household behavior guidelines

Back in December, my son was diagnosed with ADHD.  Since then, I have been doing much research as to the sorts of behavior modification techniques we can use with him to improve his overall behavior and impulse control.  Alex has always had trouble staying on task.  He can easily forget to get dressed in the morning, or brush his teeth, or even eat breakfast.  I can remember a couple of occasions in preschool and kindergarten when he nearly left the house without his shoes.

As a parent, it is very frustrating to see that your child is having trouble just getting along.  It is hard to watch him flounder through completing tasks that a younger child should be able to accomplish on his own.  Wanting to help him manage his impulses and his distractibility, I sat down to read Dr. Sear's The ADHD Book. 

One of the things that really stood out to me was the use of behavior charts and rewards to encourage the development of routines.  This reminded me of Flylady's routines, sans rewards.  The idea is to get yourself so used to doing something that it becomes second-nature.  This was just what he needed.  If Alex didn't have to think about what he needed to do next, he couldn't necessarily be easily distracted from doing it.  If he was distracted, he would have a list to get him back on track. 

Alex has a list of things he must do everyday.  The list is divided into times of the day: morning routine, morning work, afternoon work, after dinner, and before bed.  For each task that he completes, he gets one point.  For schoolwork, he can receive up to three points, dependent upon his attitude in completing his assignments.  We have also added a "Getting Along With Others" task for each time period, for which he can earn up to three points.  Alex can also earn an additional five points for special household projects, such as picking up brush in the yard or doing another particularly difficult or trying chore.

Furthermore, we have added a section called "stopping at the hand."  Alex is quite argumentative.  Therefore, when he starts to argue and talk back, we have the option of putting up our hand like a stop sign.  If he stops right away, he earns a point.  However, if we must use the hand, he does not earn "getting along with others" points during that session.  Also, he can only earn six "stopping" points a day, so there's no playing the system.

What does he do with all these points?  Once Alex earns 25 points on his daily chart (which can take less than a day if he's good as gold), he can color in a rewards box on his rewards chart.  Every seventh or so rewards box contains a prize.  A few weeks ago, he redeemed his first prize for a movie night.  Other rewards include ice cream, going to the playground, pizza night, a sleepover (mid-way point) and, at the very end, a camcorder of his very own.

In this way, Alex is working towards a goal by improving his behavior.  It makes him more mindful of what he needs to do, places internal and external checks on his mouthiness, and rewards him for following his routines.  This is what's working for us right now.

Alex was so excited to earn his first movie night a few weeks ago, and it didn't cost us a dime.  He threw some blankets and pillows on the floor, cuddled down and watched Dog Gone, while snacking on popcorn.  Since then, he has also earned the opportunity to go out for ice cream.  Depending on the budget, this could be fulfilled by going to McDonald's for their dollar cone, or heading over to Maggie Moo's or Pino Gelato for a more elaborate treat. 

Creating goals for our children help them to mature and become more aware of their actions.  This is an important part of growing up.  However, for children who have challenges of various sorts, following a simple routine or chore chart can be difficult at best.  By giving them an age-appropriate system of rewards and goals, we provide our kids with the tools they need to learn to manage time, responsibilities, and desires.  How else will they grow into happy, functioning, thriving adults?


If you would like a copy of the behavior chart that I designed for Alex, please email me at TattieTats [at!] gmail [dot] com and I would be happy to share. 

beating the rain

I played laundry-roulette today and I semi-won.  Though the sky was overcast and rain was on its way, I was able to hang two loads of laundry out to dry today.  My son's clothes, however, had to be grabbed off the line while still wet when rain drops started to dot the back deck.

For the past couple of years, Alex has been responsible for hanging his clothes in his closet after I've washed them.  Many times, I have found a bunch of clean clothes tossed back into the dirty laundry pile.  After this happened again this past Sunday, I decided to switch up his punishment a bit.

Now, Alex has to do his laundry on his own, from start to finish.  He loads the washer, hangs the clothes on the line, brings them in, and hangs them in his closet.  I figure that he'll start taking better care of his clean clothes once he realizes the amount of time that goes into getting them clean.  It's worth a shot, I guess.

Photo Credit: D. Sharon Pruitt via Creative Commons

saying goodbye to the pacifier

Nearly two weeks ago, Katie gave up her pacifier for good.  It wasn't really her choice, but she did well with it regardless.  We simply took it away and told her that she was a big girl and that big girls don't need pacis.

The first night was kind of rough.  We let her sleep in our bed because we weren't sure how she'd do going back to sleep on her own if she woke up in the middle of the night.  That night, we laid in bed counting "stars" on the ceiling until she fell asleep.  We got to 76.  At first, Kate was very practical about the matter, claiming, "no stars in my house, Mommy, no stars."  Eventually, she relaxed and drifted off, though.

I will admit, our little Kate-cat was quite cranky the first week or so.  She was used to having her pacifiers whenever she wanted them.  But, now she doesn't even ask for them.  And, should she find one that we missed, she tells us that she found a "baby paci."

Surprisingly, Katie has stopped drooling incessantly (I didn't realize that was related to the pacifier) and, unsurprisingly, is talking much better.  She's really growing up!

derby day

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We're up early this morning because it is an important day in a Scouting household. Today is Derby Day, Pinewood Derby, that is. Little wooden cars will go flying down a wooden track, racing to the finish in just two short hours. Boys and their siblings will vie for the seats closest to the finish line, the better to judge the winners and the losers. Some kids will walk away with trophies. Most kids will not. This becomes an excellent teaching tool for parents and Leaders alike. You can't win them all.

I like the idea of the derby. I like the premise that elementary aged boys are given blocks of soft wood to shape into a car, attach wheels, and then race. I don't like the competitive spirit that goes into it. Now, don't get me wrong. I strongly feel that we shouldn't reward all the kids who participate in any given activity. There should certainly be winners and losers. Everyone should not go home with a trophy. However, the weeks leading up to the race can be stressful ones for parents.

The pressure to build the baddest, fastest, car on the block sends dads, and some moms, into a tizzy. From ordering special parts for their cars (guilty), to ordering professionally-made cars, to figuring out the perfect placement for the weights, the perfect shape for aerodynamics, and creating the smoothest possible axles, the derby can get a little extreme.

While we've gone over the top in years past, this year we opted out. Alex chose his design, though it certainly won't be the most aerodynamic car there. He had it cut out at the Pinewood Derby Workshop, hosted by our district. He brought it home and sanded it to his liking, and we pushed no further, even though the car is still rough and oddly-shaped. He chose his paint colors and design and painted the car on his own, with the exception of one oopsie-fix by me. We added the wheels just this morning.

Are we underachieving? Or, are we recognizing that this should be a fun event and placing less pressure on our son to get it right? He most likely won't win. He most likely won't even place. But, at least he hasn't spent months preparing for failure, as we have in previous years. At least his creativity shines through. I think he enjoyed making the car, as much as he could. He's not really a woodworker by heart.

So, the race begins soon. It will be an interesting morning, full of excitement. We'll go, we'll race, we'll leave. And, then we'll be done for another year.

I would post a picture of Alex's car, but I'm too comfy on the couch at the moment. Also, I don't have a lot of time for that right now. We leave in thirty minutes and I have yet to shower. Later, my friends. Later.

where we are

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Just about two months ago, Alex was "diagnosed" with ADHD. I use the term "diagnose" loosely because the conclusion was mainly based on a discussion between his doctor and me, as well as a couple of surveys filled out by both myself and his teacher. However, I do think the description was an accurate one.

I have recently been doing a lot of reading about his condition, and I firmly believe that his attention and hyperactivity levels are different from those of other children.  I have no doubt that he has trouble actually controlling himself at school, home, and extracurriculars, though he may want to do the right things.  I am learning that his sloppy handwriting, fibbing, emotional outbursts, high energy level, lack of apparent concentration on schoolwork and Scout lessons, moodiness, and intensity are directly related to the differences in his brain that are referred to as ADD or ADHD.

 As a treatment, Alex is currently taking Ritalin SR.  His dosage will increase tomorrow because the medication seems to be wearing off by the end of the school day.  While the pills have altered his behavior enough to begin seeing improvement in his Citizenship grades, as well as enabling him to stay in Spanish class, they appear to be ineffective in the afternoon hours, during chess, homework, and Scouting activities.  This continues to frustrate me, but I'm hoping we will find the right dosage and combination of pills to allow my son to perform to the best of his abilities.

I am also concerned about Alex's school performance.  Though he his excelling in History and Science, I worry about the basics that must be learned through rote memory.  The math, language skills, Spanish vocabulary, and handwriting are still at a low point. Though Alex isn't performing up to the standards of a typical fourth grader in his basic subjects (Reading Comprehension, Writing, and Math),  he continues to make high marks on his report card.

Alex has always been on the A/B Honor Roll.  He has always brought home very high marks.  This says something about the lowered standards of the Roanoke City School System.  How can a fourth grader who refuses to learn long division and has not yet memorized his times tables receive A's on his report card?  Why is he being passed along, with NO remediation?  At one point will he be so far in over his head, having never learned the basic skills as a youngster, that he begins to fail the more advanced classes he will undoubtedly take in middle and high school?  At one point will he be so frustrated with his lack of basic knowledge and reading comprehension abilities that he shuts down and chooses to take lesser courses out of fear of failing?  Or, will he attempt to drop out altogether, as do approximately 37% of Roanoke City students.

ADHD does not have to be a sentence to failure.  However, if I don't quickly find the right way to help my child enjoy learning, and excel at the troublesome subjects, he will surely be set up for a lifetime of underachievement.  I know there is a way he can learn this material.  I just need to find it.  And, I need to find the support for doing so.

As an aside, I must admit that the teacher Alex has right now has been the best teacher he has had at his school by far, but it still isn't enough.  He's not getting it.  And, because of his continued high grades, I fear he is slipping through the cracks.

how to be on time

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Recently I've been reading a lot of blogs about home organization, kid control, and how to be on time. Isn't that the way things seem to go every year? January rolls around and everyone is talking about dieting and weight loss, how to live a better life, and how to take control of the life you have.

I think lots of mommies have issues with herding the kids out the door so they can get where they need to be, when they need to be there.  At least, that's what I tell myself-- that it's not just me, that I'm not the only louse who can't seem to make it anywhere on time, let alone early.

Bloggers toss around ideas like laying out clothes, shoes, books, wallet, keys, lunches, etc, etc, etc the night before.  They say to set your alarm early, or let your clock run fast (mine does, it doesn't help).  Even more tout the virtues of five, three, and one minute warnings, potty breaks ten minutes before you have to load up the car, shoe baskets, entryway organizers, timers, and the works.  But, does all of that ever really make your mornings (or afternoons, or evenings) go any more smoothly?  Does it really help you get where you're going on time, without having your hair stand on end from the stress of it all?  Not for me, though I admittedly haven't ever followed one procedure long enough to notice a difference.  I'm just not a time-management type of girl.

The one thing that I have found that works without fail is this:

To arrive on time, go without the kids.

and I quote

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Fill in the blank: running errands with a two year old is like....

... nailing jello to a tree, using a
flip-flop for a hammer
Kristen

... herding cats
Misty

... trying to cross-stitch on a roller coaster
Brittany

... trying to tie down
an elephant with dental floss
Lea

... a disaster waiting to happen
Karen

I posted the above status update on Facebook a few weeks ago, after a particularly trying morning of jetting around with Katie.  The responses posted here were some of my favorites.  However, one mom did point out that it is nothing like running errands with all three of her closely spaced kids.  She's right.  At least Alex is in school part of the day.  Otherwise, I'd be certifiably insane.  Mothers who homeschool: How do you stand it?




*Photo Credits:
tree Some Rights Reserved by ethermoon via Flickr
Playful black kitty Some Rights Reserved by Tambako the Jaguar via Flickr
Maverick Some Rights Reserved by Intamin10 via Flickr
Getting ready for Pooram Some Rights Reserved by AgniMax via Flickr 
-3''§ [Lego Puke] ¶2¡//  Some Rights Reserved by goldenfeld via Flickr

beside myself

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Have you ever been so bored that you don't even want to do anything? Because you can't think of anything to do? You just want to do SOMETHING, but you don't want to put the effort into coming up with something to do? That's where I am right now.

The kids are causing a ruckus in the oldest one's bedroom, I hear a cap gun going off. The house could use a good cleaning, or even a modest one. The dogs are barking. Dinnertime is approaching. But, I want to DO something exciting and different. Or, just send everyone else out to do something, so I can have some quiet time and watch TV without being interrupted every five seconds.

Unrealistic? You betcha. A fantasy? Sure. Just rescue me already!

And, now a picture.  Just because she's cute.

comfy nights

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Last night, we converted Katie's crib into a day bed. I had been putting it off for some time because she is just now getting back into the habit of sleeping in her own bed every night. I couldn't imagine struggling to keep her in a bed from which she could easily escape.

I changed my mind, though, when I heard that a friend's child had climbed out of her crib and fallen, breaking her clavicle. How painful! Though the mother is at no way in fault, out of negligence or any such thing, I didn't want to risk that happening with Katie, who loves to climb anyway. So, the crib rail came down.

Katie was all giggles in her big girl bed.  "My bed is COMFY!" she would shout, jumping in and out.  The little princess also helped me make her bed with her all-new comforter set, given as a birthday present last October.  We had been saving it for just this occasion.  

Katie was eager to be put to bed and tucked in tight.  "Sleep tight, Mommy," she called out as she put her head on her bee pillow.  However, she didn't seem to want me to leave the room.  Giving in, I sat down beside her and decided to read a good night story.  What could be better than a fairy tale?

photo credit

Pulling out my nifty phone, I looked up Hansel and Gretel and began to read.  It was a story that I thought I remembered well from childhood.  You know, the one where the kids get lost in the woods and then snack on an old lady's house?  The witch catches them, holds them captive, and fattens them up for supper.  Then, just as she's about to roast one child, the other shoves the evil witch in her own oven.  Pretty simple little read, or so I thought.

I found myself skipping over the not-so-friendly parts of the story in horror.  Do you remember how the kids found their way into the forest?  This isn't a story about staying with your parents and avoiding strangers, folks.  The evil stepmother convinced their father to lead them out there and then leave the little buggers.  Child abandonment!  Oh my!  Not really a theme I want to reinforce to my daughter, whom I'm about to leave in her big girl bed for the very first time.  And the twist at the end, about how the stepmother dies after the witch bakes?  Could this be a subliminal message encouraging children to rise up against their parents?

And, what is it with the evil stepparents?  Did the Brothers Grimm have something against their mom?  Did they have an actual evil stepmother?  Were they using their storytelling as a form of release from their childhood horrors?  Or, were the stories more supposed to be antidotes as to why parents shouldn't remarry?  Think of the kids!

At any rate, though I have fond memories of fairy tales from my childhood, I think I'll spare my kids the dirty details.  Disney films may have some disturbing scenes, but can you imagine how much they must cut out to make the story mostly appropriate for children?  This is one case in which I'm all for censoring for the sake of the children.

shut it

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Looking down the hallway, into my son's room, I can see his dresser. There is something askew. There is always something askew.  It's not that I'm picky, I'm just particular.  I like certain things to be a certain way and, when they're not... well... I like them to be fixed.  Does that make me picky?  Especially in regards to a dresser?  Perhaps.

I should go take a picture of this, just to show you, but I can't.  I know that, if I go back into his room to inspect the seriousness of the issue, I will become agitated.  Then, I'll have to do something about it, rather than making Alex take care of the problem when he returns from school.  That's how much it bugs me.  The best solution, for the time,  is to just shut his door. 

What's the matter, you ask?  Let me tell you.  My son always leaves his dresser drawers hanging open.  Always.  Without fail.  This could be my biggest pet peeve, the thing that just irritates the shit out of me.  I mean, how hard is it to close a drawer?  Well, I guess it could be pretty damn hard when you've just shoved your clothes in there all willy-nilly.  Yes, I know... he's nine.  But, come on!  A simple push will do.  Daily, I find myself saying, "Alex go shut your drawers."  You would think he would get it by now.

And, yet, they're still left open.  To taunt me.  To say, "Come fix me." Really, I can't stand it.

Why does it bother me so much?  The rest of the room can be a complete mess, but that won't matter as much as those stupid drawers being left open.  Trust me, I know.  It isn't just his drawers, either.  All drawers in the house should be closed as soon as possible.  I suppose the reasoning is twofold.  First, I have a short little girl running around.  Certain drawer corners are just the right height to bonk her in the head.  Other drawers are tempting stair steps for her to climb.  Still other drawers contain things which the kids should not see.  All drawers in the house ought to be closed at all times.

Secondly, it just looks messy.  It looks lazy.  How hard is it to close the drawer?  How much time does it take?  Just do it, and then it is done!  Closed drawers are orderly, open ones are not.  Dressers were designed to hide all sorts of random crap, clothes included.  So, use them for their intended purpose and actually HIDE the stuff!  Tuck it away.  I don't want to see it.  For heaven's sake, just close the drawers, son, please.  Please!  I beg you.

it's cold out there!

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How cold is it?

It is so cold, the politicians have their hands in their own pockets! -- Johnny Carson

It is a cold, cold morning here. Our low of 10 set a record this morning, but the windchill is 8 below. Yikes! I'm trying to avoid going out today, but my son must be picked up from school and we're in need of groceries.

I'm a guest blogger over at Losing the Baby Weight today. One commenter wrote about how, as a teenager, her mother would warn her not to touch the thermostat.  What's funny is that my mom had this rule, too.  I wonder why?  I mean, obviously it had to do with the heating bill, but what else?  Is this a secret code for parents of teens?  As in, "if you touch the thermostat, I'll know, so imagine what other, more important things I find out about."  Or, is the thermostat a euphemism for a penis?  "Don't touch that boy's penis, or I'll KNOW!"

bwahahahahaha.

Yes, the evil laugh.  Because moms were just out to ruin our lives and make us cold back in those days.

Photo Credit: It's Cold!! by Mr. T in DC on Flickr via a Creative Commons Attribution-- No Derivatives license

attack of the killer chicken mcnugget

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My two year old daughter, Katie, has a unique skill. At least, I think it's unique. She can separate food in her mouth. Typically, she does this for pieces she doesn't like. For instance, she might spit out apple peel if eating an apple or coconut if eating a slice of Italian Creme Cake.  If there's a bit of something she doesn't like, she'll just spit it out.  That includes bits of Chicken McNuggets.  Thank goodness.

Last night, we returned home from visiting John's parents for the weekend.  We arrived around dinner time and so, after unloading everyone, my husband ran over to McDonald's for a quick bite to eat.  He brought home Chicken McNugget Happy Meals for the children and some burgers and fries for the two of us.

Now, before the comments start, yes I know that McDonald's isn't the healthiest dinner choice for my children.  Yes, I know that it is full of all types of bad stuff that I don't really want them eating.  Yes, I know I have railed against mothers who don't cook and mothers who hit the drive through every chance they get.  I've also admitted, many times, that I'm not the perfect mother.  So, sue me.

Anyway, after a two hour drive in semi-wintery weather with a fussy toddler, a cranky nine year old, and two dogs, I wasn't prepared to come home and cook.  The decision was made to eat the crazily-addictive food from McDonald's.

While we were eating, Katie ran over with a Chicken McNugget in one hand and something else in the other.  yes, yes, we were eating in the living room.  mother of the year, everyone.  Taking the small morsel from her, John quickly realized it was a bone, and that it had come out of her McDonald's Chicken McNugget Happy Meal.  Our two year old had found the bone by biting into her McDonald's Chicken McNugget.  Luckily for us, she had the ability and the desire to get the inch-long bone out of her mouth without swallowing it. 

 

A quick google search revealed that this is not a rare occurrence.   Bones are apparently found in McDonald's Chicken McNuggets fairly regularly.  Mistakes happen, but this is quite disturbing.  A bone of this size and shape could easily become lodged in a child's throat.  This is absolutely a choking hazard.  One does not bite into chicken nuggets expecting to find a bone.  

Until yesterday, I had considered nuggets to be a pretty decent go-to food when we were forced to eat on the go.  They are small, easy for kids to handle, and mostly mess-free.  However, I will think twice about letting my children eat McDonald's Chicken McNuggets on even the most rare occasion from here out. I only post this story as a plea to other parents to be on the lookout for this sort of thing.  I'm not calling for a boycott, or planning a lawsuit.  I only wish to bring attention to this hidden hazard lurking in chicken nuggets.  Most U.S. parents give their children fast food from time to time.  I would hate for a child to die due to an overlooked bone.

where do we go from here?

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I've had it. I'm at the end of my rope with Alex.  His behavior is effecting all aspects of life.  He refuses to behave at school, and he's equally atrocious at home.  I just don't know what to do with him anymore.

We're going to the doctor on Wednesday.  I've been struggling with the idea of having him tested for ADHD and whatnot since he started school so many years ago.  I thought it was just a behavior thing.  I thought that, if I were a better mother, I could avoid putting him on medication.  I thought that he needed different types of consequences, that I wasn't doing a good enough job at trying to control him.

I have come to realize, over the course of the last few weeks, that he is beyond control.  That no matter what punishment I utilize for his misbehavior, it will do no good.  That I need outside help.

I picked up the Vanderbilt form from the doctor's office yesterday.  Out of all the "symptoms" on there, that we have to rate on a scale of 0 (meaning never) to 3 (meaning very often), he received a 2 or 3 on all but a few questions.  That's for the parent form.  Maybe the teacher will have a better view of his actions.  But, I doubt it.

I suppose we're "lucky."  At age nine, he has never stayed away from home overnight, or run away, or stolen anything.  But, that's about it.  I even had to answer for the question about setting fires.  Though he has never succeeded, I did find burnt matches in his room about a year ago.  We camp a lot.  We have matches.  But, Alex knows better than to play with them.  At least, I thought he did.

At school, he is causing his teacher so many headaches.  Recently, she told me that she feels as if she is his prison warden.  I know how she feels.  Whenever her back is turned, Alex does something that is completely out of line.  From jumping out of his seat, to hitting other kids, to talking back or not turning in homework.  He is always in trouble.

There was a bright point over the summer when we received a letter that stated that, due to his reading scores, Alex had been chosen to participate in the Spanish program at school.  The other night, I received a phone call from his Spanish teacher.  If his behavior does not drastically improve over the course of the next week, my son will be kicked out of Spanish.  What an honor.

This misbehavior is carrying over into family life, too.  We can't do anything as a family, ever, because Alex is always being punished for something.  He has to sit aside during Scout meetings because, as his den leader, I cannot control him while tending to the other boys.  He violently argues with my husband and me.  He talks back.  He lies.  He cons us into thinking his done his homework, using elaborate plans.  He always has a bad attitude.

So, now we wait until our appointment with the pediatrician.  I no longer even have the heart to tell Alex to behave and have a good day when he gets out of the car in the mornings.  I know that it won't do any good.  I feel as if I am trapped with this disobedient child, someone I desperately love, but I do not know how to help.  I fear for my daughter, who has to see the struggles within our home, and I worry about the implications this will have on her development.  I long for a happy family.  That is my one, most desperate, Christmas wish.

**Photo Credit  Frayed by Perry French on flikr.

a sunday rant

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Oh. My. God. If I could just get five minutes of peace and quiet in the morning, I'd be happy. But, I think the only way to make that happen is to get up before everyone else. When Alex insists on getting up between 6:30 and 7 AM every day, including weekends, that seems to be darn near impossible. What can I say? I like to sleep.

This weekend, my husband has been kind enough to get up with the kids both mornings. I really appreciate the extra sleep. But, when I do finally roll out of bed around 8:30 or so, I am bombarded with questions, as if I had been away for days. Today, the kids woke me up by playing catch. Right outside the bedroom door. Throwing a ball. Or, maybe two balls, seeing from the evidence. What fun.

Groggily, I got up, walked down the hall, and around the corner to the kitchen. My plan was to fix a pot of coffee, so I might be a more pleasant person as the day wore on. Do you know what I found? A dog. That is, a dog standing in the middle of the kitchen table. Yes, on top of the table. WTF?

We need to go grocery shopping again today, though we just went yesterday.  Of course, I forgot to buy a couple of things on my mental list.  You would, too, if you only kept a mental list and had to take both kids and your husband shopping.  Distractions, anyone?  Also, I thought we had two more full boxes of cereal in the house, enough to last two weeks.  Upon getting up this morning, I discovered we had half of one.  I swear, my oldest kid would eat every last crumb in the house at one sitting, if given the chance.

photo by gmnonic, via a Creative Commons license

 What do you do?  How much should a nine year old eat?  Should I let him eat whenever he wants, as long as the food is healthy?  Or, should I attempt to moderate his intake?  He is a normal weight (seriously, not just normal for now, but completely normal).  If he says he's hungry, which he claims to be all the time, do I feed him?  Really, I feel like I wouldn't be able to keep any food in the house if I let him eat however much he wanted, whenever he wanted.  I have trouble keeping the snacks stocked now.

Fifty years ago, I bet parents didn't worry about this sort of thing.  But, with the rising obesity crisis, how can one not worry?  Even the so-called "healthy" snacks aren't as healthy as they used to be.  We have over-processed every last morsel of food.  Even when it appears to be whole, it has been sprayed with pesticides, chemicals, waxes, and other toxins.  The food that we eat is slowly killing us, and yet we always want to eat more.

Yesterday, my son's Cub Scout den went and raked leaves for a woman who's husband is terminally ill.  He has leukemia and was just readmitted to the hospital on Wednesday.  She is watching the love of her life die, and though she is a physician, she can do nothing for him.  One day, this will be us.  Not my family, per say, but all of us.  We are the fattest nation in the world, yet we are the most undernourished and chemically stressed.  How many of us will actually die of old age?  How many of us will pass due to something like cancer, caused by the carcinogens that we have so easily welcomed into our homes?

So, what do we do?  Do we ignore the risks and live the best lives that we possibly can?  Do we go to the other extreme and only buy organics. locally grown foods, and hormone-free meats?  Do we grow all our own fruits and vegetables, so that we know what is in or on them?  Do we raise chickens in our backyard? Will that even help?  There is cause to wonder.

photo by Darin Barry, via a creative commons license

how to survive a trip to Colonial Williamsburg

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Recently, my husband came home from work and informed me that he would soon have to go to Williamsburg, VA for a some sort of conference in which Karl Rove would be speaking. He was hoping I wouldn't be upset because he would have to bail on some plans that had been on our calendar for ages. Mad because of flaking out on plans for work? No, not me. Never. Mad because he was going to the very place I had mentioned hundreds of times and not taking the kids and me with him? Not quite angry, but very jealous. So, after sleeping on the idea (and thinking about it a lot), it was determined that we would get to go. The aforementioned plans that I had? Dropped like a hot potato in a crowded kitchen.  Colonial Williamsburg, here we come!

 

So, um, I was going to have to take the kids on the historic tour without my husband, because he did have to be somewhere that day.  And, Katie had an ear infection.  And, I had to pull Alex out of school to go so I felt like I had to make this trip super-educational.  And, my feet hurt after walking however many miles in 40 degree temperatures.  But, it was so worth it!  

We had a great time.  Really, we did.  It wasn't crowded (at all), we were able to just walk right into all the demonstrations we wanted to see, and most of the buildings were decorated for Christmas.  Alex stood in the jail cell that once held some of Blackbeard's pirates, Katie enjoyed gingerbread and a rousing lap around the courthouse green, and I drank hot chocolate.  LOTS of hot chocolate.  

And, while we were there, we learned a great deal.  Don't believe me?  Keep reading for the inside scoop on surviving a cold day in Colonial Williamsburg (which is in Virginia, for those of you who didn't pass elementary history).

1. Take the stroller and make your child ride in it!  Your back will thank you.  Just remember that you cannot take strollers into any of the buildings, except for the Visitors Center (they trick you at first, you see).  So, make sure you pack lots of treats to lure your child back into the seat after they've been lifted out for the upteenth time.  Also, if you pull a tired, desperate, sad face at some of the Colonists, they might let you take the stroller in anyway.  At the very least, they'll let you park it as close to the door as humanly possible and try to entertain your children while you listen to the spiel that only you are actually interested in.

2. Go in lots of stores and buildings.  Even the ones you aren't interested in!  Trust me, they have fires in there.  You'll be warm.  You'll be happy.  Ahhhhh...... 

This was taken outside the Mary Dickinson store, which sells lots of fabric and hats and aprons and girly stuff.  I saw a cute waistpocket with embroidered birds that would have been perfect for my clothespins... but not for $46.  They can live in a walmart bag for now.

3. Get a map and mark the bathrooms as soon as you arrive.  After drinking all that hot chocolate and apple cider, your children will thank you.  Also, do not, DO NOT, request that your child turn around for a picture while his is running off to find the bathroom.  He will not be happy.

 

4. Promptly show your kids what happens if they misbehave.  But, don't forget that a child can't get out of the stocks without some help.  Definitely don't walk away, expecting your son to follow you.  He won't.  If he's smart, he'll scream for help.  If he's lucky, you'll hear him.

5. Pose your kids beside some garbage and take a picture.  Don't worry, you won't look like a fool.  See those barrels?  They're trash cans.  See the shopkeeper in the background?  I annoyed him later in the day by ordering some cold hot cider.  I didn't KNOW it would be hot!  I'm surprised he didn't plant a "kick me" sign on my back after that one.

6. Learn some stuff from very knowledgeable tour guides.  This gentleman went on tangent after crazy tangent about Revolutionary history, which was incredibly fascinating.  (yes, really!).  The bonus: We were inside where it was warm.

7. Then, go meet some of the other awesome interpreters.  If you go in the down season, you'll have a chance to actually talk with them.  This guy was a really cool silversmith who spoke in modern-day slang while wearing a period costume.  The whole experience felt awfully Back To The Future-y for some reason.  Equally awesome was his pimp who stood on the street, ushering unsuspecting tourists into this incredibly entertaining demonstration.  Very, very cool and unexpected.

8.  Follow the signs.  Upon leaving the Magazine (where the Colonists housed their guns and other weapons), we saw a sign pointing around the corner to another place.  I can't remember the name of the demonstration or this gentleman, but I'm glad I followed Alex around the corner of the building.  This guy would have been part of the military, working to make bags and hats and things for the soldiers. Upon entering his shop, he immediately put Alex to work, soaking leather for shaping.  While most of the shopkeepers and demonstrators attempted to show how boys Alex's age would be in some sort of apprenticeship position by now (one store owner even offering to keep Alex in the cellar with his cats), this guy actually gave my boy a hands on experience.   Upon questioning about his costume, he also explained that the color of his lapel and cuffs, as well as the type of buttons on his coat, denoted his rank in the military.  Very, very interesting stuff.  

photo by ComputerGuy, via a Creative Commons license

9. Then, get lost in a maze.  Explore the gardens behind the Governor's Palace (you don't need the super ticket to go to the gardens).  If you look hard enough, you'll find this hedge maze.  If you get out of the maze and go around it's perimeter, you'll find the "Mount" from which this picture was taken.  Obviously, we didn't make our way all the way through so I had to rely on someone else's skills to share.

10.  See what you can and smile.  Know that, unless you have more than one day to spend here, you won't be able to see it all.  Enjoy the nuggets.  Take lots of pictures.  Live in the moment.  Cry "Huzzah!" and "Encore!" Especially if there's a particularly satisfying scene.

 

 The Magazine houses more than just guns.

 

too much is too much

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This weekend, my wonderful husband chose to be super helpful around the house. For that, I am very thankful. During his time off from work, he mulched the leaves, cleaned the gutters, watched the children so I could sleep after shopping all night, stayed home while I went out to the Star City Comedy Club with good friend, Jannine, got the Christmas decorations out of the attic and did the dishes. And, you know what? I didn't even ask him to do any many of these things. What a dear!

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The thing is, he hit a snag the last time he did the dishes.  The soap packet that had been put into the dishwasher for the previous run had not dissolved.  So, my handy husband decided he would add Dawn dishwashing detergent to the cup to get the job done.  I think he may have mentioned that we were also out of the Cascade packs.  I don't remember.  At any rate, he squirted a cupful of Dawn (the type you use to hand wash dishes) into the machine.  He turned it on.  A little while later, he went to get something from the kitchen and found a mess.  "Oh....." he groaned.  I asked what was the matter and he told me, "There are some bubbles on the floor."  Some bubbles?  A good quarter of the kitchen was covered in suds.  Oh my!  Deja vu, anyone?

For the second time in three months, I started to clean up a wet mess.  We bypassed the bath towel route this time because I didn't want to add to my backed-up laundry pile.  Instead, he grabbed the mop and I used the dust mop.  He would swing his tool across the sudsy floor, and I would push back, trying to keep the water and bubbles from spreading even further.  It felt like we were playing a gentle game of hockey, or participating in that weird-ass Olympic sport, curling.

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Eventually, we were able to get the floor mostly dry and we turned our attention to the dishwasher.  You see, when John walked into the kitchen, soap was pouring out of the front of the machine.  He promptly turned it off, to minimize the flooding, but we realized we would soon have to deal with the mess inside.  Opening the door, we found a wall of bubbles.  Slowly, but surely, we began to scoop them out until the were nearly gone.  When we had removed as much soap as possible, we turned on the dishwasher to let it finish the cycle.  Water continued to dribble out for much of that run, but now our machine is as good as new and cleaner than it has been in a very long time.

This whole ordeal got me to thinking (bad idea, I know!).  A lot of times, we think that if a little is good, then a lot is a whole lot better.  Like the little squirt of dawn turning into a good half cup being poured into the dishwasher.  We have a tendency to go for the overkill, especially with our children.

Christmas is coming.  I have a difficult time moderating how many gifts my kids receive.  I just love to give them things and there are so many toys and items on the market that they would love to have.  Once I get started buying presents, I find it so hard to stop.  But, is more really better when it comes to giving things to our kids?  Or, should they learn the life lessons that go along with disappointment and/or hard work?

While waiting in line to shop at Toys R Us on Thanksgiving night, I spoke with Jessica, a young mother of a two year old boy.  Her son will be receiving many things this Christmas, among them a 32" flat screen television.  Her reasoning?  He needs something to entertain him.  Feel free to roll your eyes.  Inwardly, I did, too.  My response, "My kids are getting an aquarium."  Jessica's mother, who was along for the ride, just about died laughing.

You see, over the years I have come to realize that the bigger and better presents aren't always the best.  If you get your two year old a giant tv, then what is there to look forward to as he grows up?  Hell, we don't even have a tv that big in my home.  When Alex was young, he was overly spoiled.  I couldn't wait to get him the next best thing for his "age."  However, I failed to realize that just because he was in the appropriate "age range," and I was able to buy the items, they weren't necessarily suitable playthings for his stage.

When you jump ahead and buy anything and everything for your children, they lose more than they gain.  The kids no longer become enthralled with the gifts they receive, they become spoiled, and they lose interest in their toys more quickly.  They don't learn the value of hard work with suitable rewards, nor do they experience the thrill of receiving something they have longed for. Things become disposable.  In general, items lose their value when they are given by the bucket load.  While a squirt of generosity is good, a cupful just creates a mess. 

How will you balance your desire to give it all with your children's need of moderation and value this season?  What are the top gifts on your list?  Will you go all out, or will you (attempt) to keep it simple and sane?

one busy week

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Okay, ladies and (a very few) gents... it's Thanksgiving Week. What will YOU be doing? If you're anything like me, you'll be:

Cleaning like a Mad Lady

Cooking Up a Storm

Keeping Up With Weekly Errands

Wiping Noses

Changing Diapers

Chasing the Dog

and

Losing Your Mind

Why?  Why do we do this to ourselves?  Oh, yes.  It is all in the name of tradition.  Our mothers did it, their mothers did it, so we should do it too.  Or, did they?  Did your mother and grandmother try to shuttle kids to a million and one different activities every.single.day while keeping the house, tending the garden, feeding the dog, and walking the husband?  No?  Hmmmm.

It's Thanksgiving week.  Let's be thankful for our blessings and our families without all the craziness.  Sure, mop your floor and bake your pies.  Make your house presentable.  But, trust me, no one is going to notice if there's a stain on the couch or the baseboards need painting.  Take a break and put your feet up once in a while.  Chill.  In the end, you'll be a happier mom with more relaxed guests.  And that, my friends, is something to be thankful for.

a battle of wills

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I'm writing this post at 1 PM on Friday, after two hours of trying to get my daughter to nap, after a morning of crying and temper tantrums because she woke up a little too early this morning and was ready for a nap by 9 AM.   She is currently in her crib, screaming at me.  "Mommy... Mommmmmmy," she cries.  Poor little dear.

This is where I'd normally insert a picture, but I'm not going in there to take one right now.  So, just use your imaginations.  Pink face, open mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks.  The pacifier had probably been thrown on the floor.  I'm sure she's standing.  So much for tucking her in.

Why is she having such a problem with her crib today?  That's my fault, primarily.  Kate hasn't napped in her crib in who-knows-how-long.  I never got into the habit of putting her down for naps when she was an infant.  Now she's two.

At naptime, she crawls into my bed and lays down with me.  Pats my boobies, though she hasn't nursed in more than a year.  Wiggles around a bit.  Demands Elmo.  An hour later, she's out.  I am, too. 

This is a problem on several fronts.  First, sometimes I forget to set my alarm to wake me up to pick my son up from school.  I've never overslept, but I'm always afraid I will.  Second, it keeps me from doing much-needed things at the house.  Like today, I have to blog install a car seat in the secondary car.  And, I have to do it before we leave to get Alex from school.  Third, well... I don't know.  It's just time for her to sleep in her crib for the few months of napping we may have left.

So, she cries.  It's killing me.  I want to go get her, but I won't.  I won't give in to the pressure.  If I do, her tantrums will multiply exponentially.  She's a smart one.  She'll learn what crying does to Mommy's heart.  Hell, she probably already knows. 

This is a good lesson for her... fall asleep on your own when it isn't dark out.  Give in to the sleepies.  Rest, relax, and allow your body to be refreshed.  Sleep dear child.

And, all is quiet.

one mean mommy

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I saw the depth of my son's love for animals yesterday.  I got a glimpse of his caring heart, his sensitivity, and his sadness when Mommy wouldn't help a poor, possibly hurt bird.

image source

We were walking around the neighborhood, selling popcorn, as all good Scouts do during the month of October.  One of the first houses we came across had a large, curving, red staircase out front, in lieu of a regular, flat walkway.  You see, the house was up on a hill.  As we were trudging up all those steps, we came across a small brown bird.  It was just sitting there on the walk, obviously alive, but not moving.  Unlike most birds, this one did not fly away when we approached it.  I quickly pushed Alex past, knowing that the bird was probably injured, but also realizing that there wasn't much we could do for it.

As we continued up the stairs, my son asked me why the bird was just sitting there.  I answered honestly, that it was probably hurt.  This answer, though honest, was harsh to my little boy.  His face fell and he wanted to know why we couldn't help it.  In my head, I was thinking, "Because it is just a bird."  I told him that we would likely have to pay a hefty vet bill if we should seek help for the little bird, and it would likely die anyway.  At that, Alex became very quiet.

Now, if I had been thinking properly, I could have called the local Wildlife Rescue organization and they may have come out to collect the bird.  However, it wasn't my home, the owners were obviously home (though they did not answer their door to buy popcorn-- the turds!), and I didn't want to hang around any longer than necessary.  Nor did I want to call a wildlife group to their doorstep to collect a bird.  However, as Alex lamented the possible death of the bird throughout the rest of the day, I realized I made the wrong decision.

This could have been an opportunity to teach a special kind of kindness to my son, but I let it pass by.  What if it had been a dog or a cat, instead of a bird?  Would I have helped it then?  Yes, more than likely.  But, I still think that one must exercise caution when handling unfamiliar animals.  The last thing I want to do is bring a disease into my home, either by the actual animal or it's germs.  I don't want to put my children in danger for the life of a bird. 

What would you have done?  Would you have made the phone call?  Would you have collected the animal and taken it home to try to save it?  Or, would you have attempted to turn it into a failed lesson about the cycle of life?  That all things must pass away?  What are your thoughts on the matter?

the early bird washes the trash

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Dear alarm clock, I hate you.  Hate is not a strong enough word for the loathing I feel every morning when you wake me.  My patience wears thin as you continually beep at me, urging me to leave my nice, warm bed.

Today started off wrong.  I can't stand that Alex has to be at school at 7:30 each morning and that I have to drive him there, across town.  Especially considering that a bus that goes to his school drives right past our house every morning, but the school system can't be bothered to pick him up.

7:30 would be understandable if the time change was to allow for a longer school day, but it isn't.  The powers that be just decided that elementary students work better at the crack of dawn, while their high school counterparts should be allowed to sleep the day away.  What about the parents?  I don't want to get up at 6 am any more than someone who is ten (or more) years younger.

Of course, I probably wouldn't agree with the school start time even if it was to accommodate more educational hours because the school system wastes a lot of the hours they do have.  Teaching kids to use Ipods?  Pish-posh!  Taking an hour a week to wash out juice pouches for recycling?  Even more unnecessary!  Come on, can't that be done in an after-school recycling club or something?  I mean, really!  They can't add 2 and 2, but they sure can wash trash.  Give me a break.

So, my morning got off to a bad start as I contemplated the real reason as to why I was getting up at the ass-crack of dawn even though I'm a stay at home mom and really shouldn't have to.  Snuggling is my thing.  Driving out in the cold rain to get my kid to school an hour and a half earlier than a decent start time is not.