Yes, I built my nest. The restroom trip seemed pretty uneventful...until I got home.
Because the kids were so small, and we had season passes, we were only at the water park for a little over an hour. When we arrived home, I went to change out of my wet bathing suit, and to my absolute horror, found that my tp nest was still stuck to my backside. I had stood in the baby pool, for that long, with a giant wad of tp stuck to my ass and back of my legs...and nobody told me!! The hot, sticky weather had caused the tp to stick when I sat down, and I just assumed it went down with the flush. I could not have been more wrong. It hung out for the whole time we were there that day. Now, after almost five years, it's hilarious, but I was so mortified after it happened, and I couldn't believe that not one other mom in that pool had the nerve to tell me that I had toilet paper hanging out of my suit. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Lesson learned: when you build a tp nest, make sure it gets flushed. The next lesson learned: if you see a poor mom struggling with two small kids in a pool, and she has tp stuck to her ass, TELL HER. Same goes for boogers hanging out of noses, but that's another blog for another day.
Ladies, we need to look out for each other. We're all going through a lot of the same stuff, and if we can stop and help by (tactfully) pointing out something embarrassing that could be easily remedied, DO IT. If you can save the next user of a public restroom some frustration by wiping your own urine of the toilet seat, DO IT. It won't make the kids stop screaming, or take away the piles of laundry, or make the bills go away, but you'll be making someone else's day just that much better.
Thanks, in advance. xoxo
Monday, June 10, 2013
You Talk Too Much
**Please note: this is not the forum for a political debate. Feel free to disagree with me, or take offense to my sarcastic spin on a current event, but keep your comments to yourself. xoxo
So, with all the uproar over the NSA listening in to phone conversations, I find one thing very funny: people are STILL having conversations on their mobile phones, out in public, for the whole world to hear. You would think that if a person had their undies in such a bunch over who could be listening in to their business, they wouldn't continue to yammer on in front of anyone who crosses their path. Seriously. And it's not just one-sided conversations. For one thing, if you're waiting in line somewhere, chances are you have your phone turned way up so everyone can hear your chat buddy, therefore putting your entire discussion in jeopardy. I could be a spy, for all you know. Of course I'm not; I'm not that cool. But someone else could be. Or you could be. Wait, are you? Doesn't matter; I couldn't care less if I wanted to. If someone wants to listen to me bitch about the PTO or chatter on about my kids, fine by me.
Some people take it one (ridiculous) step further and put their phones on speaker, and then the whole freaking world can listen in to their phone calls. How obnoxious is that? If I'm out shopping, I certainly do not want to hear about whatever it is going on in your life. Get over yourself. That conversation is not so important that you can't wait until you can dedicate the use of one arm just for holding the phone to your ear.
I see post after post about the wire tapping incidents on Facebook, Twitter, in the newspaper; I hear about it on the radio. People are concerned, and with every right. I'm not denying that, or trying to make light of the issue at its core. Yet their concerns still don't stop people from blabbering on (and on and on...) in public forums, about every detail of their life. Do they think they have total control over who may be hearing/seeing all of it? I find the irony amusing.
When did the advancement of technology diminish the value of common courtesy? It is rude to clamor on endlessly on your phone in public. Am I wrong about that? I'm not saying that I don't do it, but I at least know that I'm at risk for being overheard. Nobody wants to hear your conversations, but they'll listen anyway (especially if it sounds like a juicy convo!), and then you'll go online and complain or make fun of the fact that you have no privacy? I don't understand it. So I'll poke fun at it.
It's what I do.
So, with all the uproar over the NSA listening in to phone conversations, I find one thing very funny: people are STILL having conversations on their mobile phones, out in public, for the whole world to hear. You would think that if a person had their undies in such a bunch over who could be listening in to their business, they wouldn't continue to yammer on in front of anyone who crosses their path. Seriously. And it's not just one-sided conversations. For one thing, if you're waiting in line somewhere, chances are you have your phone turned way up so everyone can hear your chat buddy, therefore putting your entire discussion in jeopardy. I could be a spy, for all you know. Of course I'm not; I'm not that cool. But someone else could be. Or you could be. Wait, are you? Doesn't matter; I couldn't care less if I wanted to. If someone wants to listen to me bitch about the PTO or chatter on about my kids, fine by me.
Some people take it one (ridiculous) step further and put their phones on speaker, and then the whole freaking world can listen in to their phone calls. How obnoxious is that? If I'm out shopping, I certainly do not want to hear about whatever it is going on in your life. Get over yourself. That conversation is not so important that you can't wait until you can dedicate the use of one arm just for holding the phone to your ear.
I see post after post about the wire tapping incidents on Facebook, Twitter, in the newspaper; I hear about it on the radio. People are concerned, and with every right. I'm not denying that, or trying to make light of the issue at its core. Yet their concerns still don't stop people from blabbering on (and on and on...) in public forums, about every detail of their life. Do they think they have total control over who may be hearing/seeing all of it? I find the irony amusing.
When did the advancement of technology diminish the value of common courtesy? It is rude to clamor on endlessly on your phone in public. Am I wrong about that? I'm not saying that I don't do it, but I at least know that I'm at risk for being overheard. Nobody wants to hear your conversations, but they'll listen anyway (especially if it sounds like a juicy convo!), and then you'll go online and complain or make fun of the fact that you have no privacy? I don't understand it. So I'll poke fun at it.
It's what I do.
Whirlwind Weekend
We survived Spring Concert 2013!
Wow, am I tired. And proud. Proud-tired is definitely one of my favorite kinds of tired.
All three of my kiddos took dance classes this year, so they all participated in the annual spring recital. My older kids were in a ballet/hip hop class, while the little one took a ballet class. That means three class performances, plus the ever-favorite Father/Daughter/Dude dance (when the kids are joined onstage by their dads for a super cute performance), which was performed in two shows, to bring us to five on-stage appearances, over two days, in addition to two nights of dress rehearsals. The little one also had a t-ball game on Saturday, before his dance performance.
Ok, not tired. Exhausted. And I didn't dance one step. I did, however, stay busy: drove everyone to every performance; kept track of costumes; acted as my daughter's makeup artist; secured seats for the performances; played the role of ever-supportive mother (while carefully tiptoeing that fine line of becoming a crazy "Dance Mom").
As chaotic as the weekend was, I wouldn't change it a bit. My boys were adorable in their dance debuts. My daughter glowed and made her dances seem effortless (this was her fourth recital, so she's an old pro now), all while looking years older than she really is. I love seeing them so excited about their dance classes. For my boys, it provides lessons in discipline, movement awareness, and physical activity. For my daughter, dance is another way to express her creative talents. She is already dreaming of the day she can join the "big girls" in the dance company. I better start saving my pennies now.
We've spent today trying to recover from our busy weekend; as we speak, my girlie girl is napping (she hasn't taken an afternoon nap in ages!), one of my boys is playing a reading game on his iPad, and the other is playing quietly with his dinosaurs. I'm totally taking advantage of the peace and quiet now, as I know that it will end all too soon.
In fact, no sooner than I typed that last sentence did my boys start battling over something in the other room. So much for "peace and quiet"...but at least I have some lovely dance pics to remind me of how sweet and cute they can be if they try... ;)
Friday, June 7, 2013
Friday Nights: Not What They Used to Be...
Blurg.
It's been a challenging day. Super busy, of course, because that's just life at this point. But, when the kids are screaming incessantly, one pees their pants, another poops their pants (then tries to hide it and only succeeds in smearing it on the carpet), I'm still doing laundry, and they're all up past 10pm...well, "challenging" takes on a whole new meaning.
I've been trying to live by the "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all..." philosophy, but after an evening like this, my brain is screaming "F@#% that noise! Complain, complain, complain. If we have to live it, everyone else should have to read it!!" (I know, I know, I totally can not pull that phrase off...ha!)
Fortunately for everyone, I'm going to stick to that philosophy (at least for now), tell my brain to shut up, and go play Candy Crush until I fall asleep. Tomorrow has to be a better day, right? And, if nothing else, I still got my daily blog entry posted. So there.
It's been a challenging day. Super busy, of course, because that's just life at this point. But, when the kids are screaming incessantly, one pees their pants, another poops their pants (then tries to hide it and only succeeds in smearing it on the carpet), I'm still doing laundry, and they're all up past 10pm...well, "challenging" takes on a whole new meaning.
I've been trying to live by the "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all..." philosophy, but after an evening like this, my brain is screaming "F@#% that noise! Complain, complain, complain. If we have to live it, everyone else should have to read it!!" (I know, I know, I totally can not pull that phrase off...ha!)
Fortunately for everyone, I'm going to stick to that philosophy (at least for now), tell my brain to shut up, and go play Candy Crush until I fall asleep. Tomorrow has to be a better day, right? And, if nothing else, I still got my daily blog entry posted. So there.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Working Girl
Get me: I'm bringing home the bacon.
Ok, I'm only bringing home some bacon, a few slices at best, but a paycheck is a paycheck.
I have been fortunate enough to do some contract work over the last few months; I never realized how much I enjoyed working in an office until I recently returned to one. Of course, it's much different now: I can work around the kids' schedule, and I don't have to go every day. I'm guessing that if I had to work a strict 8am-5pm shift every Monday-Friday, I'd be singing a different tune. For now, though, I'm just going to appreciate it.
I also love being able to financially contribute to our household. Don't get me wrong; if we put a price tag on all the tasks I do for the kids and house, it would be mind boggling. But, the harsh reality is that I don't receive a paycheck for those duties (unless you consider the money we save in daycare as "income"). I am positively giddy when I see an amount of money in our bank account that I earned and contributed. It seems like such a small thing, I'm sure, but when the house is constantly a wreck and the kids aren't listening, even $10 seems like a million. I succeeded in earning that, whereas I usually feel like I'm failing in one way or another with the kids and/or the house.
Today, being the second full day of the kids' summer break, I was especially excited to go to work. I love my kids to the moon and back, but I was totally ready to escape to the office for a while. My parents graciously agreed to watch the kids this afternoon; not only do the kids love spending time with them, but not having to pay for child care is always a bonus. I got to sit and work uninterrupted for several hours, then I was able to go with my hubby for a happy hour. I don't remember the last time we went for happy hour right after work! It was lovely.
Working outside of the house has definitely reminded me of how difficult it would be to juggle full time hours, plus all of the kids' activities, as well as all the household tasks. I know there are parents that do it, and I have complete admiration for them. Bravo!
I probably still have a couple more years before returning as a member of the full time workforce, and I need to appreciate the opportunity to stay home with the kids while they are still young. I'm sure that in several years I'll be wishing the opposite, so I will be more careful to not wish away this precious time.
I totally should have never used that bacon reference...now I totally want some bacon...
Ok, I'm only bringing home some bacon, a few slices at best, but a paycheck is a paycheck.
I have been fortunate enough to do some contract work over the last few months; I never realized how much I enjoyed working in an office until I recently returned to one. Of course, it's much different now: I can work around the kids' schedule, and I don't have to go every day. I'm guessing that if I had to work a strict 8am-5pm shift every Monday-Friday, I'd be singing a different tune. For now, though, I'm just going to appreciate it.
I also love being able to financially contribute to our household. Don't get me wrong; if we put a price tag on all the tasks I do for the kids and house, it would be mind boggling. But, the harsh reality is that I don't receive a paycheck for those duties (unless you consider the money we save in daycare as "income"). I am positively giddy when I see an amount of money in our bank account that I earned and contributed. It seems like such a small thing, I'm sure, but when the house is constantly a wreck and the kids aren't listening, even $10 seems like a million. I succeeded in earning that, whereas I usually feel like I'm failing in one way or another with the kids and/or the house.
Today, being the second full day of the kids' summer break, I was especially excited to go to work. I love my kids to the moon and back, but I was totally ready to escape to the office for a while. My parents graciously agreed to watch the kids this afternoon; not only do the kids love spending time with them, but not having to pay for child care is always a bonus. I got to sit and work uninterrupted for several hours, then I was able to go with my hubby for a happy hour. I don't remember the last time we went for happy hour right after work! It was lovely.
Working outside of the house has definitely reminded me of how difficult it would be to juggle full time hours, plus all of the kids' activities, as well as all the household tasks. I know there are parents that do it, and I have complete admiration for them. Bravo!
I probably still have a couple more years before returning as a member of the full time workforce, and I need to appreciate the opportunity to stay home with the kids while they are still young. I'm sure that in several years I'll be wishing the opposite, so I will be more careful to not wish away this precious time.
I totally should have never used that bacon reference...now I totally want some bacon...
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Dress Rehearsal: Round One
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How stinking cute is he?!?
Now that we've finished the End-of-School-Year Chaos, we can move on to End-of-Dance-Season Chaos. This entails two nights of dress rehearsals and two days of performances. That's a lot of dancing, yo.
Tonight, it was Andrew's turn to strut his stuff. He is the only boy in a class of four sweet kiddos; all the girls wear fluffy pink tutus and tiaras, and he totally rocks his black and silver costume. Being that they are all around four years old, this is probably their first experience on stage (this is the case with Andrew, at least). The class took the stage, all sparkly in the splendor of their costumes, and it kind of all fell apart from there. They all seemed to forget their dance routine, but they smiled and were so cute. They are sure to steal the show on Saturday!
Of course, after an afternoon at the park followed by dance, Andrew was beat after rehearsal. He climbed out of the car, told me with a slight hint of indignation that "sparkles are for girls", and quickly dug out his Star Wars figures. Apparently, he had more than his share of the spotlight this evening.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
So Long, School Year
I feel like I blinked, and we went from August to June.
The school year didn't seem to be moving so fast when we were in the moment; in fact, I thought it might never end. Overall, the kids had a good year, so I really have nothing to complain about, but now summer break is here and that presents a whole new set of issues.
Having a child with special needs definitely throws a wrench into the "lazy, carefree days of summer" theory. At least, it does for this family. My kiddo with Down syndrome needs a routine that he can count on, or he flips out. Tomorrow morning, he will undoubtedly wake up and want to get ready for school. "We have PE on Wednesdays," he'll say, and he'll ask me what the cafeteria will be serving for lunch. When I try to explain that there won't be school because now it's summer, he'll pout for a while, then come back a few minutes later and tell me that he needs his sneakers for PE because it's Wednesday. We'll do this for a couple of weeks, before he realizes that he's on a new schedule. It will be exhausting for both of us.
It is my goal to have a "summer schedule" in place by next week (Mondays will be library day, Tuesdays we'll go bowling, etc...something along those lines), but all of the short-term summer camps and programs that the kids will attend will not allow me to have a consistent schedule all summer. This will cause stress to my kiddo with Ds, which will in turn cause stress to the rest of us. And then, quicker than it seems right this second, it will be time to send them back to school, and after a couple weeks we'll finally be back in the swing of things. So, we're looking at about 12 weeks of unrest. Swell.
When school does resume, I'll have a third grader. Already. Didn't I just drop him off for his first day of preschool, like two minutes ago?? The scary thing is that I remember third grade. I loved it. I met several friends with whom I'm still in contact, so very many years later. That kind of freaks me out...he's just growing up too fast.
As much as I do dread summer break (if this puzzles you, please reread from the beginning...), I'm hoping all three of my kids have an enjoyable 10 weeks. Even though there is sure to be drama, I'm hopeful that there will be enough zoo trips, backyard water fights, picnics, bug chasing, fountain playing, bike riding, gardening, and other pint-sized shenanigans to make some nice memories for all of them.
Welcome, summer. For better or for worse.
The school year didn't seem to be moving so fast when we were in the moment; in fact, I thought it might never end. Overall, the kids had a good year, so I really have nothing to complain about, but now summer break is here and that presents a whole new set of issues.
Having a child with special needs definitely throws a wrench into the "lazy, carefree days of summer" theory. At least, it does for this family. My kiddo with Down syndrome needs a routine that he can count on, or he flips out. Tomorrow morning, he will undoubtedly wake up and want to get ready for school. "We have PE on Wednesdays," he'll say, and he'll ask me what the cafeteria will be serving for lunch. When I try to explain that there won't be school because now it's summer, he'll pout for a while, then come back a few minutes later and tell me that he needs his sneakers for PE because it's Wednesday. We'll do this for a couple of weeks, before he realizes that he's on a new schedule. It will be exhausting for both of us.
It is my goal to have a "summer schedule" in place by next week (Mondays will be library day, Tuesdays we'll go bowling, etc...something along those lines), but all of the short-term summer camps and programs that the kids will attend will not allow me to have a consistent schedule all summer. This will cause stress to my kiddo with Ds, which will in turn cause stress to the rest of us. And then, quicker than it seems right this second, it will be time to send them back to school, and after a couple weeks we'll finally be back in the swing of things. So, we're looking at about 12 weeks of unrest. Swell.
When school does resume, I'll have a third grader. Already. Didn't I just drop him off for his first day of preschool, like two minutes ago?? The scary thing is that I remember third grade. I loved it. I met several friends with whom I'm still in contact, so very many years later. That kind of freaks me out...he's just growing up too fast.
As much as I do dread summer break (if this puzzles you, please reread from the beginning...), I'm hoping all three of my kids have an enjoyable 10 weeks. Even though there is sure to be drama, I'm hopeful that there will be enough zoo trips, backyard water fights, picnics, bug chasing, fountain playing, bike riding, gardening, and other pint-sized shenanigans to make some nice memories for all of them.
Welcome, summer. For better or for worse.
Monday, June 3, 2013
MISSING: Three Sets of Listening Ears
What a freaking ridiculous day it's been.
Before I begin, I know I shouldn't complain about such trifle issues. Big picture: everything is grand. We are blessed to have three healthy children, a house, food on the table. I recognize that. However, I will now continue with my rant.
Seriously. The school year is not even finished yet, and I'm done. DONE. It's been a bad day. I need to regroup before that bell rings at 1:30 tomorrow, or we're all screwed.
My children have somehow forgotten how to listen and follow instructions. This is not just a random slip up, people...they are not listening to a single word I say. Not one! I ask them to pick up their stuff, then walk past it again a while later, and they claim I never asked them to do it. Or (and this is my all time favorite thing, ever!), they ask me a question, and I answer them, and then two seconds later they ask me the exact same question. Then, two seconds later, they ask it yet AGAIN. Is anyone else experiencing this phenomenon? End-of-School-Itis, perhaps? Whatever it is, it can go away, immediately.
After hours and hours of this today (with most of it coming from the little one, as the other two were at school and didn't return home until around 4pm), I snapped. I started sending kids to their rooms, with threats of not renewing water park passes for the summer. Ugh. I hate "that Mom". I'm sure the kids don't like her very much, either. But, when you have no helpers during the day, and it's one of "those" days, something's gotta give. Fortunately, my husband arrived home this evening before I started revoking birthday parties and library cards, and he is now supervising the kids in the backyard so I can vent...er, write.
Write, of course, in between the laundry, dishes, and school tasks that need to be finished before bedtime. It never ends, does it? I was just lugging a load of laundry up the stairs when I got intercepted by the little one (he's really on a roll today!). "Mom, I need a pair of socks. Can you get me some?" (he can't reach his sock drawer...) Of course, I impatiently replied, "You don't need socks. You're running around barefoot in the backyard. Wearing socks with no shoes would just be ridiculous."
As I struggled with the laundry, he eyed me carefully and shot back, "So...it seems like you're NOT going to get me the socks...", which was met with my left eyebrow rocketing off my face. He got the point and quickly retreated back outside.
Eh, well. Tomorrow is a new day, right? Perhaps the Listening Ear Fairy will deliver three fresh sets to my children as I sleep tonight. It's a long shot, I know, but I'm going with that.
Before I begin, I know I shouldn't complain about such trifle issues. Big picture: everything is grand. We are blessed to have three healthy children, a house, food on the table. I recognize that. However, I will now continue with my rant.
Seriously. The school year is not even finished yet, and I'm done. DONE. It's been a bad day. I need to regroup before that bell rings at 1:30 tomorrow, or we're all screwed.
My children have somehow forgotten how to listen and follow instructions. This is not just a random slip up, people...they are not listening to a single word I say. Not one! I ask them to pick up their stuff, then walk past it again a while later, and they claim I never asked them to do it. Or (and this is my all time favorite thing, ever!), they ask me a question, and I answer them, and then two seconds later they ask me the exact same question. Then, two seconds later, they ask it yet AGAIN. Is anyone else experiencing this phenomenon? End-of-School-Itis, perhaps? Whatever it is, it can go away, immediately.
After hours and hours of this today (with most of it coming from the little one, as the other two were at school and didn't return home until around 4pm), I snapped. I started sending kids to their rooms, with threats of not renewing water park passes for the summer. Ugh. I hate "that Mom". I'm sure the kids don't like her very much, either. But, when you have no helpers during the day, and it's one of "those" days, something's gotta give. Fortunately, my husband arrived home this evening before I started revoking birthday parties and library cards, and he is now supervising the kids in the backyard so I can vent...er, write.
Write, of course, in between the laundry, dishes, and school tasks that need to be finished before bedtime. It never ends, does it? I was just lugging a load of laundry up the stairs when I got intercepted by the little one (he's really on a roll today!). "Mom, I need a pair of socks. Can you get me some?" (he can't reach his sock drawer...) Of course, I impatiently replied, "You don't need socks. You're running around barefoot in the backyard. Wearing socks with no shoes would just be ridiculous."
As I struggled with the laundry, he eyed me carefully and shot back, "So...it seems like you're NOT going to get me the socks...", which was met with my left eyebrow rocketing off my face. He got the point and quickly retreated back outside.
Eh, well. Tomorrow is a new day, right? Perhaps the Listening Ear Fairy will deliver three fresh sets to my children as I sleep tonight. It's a long shot, I know, but I'm going with that.
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