The No TV Week Results

Our boys spent a week without TV, and a lovely week it was.  I expected there to be some change in the kids' behavior, but it was more significant than I had imagined.  We don't allow the kids to watch a lot of TV in the first place, so I'm surprised at the impact its removal had on the kids.

I told the boys up front about the plan and they were okay with it.  I explained that it wasn't punishment, but a chance to spend more time together.  Surprisingly, for the entire week, they never whined or begged for TV.  Oliver asked for it a couple of times, but then said, "Oh right, we're not having TV this week."  The absence of whining about wanting to watch TV and disagreements about what to watch was blissful. I think that by simply removing the temptation, the kids' attention naturally turned to other things.

I was ready with a few more activities than usual.  During the hour each day when they would have been watching TV, we made a giant valentine for Daddy, played with play dough, painted and made homemade pizza.  These are things we do anyway, but I was more intentional in planning our time. But what surprised me most was that it wasn't just the activity for "TV time" itself that changed; the boys played better together all week. Emory became really caught up in pretend play for the first time and we had deep sea divers, superheroes and villains running rampant in the halls.  I really enjoyed watching them play "Daddy and Baby".  Seeing your 2 year-old try to carry your 5 year-old around the house is pretty amusing.

I did have to give up that little time for myself that I usually get in the afternoons when the kids are watching TV.  This was a kind of hard and I really didn't get a whole lot done during the week.  But, the kids played so well together that I didn't feel too frazzled.  I think I was a more positive and patient with the boys than I normally am. We must have been feeding off each other's good energy.  Bill says that he could also see a difference in the kids when he came home from work - they were much less whiny and temperamental.

Well, we did let the kids have some TV time again this weekend.  Bill and I have both been sick with the most persistent cold ever, and we really did need the distraction.  Unhappily, as soon as the TV came back, the kids began whining for more when it was time to shut it off...

So, now we have to figure out what role we will allow the TV to have in our home from this point forward.  I think I am okay with the kids watching a little TV in the afternoon, provided the whining and fighting do not escalate again.  But, I also want to have lots of days without TV so that no one begins to rely on it again.  I don't have a problem eliminating it and I think the kids know that now.  All in all, it was a very worthwhile experiment and I feel a just little bit better about my parenting skills as a result.

TV Silence

I'd like to think that I always make sound parenting choices.  Wouldn't we all?  However, when I make a conscious effort to be more self-aware, I see some things I'm not too happy about.  The TV viewing habit of my kids is one of them.

I am not naive about evils of the almighty TV and I know what the research says.  I've seen it suck my kids in, slow their brain waves to a near vegetative state and spit them back out again cranky and wanting more.  It does not fit into the picture of what I want my kids' life to be like at home.  Don't misunderstand me, we do lots of good stuff together and the kids have the ability to entertain themselves, which I think is a highly underrated skill in children today, but I do feel like I rely on a little too much on TV.

It started out so well - a little bit of TV in the afternoon once nap/quiet time was done.  Just enough to provide a little peace for me and a treat for the kids.  But our little friends Super Why, Diego, Arthur and Elmo, are slowly creeping more and more into our days.  15 minutes here because Em is fussy and I need to make lunch, 20 minutes there because I really need to make a phone call.  Then there are the days when one of the kids or I am sick and TV is the easiest way to keep everyone calm and happy.

I know that its supposedly "educational" programming, but the nagging feeling that it has too much of a hold over my kids won't go away.  The more they watch, the more they want.  And now I'm seeing the kids squabble over who gets to pick the show or video.  Its cute when Emory says "watch something else, its too boring for me", but this isn't something I really want to hear.  Something that started out so innocently is making my kids less kind to each other and more demanding towards Bill and I.  TV should be a privilege, not a right, and I don't think that we are always reflecting that in our home.

So, I'm going stop shaking my head and feeling bad about my parenting skills, and pull the plug.  Starting today, the kids will be TV-free for a week.  I am curious to discover what changes this brings about for our family.  I suspect there will be more gained than just an end to TV-induced begging and whining.  I will have to be a little more present and prepared, but that is good for me too.

I'm off to see if the paints are dried up, search under the couch for missing puzzle pieces and make a fresh batch of playdough.  Hopefully we'll greet next weekend with a healthier outlook on TV.  Those cute cartoon faces aren't fooling me anymore.

A View from the Play Dough Tower

We waited nearly a decade before starting a family and it was a good choice for us.  It enabled me to stay home with the kids, and I think I was much more secure in my parenting choices than I would have been had I had my kids when I was younger.  Though now, with a 2 year-old in the house and my 36th birthday looming,  I wonder if I would be a little less tired and crabby if I were 25...

Regardless, my husband and I had many years to observe other families with small children and formulate distinct opinions about what parents should and should not do.  Of course, with about 16 years of higher education between the two of us, how could we help but be more enlightened?  Well, over the last five years we have developed an affinity for the taste of crow.

And so, I give you my list of all the things I said I would not do, but of course have done:
1.  "I will never drive a minivan"
We caved and purchased our van before Emory was even born.  The suicide doors on our Honda Element were not ideal for car seats.

2.  "I will not feed my children 'kid food', they will eat what we do"
At age two, when Oliver's favorite cuisine was Indian, we knew he would never be a picky eater.  Unfortunately, by the time he was three, his food faves had devolved to pasta, pb&j, and hotdogs (at least we bought nitrate-free).   

3. "We will never listen to kiddie music"
The only CD's in my car right now are kids' CD's.   I have become somewhat of a kids' music connoisseur and have discovered some awesome artists.  I admit that I frequently catch myself still listening to the kid stuff when they aren't in the car.

4. "I will not let our kids play with electronic toys"
Uh, that lasted maybe 6 months.  Not something we encourage, but simply unavoidable.

5.  "I will never use the TV as a babysitter"
I do monitor the TV pretty carefully, but come on, it works so well in a pinch.

6. "I will not yell at my kids"
No comment.

7. "I will never open a box or bag of food in the store before I have purchased it"
Its only happened a couple of times, honest.  Fussy children have a way of altering your sense of propriety.

8. "I will not subject friends/family to "talking" to my not-yet-verbal babies on the phone"
But he is just so cute, of course people want to "talk" to him, right?

9. "I will not wear "mom" clothes?"
I frequently throw a coat over my pj's and drive Oliver to school.  This would be fine, except I actually park and get out of my car to watch him walk in.  Fortunately my glasses disguise the pillow creases on my face.  I do, however, draw the line at "mom jeans".

10. "I will not lose myself as I raise my kids"
I think this is inevitable when you stay home, but I do have hope that I'll resurface someday!

So, there you have it.  My child-rearing ideals haven't necessarily changed, but I now understand the difference between theory and practice. Parenting has the uncanny ability to keep you honest!

Rising to the Occasion

I really, really don't like winter in Minnesota.  You would think that after living here for nearly a decade, I would have acclimated somewhat by now. But, my formative years as a California girl seem to have instilled in me a lifelong intolerance for cold.  I do enjoy watching the snow fall through the window as I sip on something warm and tromping around in a newly fallen snow, but the day to day ice and mess really get me down.  My feelings have only intensified as, with the addition of children to my life,  I must now wrangle little wriggling extremities into various fleeced items each and every time we leave the house.

Fortunately, we have had a really mild winter so far this year, which I am viewing as a sign from God that it is possible for me to continue living here.  Or, it could just be global warming...  Anyway, as I write, it is a balmy 46 degrees up here in MN.  This morning, I could not deprive my kids of the much needed time outside, so I bundled them up and sent them out into the backyard this morning.  I wasn't really planning to stay and play - I can watch them from the kitchen, so I thought I would just get some stuff done inside while they ran around.  The dirty patches of ice and snow that cover the shaded parts of our yard don't hold the same allure for me as for little boys I guess.  So, I headed out with wet hair to just to open the garage so they could get toys out.  But, after they were well-equipped and I turned to head inside, I saw that they needed just a little help getting started.

So, I ran inside to get a hat to cover my cold head...

Then I stood around a took a few pics with my iphone so that Daddy could see them out in the yard.  But, the kids seemed to need help filling their buckets with snow.

So, I ran inside to get a pair of light gloves.  No need for the heavy ones since I'd just be there a few minutes.

Then, we decided to make snow castles and I noticed my gloves were getting wet and my fingers were cold.

So, I ran inside to put my put my thicker fleece gloves on.

Then, our castles turned into towers and in order to get enough snow, I had to tromp around all over the yard and my shoes were getting wet.

So, I ran inside to put my boots on.

Then, I had the brilliant idea of making a snow pile at the bottom of our little slide so the kids could land in it.  This of course necessitated lots of snow scooping and collecting, and my fleece gloves were getting wet.

So, I ran inside to get my serious, waterproof snow gloves.

Then, we played snow soccer and little Emory couldn't run or kick in his bulky pants and boots, so I picked him up and used him like a foosball guy.  Our fun ended in a snow ball fight, initiated by me - I don't generally like these, but the snow was such a perfect consistency that I couldn't resist.

Before I knew it, 45 minutes were gone, and the kitchen was still a mess.  But, my boys were pink-cheeked and smiling, and Oliver said "see Mom, I told you playing in the snow was fun" and I knew I had made the right choice.

I am amazed at how my kids encourage me to get out of my comfort zone and do stuff I don't really think I want to do.  In the end, it turned out to be exactly what I needed.

Rush to Slow Down

Lazy days of  lounging around in jammies, pancakes whenever we felt like it and flip flops have given way to early mornings, hurried breakfasts and shoes and socks.  It has taken a couple of weeks to adjust to the new school schedule - hench the dearth of blog posts - but the dust is finally settling.  Oliver loves kindergarten and I am coming to terms with the fact that he will no longer allow me to come into his classroom with him in the morning (sniff sniff).  I find it odd though, that for all of the rigidity and rush in our days now, I have been forced to slow down.

For all of Emory's little life, he has shared everything with his brother.  Oliver was in preschool a few days a week, but between morning naps and errands, we rarely had time to kill.  Now we have 3 1/2 hours together every day. Shopping with Emory isn't really working right now, so that option is out.  Its been a long time since I have been home alone for hours with a toddler, and I forgot how taxing it is to be the sole entertainment for a little one.  The house is so quiet and Emory just clings to me.  We both miss our Oliver dearly.  As Emory said in the car as we drove away from school the other day, "need Oliver... miss Oliver...snuggle Oliver."

After a few days of feeling frustrated by my inability to do anything, even shower, without Oliver around to provide some distraction for his brother, I had a realization.  I finally have the chance to get to know my little Emory.  I'm a SAHM, of course I know my kids, but I have the chance to see who Emory is on his own.  He will be two in just a couple of weeks, and seeing him outside of his brother's shadow is amazing.  We have had some lovely walks, playtime and snuggles together.  While Oliver is obviously a more sophisticated conversationalist, I adore Emory's jumbled attemps at communication.  I am learning what he really likes to do and what he is uniquely good at.  We are taking a little music class together and its fun to see his budding musical talent (he can already match pitch!).

I still have to remind myself (frequently) to relax when I start feeling anxious about all of the things I'm not getting done, but its hard to find anything more worthwhile than the feel of a snuggly little guy on your lap and the smell of his curly blonde head tucked under your chin.

First Day

"Felt so nervous in the morning light,

Still Mom said it would be alright,
But I had  giant -sized butterflies on that first day..."


And mom told me, 'when you first came,
Into this world we felt the same.
We had giant-sized butterlies on that first day'...


Then she opened the back seat door,
And told me what butterflies are for.
That they were meant to fly;
They were meant to be your guide..."

- Justin Roberts (Giant-Sized Butterflies from his album Pop Fly)

A side-walk chalk message for our guy: Like a caterpillar coming out of a cocoon, today you get your wings.  Have a great first day of school!

To my Oliver on your very first day of school:

Today my heart is full of pride and happiness on this special day.  I hope that you will take with you the lessons we've tried to teach: be kind to others, be guided by your Christian faith, and make yourself proud.  While it may seem like you have had to do all the learning these last 5 years, you have been teaching me all the while.

Before you came along, I didn't know what it was like to be a mother. You have taught me that I have more capacity for love than I ever thought possible.  You helped me discover my own strength, tenacity and confidence.  Before you came along, the years slipped by me without much notice.  You have brought fullness to my days and helped me to rediscover the joy in simple things.  You have made me laugh and reminded me that humor is an essential part of life.  You have also made me cry - for joy, sorrow and frustration.  But, along with the tears has come an understanding that I must relish the highs and get through the lows.

Sweet boy, I also want you to know that although you are taking little steps toward becoming your own person, I will always be right behind you.  You have many years of school ahead of you and so much to learn, from your Dad and I, your teachers and the world around you.  Enjoy the road with all its twists and turns and never lose your spirit.  You are a joy to us; go out and share that joy with everyone!

With all my love,

Mom

Happy Hour

I remember a time in the distant past, when the words "happy hour"conjured up images of drinks and laughs with friends or colleagues.  A time to shake off the work woes of the day, kick off the weekend, or simply unwind.  Now the words have a significantly different meaning for me.

The new "happy hour" is the wedge of time between my children's bedtime and my own.  Yes, this is the beautiful time of my day when I relax, chat with my husband over a glass of wine and catch up on my reading.  Ouch, I think I fell asleep and hit my head on the keyboard!  And, reading what I just wrote, I must have been sleep-typing again.  The hours between the kids' bedtime and my own are more like a jumble of dishes, laundry, laying on the couch for a few minutes of mindless TV, and then forcing myself to get up and do stuff.  And of course the feelings of guilt that I am too tired to tidy the house so that I can wake with a lovely fresh start in the morning.

Well, I'm on a mission to bring a little of the happy back to that precious kid-free time of the day.  I have analyzed the situation and realized that I simply cannot keep up with the mess generated by the two, make that three (sorry honey) tornadic forces that I live with.  Could I better organize my time and plan my tasks in order to get everything done?  Possibly, but I've tried that, and I still end up exhausted and irritated.  It dawned on me a couple of days ago that I am sitting on a relatively untapped source of renewable energy...my children!  Yes, I have always known that chores are very important for building independence, giving children a sense of belonging within the family, developing a good work ethic, etc.  But, while I sporadically seek to involve my kids in the household work, I invariably revert to doing things myself because its faster, and frankly I'm better at it.  Well, no more!  Oliver is starting kindergarten next week, and I would be insulting his intelligence to assume that he can't take over some specific jobs around the house.

So, he and I sat down and created a chart for his tasks.  He will begin receiving a small allowance if he is able to manage his responsibilities without complaints or reminders.  He is very excited and is already making a plan for saving up enough quarters to buy something that he really wants.  You may be against the idea of an allowance or an allowance based on chores, but I figure it mirrors reality - you work, you get paid.  Yes, I do think that being part of a family and pitching in is what its really about, but he already understands that and is usually a willing helper.

Last night when I went to kiss Oliver goodnight, he said that he had a new plan for keeping his bed made.  He had just made it and was planning to sleep on top of his quilt so that he never had to make it again.  A little misguided, but he's trying!  He did a spectacular job of cleaning up his room before bed tonight - no "teamwork" required.  I hope that it sticks.

Even little Emory is getting in the game.  Like all toddlers, he loves to help out, but I am taking it one step further with him.  When he decides to empty out a cabinet, or throw his blocks across the room, despite his still adorable screams of "NO!", he is required to clean up his mess (with help) before leaving the room or moving on to the next thing.  This should make a huge difference in the amount of mess that is left in his wake.

The biggest challenge is sticking to the new plan, but with Oliver's dream of a new lego set and my dream of a leisurely glass of wine with my husband, we might just make it work.

Identity Crisis

We are having family pictures taken tomorrow at a beautiful location in the country.  Bill is a great photographer, but we suffer from the same problem as most families - we have thousands of pictures of our kids and about two of our family.  I put together cute matching outfits for the boys, cheesy maybe, but I am trying to take full advantage of the fact that they still like to dress alike.  Now I just needed to find something for me to wear.

Like most moms, I rarely have time to shop for clothes for myself.  And, when I do have time, there are a thousand other things I would rather be doing.  I have never been a fashionista, but I always used to enjoy shopping.  Now, when I go shopping I feel like a mole, poking its head up above ground, blinking at the sunlight, and looking around confusedly.  I'd like to think that since I've been staying home full-time, I haven't completely let myself go (I don't think I wear mom jeans...do I?), but I am clearly out of touch with the fashion world.

Tonight I had about an hour in between dinner and bedtime in which to sneak out and try to locate some kind of garment for my upper half that would not be hideous in pictures.  Pressed for time as I was, I ran to the closest option, Old Navy, down the street.  If those of you who know where I live are wondering why I didn't go to Target, I had already exhausted that possibility.  Anyway, into the mostly deserted Old Navy I went.  I looked around trying to get ideas, found a few things that might work, and headed to the dressing room.  While in there, I overheard the college age employees discussing their majors and future career plans (I am glad that they remain optimistic that they will actually be able to get jobs when they graduate), and I started feeling old.  For some reason I seem to hang onto the idea that I'm not too far out of college.  In reality, I remember the year Old Navy opened, and the cute little coeds were probably about Oliver's age at the time.

Feeling old and completely out of touch with the fashion world does not promote a lovely shopping experience.  I then discovered that the loose, flowing style of clothing, that apparently culture finds attractive now, is a little too close to maternity wear for my comfort.  Sure, the clothes probably look on me about how they'd look on anyone, but one must be mindful that if worn when you are out and about with two young kids, people may indeed be questioning if you are expecting a third.  I'd much rather be wearing something form fitting that leaves, in my case, less to the imagination.

What troubles me most is not current fashion trends, but the fact that, when I do go to shop for myself, I don't really even know what I like anymore.  In truth, I am more comfortable out and about with my kids, because for better or worse, they have come to define me.  This may just be a product of being in the trenches with little ones, but it does give me pause for thought.  I went to college, then grad school, then had a real job, and then dropped out of the work world to stay home.  Being a mom changes you, but I think that staying home changes you even more, especially if it wasn't always what you planned to do.  Its so easy to lose yourself along the way.

I did find something to wear for the pictures, and as I was checking out, watched the cashier next to me, flirt shamelessly with the young man she was helping.  He was returning home after finishing graduate school with a masters in counseling.  The girl thought this was "so cool" because she was going to major in some social work or something...  I just wanted to chime in "hey, I went to graduate school too!".  But, sidestepping the obvious embarrassment that this would have caused me, I simply paid for my sweater and went home to put my kids in bed.  Whether I like it or not, my identity right now is "mommy".  Maybe I could work on the fashion thing though...

One of the Boys

Before I had kids, I never really pictured myself with boys.  I have just one sister and so our house was female-dominated growing up.  We were so thrilled to have our first son, but I wasn't sure how I would do at mommying a boy.  Once the second came along, I was feeling pretty confident.  Now, most days, I just feel like one of the guys.  So, here's a list of things I've learned about life with little boys.

You know you're a mom with boys when:

1. By the time your son is about 2 1/2, you can accurately identify any construction or road building vehicle that you see.

2. If you're in a hurry to get somewhere, you always avoid walking near any area that might contain sticks or rocks.

3. You find rocks in pockets, in the washing machine, in the car, in your childs' room, in your room, etc.

4. You are so engrossed in building a track for cars or trains that you look up and discover that the kids got bored and left the room.

5. You can make a super hero costume out of an old t-shirt and socks.

6. You have actually made a joke about poop (or worse, laughed at one).

7.  You know that underpants on the head is always funny.

8.  You can tell the difference between an Autobot and a Decepticon.

9.  Your kid got hurt because you were playing too rough.

10.  You know that boys like to play with guns - it doesn't matter if you don't allow any in your house, a celery stick works just fine.

I have tons of fun with my little guys, but the best part of being a mom to boys is getting to be the most special lady in their lives. Well, for a few more years at least...

Embracing the Chaos

I grew up in a really, really clean house.  This was good in that it taught me the importance of order in the functioning of a household, but it also gave me some unrealistic expectations.  Try as I might, I just can't seem to keep things in our house like they were in mine growing up.  I'm sure this is a combination of the increasing complexity of our lives today, the fact that people simply have more stuff now (which is not a good thing, I realize) and the fact that I have two crazy little boys vs. the two comparatively docile girls my parents had.  Whatever the reason, I can't help but feel guilty that I just can't seem to make it work.  Its not too much fun to be unable to get everything done, and not satisfied until everything is done.  Yes, that does mean I'm never satisfied.  Like I said, not fun.

As much as I tell myself its important not to get too bogged down in the housework and just enjoy my kids, the nagging voice is always there that I need to be getting stuff done.  As I watch my kids though, I am beginning to understand that some of the good stuff in life lies in the messiness and chaos.  Yesterday, the kids and I were leaving the house and I stopped and took stock of the craziness around me -  little boys running through the backyard, picking up sticks and stones, looking at bugs, clambering into the car, scrambling into car seats and buckling harnesses, while Oliver talked incessantly and Emory jabbered away -  and I realized that this is it.  The busyness and energy of kids make everything disorderly, but each little moment is very full.  They  don't miss the chance to discover, explore and enjoy everything that they can.  Observing things like this helps me let go of a little of the stress I feel about maintaining order in our home.  If things in our lives are too structured, clean and organized, we miss out on some of the fun that messes create.

So, tonight when I made pumpkin pancakes - I love breakfast for dinner - I let Emory help as much as he wanted.  I always cook with the kids, but I'm not always very relaxed about the mess they make.  I let Emory explore the process how he wanted to (within reason, I did need the ingredients to mostly stay in the bowl) and he had a blast.  It only meant a couple of extra minutes of clean up for me and was totally worth it.

Going forward, I plan to make a conscious effort to better balance the benefits of chaos with the serenity of order.  We will all probably have a little more fun in the process.  Now to go mop the kitchen...

Bittersweet

Days like today make me feel so happy and kind of sad at the same time.  I have spent time today working on potty training with Emory (21 months) and reading with Oliver (5 years).  I am so proud of the new things my boys are learning to do, but I know that this also means that they are pulling away just a little more each day.

Before I had kids I didn't know what a bittersweet journey motherhood would be.  I imagined all of the stages they would go through, but didn't know the extent to which my own feelings, hopes and dreams would become entwined with theirs.  I didn't know how much they would delight and aggravate me at the same time.  I didn't know that I would be in danger of losing myself at times.  I didn't know that watching them grow up would be one of the happiest and hardest things I would ever experience.

Kids want to grow up and their parents, of course, want what's best for them.  We want them to become competent, independent people who contribute to society.  What I have come to realize about myself is that I am not really sad that they are growing up, I am sad that I am being left behind.  I love my role as a "mommy".  I love being the first person Emory wants to see when he wakes up and the last one he sees before he falls asleep.  I love being the one who makes every little scrape and bruise better and the excuse to act silly in public.  I know that my relationship with my kids will continue to evolve and grow in different ways, but my time to play superhero won't last forever.  I guess this is all the more reason to make the most of all those little moments along the way.

Hurry Up, For What?

A friend and I were talking the other day about how any time we leave the house with the kids, we always feel rushed.  It occurs to me that I have been in a hurry for the better part of the last 5 years.  I know that part of it is just the amount of extra stuff there is to plan for/pack with little kids.

Case in point, today I took the kids to a nearby park and wading pool to play with friends.  This is what it entailed:

- Getting everyone dressed in swimsuits (after hunting for Oliver's swim shirt)
- Packing three towels, water bottles and snacks, change of clothes, diaper, wipes and sunscreen
- Finding the pool toys and swimming ring (the one without the hole)
- Loading up in the van
- Going down the street to Target to buy swim diapers (they were out of Emory's size of course) and another swimming ring so that both kids would have one, thus preventing a major meltdown
- Driving back home because Target had no swimming rings and grabbing the one with the hole in hopes that it wouldn't deflate too quickly
- Meeting friends at the pool
- Putting on swim diaper and applying sunscreen
- And finally, swimming

All this for a casual playdate. As usual, this endeavor left me feeling rushed and frazzled, and for what?  If we had been late our friends would have understood, and Emory didn't even want to use his swimming ring, so why did I waste time on that?

The bottom line is, yes, outings with little kids take planning, and I can't avoid this (though there are no doubt ways I need to simplify the process).  But, I think I need to remember that any sense of anxiety I feel about being late is completely self-imposed.

I recently read somewhere that many women today are obsessed with being busy.  Somehow we have tied up our self-worth in how much we can get done and how many things we can do at once.  I wonder what impact this will have on our kids?

Something to think about...