On Being a Parent

I think that every parent, upon discovering that they will be a parent, should receive a manual emblazoned with the words Don't Panic a la The Hitchhikers' Guide.  The subtitle of which should be Be Prepared to Be Judged By EVERYONE. 

And it's true.  As a parent, you are judged about every decision from conception on and by many people regardless of their relation to you, their experience or their parental status.  All of a sudden, many people would have you believe, every decision you make is of vital, almost life-or-death importance and the wrong (as defined by that person) choice makes you a horrible parent.

It starts right away.  Did you gain too much or too little weight during pregnancy?  Did you eat only organic or lots of cheesy nachos?  Did you find out the gender of the baby?  Are you going to have a vaginal birth or c-section?  In the hospital or at home?  With an epidural or without?  Midwife or doctor?  Scheduled or unscheduled?  Induced or not induced?  Breast feed or bottle feed?  Circumcise or not?  Co-sleep or not?  Sleep schedule or cry it out?  Scheduled feedings or on-demand feedings?  To pump or not to pump?  Immunize or not immunize or delayed immunization?  Pierce ears or not?  Baby wrap or stroller?  Introduce solids at 4 months or 6 months or whenever an older child accidentally feeds the baby?  Milk or soy?  Jar or homemade baby food?  How old will the baby be when you leave him/her with a sitter?  Democrat or Republican?  No TV until the baby is 2 years old or start right off with Baby Einstein and Elmo?  And that is just the first year.  Just wait until you get to home school or public school?

In addition, probably before you have even given birth, people will start questioning you about the next baby.  How long are you going to wait to get pregnant again?  3 months or 3 years or adopt?

Many people, parents or not, have really strong opinions on at least one of the questions listed above.  I know I do on some of them.  But the reality is, there is no universal right or wrong answer to any of these questions.  There is a best answer for each parent/child combo and it is their job to figure that answer out for themselves.  For many of those questions, we have tried both options.  We all survived.  My kids are happy, bright little people.  I am still emotionally scarred from an unplanned all-natural childbirth, but I'll be just fine.  Eventually.

I am not pointing any fingers.  I have been guilty of judging others as well.  I did a lot more judging before I had children.  Having children has humbled me considerably.  I try to do my best not to judge but to provide sympathy, help and a hug whenever I can because, whatever else it is, being a parent is hard.  I really believe that most parents are doing their very best and I try to give them the support they need as I have been given support from others.  And when I catch myself judging other parents, I try to remind myself that there is no one perfect way to raise a wonderful adult and that their way is most likely as good for them and their children as mine is for me and mine.

Okay, I'll get off my soap box now.  Have a lovely Friday!

What the Flu Looks Like

We have the flu.  Swine or avian?  I have no idea.  I do know there has been no puking (yet) and I am very grateful for that.  And I do know that we are on the 3 day plan.  As in, every 3 days someone comes down with the flu.  Josh started us off last Thursday.  Ben joined him on Sunday.  Jason thought it looked like great fun and started getting sick Wednesday night.  Michael, ever in a hurry to be like Josh, got hit with it today. 

Michael was the trickiest to diagnose, however.  He spent much of the week informing me that he was sick and then rushing off to do things like taking flying leaps onto the couch or racing around the house like a madman.  I was still suspicious of his claims of illness this morning.  I even took him out to run errands with me.  When we came home, he curled up on the couch with Jason and Ben to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender and this is what I saw:

A couple of hours later, I saw this:

When he stopped his incessant noise making and remained still on the couch, I was convinced.

My Disease

I had an interesting conversation with my doctor a few weeks ago while trying to figure out the cause of some of my symptoms.  It went a little bit like this:

Me:  So, I tried going off of gluten for 4 weeks and I felt better.  What about Celiac's?
Doc:  Oh!  That is a GREAT idea!  I hadn't thought of that, but Celiac's Disease can do some weird things.  Let's do the test!

I really like my doctor and, for the most part, appreciate that he believes that paying attention to the body's symptoms is more important than test results.  In this case, however, I had been hoping for something more like this:

Me:  So, I tried going off of gluten for 4 weeks and I felt better.  What about Celiac's?

Doc:  That is totally inconclusive.  Anyone would feel better doing that.  There is no way that Celiac's can cause X symptoms.  

In any case, four business days later I found out I have Celiac's Disease.

I had already tried out the gluten free diet and assumed that doing it again would be pretty easy.  That has not been the case.  I was a complete grump the first week this time around.  I think that had mainly to do with the fact that this is now a permanent state of affairs so chocolate chip pumpkin bread and goldfish crackers aren't waiting for me in a few weeks.  It really hasn't been too bad.  Gluten free Peanut Butter cookies, Nutella and chocolate/caramel covered apples have smoothed the way.

But I might need a support group.

"Hi, I am Irene."

(Hi, Irene!)

"I am Irene and it has been 14 days and 10 hours since I have had gluten."

(Woot!  Woot!)

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

My kids are cute.  Dang cute.  And I hear that from other people frequently.  Sometimes that cuteness is really deceptive.  I mean, they are cute, but the cuteness masks any number of things.  Today, for instance, the cuteness masks grossness.  Boys are gross.  As a young girl, I always suspected it.  As a mother of boys it is proven to me daily.

Let's take a look at these cute boys.  These two are playing cowboys with kitchenware.

Ben is pretending to ride a horse while wearing the largest bowl we own on his head.  Periodically he tips his hat and yells "hee-ya!"  Cute, huh?

 Well, let's take a closer look, shall we?

This is Ben's cute little head.  The head that is still cute regardless of the haircut I gave him just a little bit ago.  This cute head is inside the puke bowl.  This is the bowl that I gave Josh yesterday when he thought he was going to puke during day one of the three-day fever.  Luckily, he hasn't actually puked in the bowl, but still...

Gross.

This is Ben's cute little mouth.  Out of his cute little mouth come cute little words like "Dada!" and "Do, Diedo, Do!"  This morning, this cute little mouth spent I don't know how much time licking his brothers shoes.  

Gross.

This is Ben's cute little nose.  His cute little pug nose.  The one he can even point to and say "nose."  Ben's latest trick is to stand in front of me or Jason and say "blow" and then blow his nose.  Blow.  Like what you do in a tissue.  But without the tissue.  And since he has a cold right now, he has a lot of material with which to work.  If you say the word "tissue" or actually get one and come after him, he screams "no no no NO!", laughs maniacally and runs away while blowing some more.

Gross.

I love my boys, but I definitely keep the Lysol handy.

The Powers That Be

Somewhere in my county there are people whose responsibility it is to make the decision about snow days.  I have spent a bit of time thinking about them this winter.

I think if making that decision were part of my job that I wouldn't tell my friends, family, co-workers, strangers on the street, spouse, or children.  Ever.  I think I would complain along with the most disgruntled of them and keep mum about my job.  Things get a little desperate around here after the first 3 or 4 snow days right after the Winter Break and a teacher work day or two.  Parents start worrying about school being extended until after the 4th of July and threatening to bring their children to school whether it is open or not.  One can smell the mutiny in the grocery lines (yes, we can definitely make it to the store most snow days) and anywhere two or more parents are found together.

Somewhere, probably encrypted and kept in a vault somewhere, are the county's criteria for a snow day.  I have heard lots of excuses for all the snow days we've had without appreciable snow:  Our county is really large. (Yes, but clearly not the largest.)  There are lots of rural roads.  (Again, lots of rural counties in this country.)  A bunch of kids on a school bus died years ago in the snow.  (Don't know about this, but it sounds kind of like a made-for-TV Lifetime movie storyline to me.)  Virginia doesn't get snow often so they aren't prepared for it.  (All evidence to the contrary since it has snowed every year for the 7 years we have lived here.)  I am sure that it all comes down to money.  It is probably cheaper for the county to have a bunch of snow days and maybe even have to add days at the end of the year, than to invest in whatever equipment or training is necessary to safely transport students in snowy conditions.

Whatever the criteria are, the people who make this decision adhere assiduously to them.  So much so that I don't think we have had a full week of school this year (calendar, not school).  So much so that the boys and I took a lovely walk into Old Town and to the library today in gorgeous weather on absolutely clear roads and sidewalks.

It takes guts sticking to those criteria time and time again regardless of how many snow days have already been called and regardless of how much the public complains.  I can respect that...

Unless tomorrow is another snow day.  Then I am going to have to go back to complaining.

Not the Sharpest Tools in the Shed

I really do think that my kids are bright.  However, some days they do their best to prove me wrong.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Michael was in the bathroom "brushing his teeth" while I was on the phone with a friend.  All of a sudden, he started crying that he had peed in his pants.  This is not a normal occurrence and upset him greatly.  I told him to take off his clothes and finish peeing in the potty and then get dressed.  Michael must have been really upset because the next thing he said rather frantically was, "I don't know where the pee is coming out!  Where is it coming out?"

Josh had swim class yesterday afternoon.  On the drive there, I was asking him about his day at school.  After telling me about the library and the book he was reading, he started telling me about his friend, Marshall.  He said, "Marshall lied to me.  I found out Marshall was lying when he told me he turns into a Bakugan at night."  My first though was, "Oh my goodness!  I wonder how long Josh thought that was the truth!"

Don't Try This At Home

ETA:  Jason has informed me that the hair cutting device I used is called electric clippers, not an electric razor.   

In our house, there are Mommy-jobs and there are Daddy-jobs.  That whole division of labor thing goes way, way back, I know.  For the most part, we can both do all the jobs.  Emphasis on for the most part.  Jason is a pretty self-sufficient person and father when he needs to be. 

Apparently, I am the one who needs help.

Long, long ago when Josh was under a year old, I used to cut his hair.  The second time I did it, the back was a little sort of completely heinously botched.  Jason's comment at the time was, "Well, at least his peer group can't talk yet so they can't mock him."  And with that single sentence, hair cutting became a Daddy-job.  In reality, Jason does a much better job.  What I struggled to do with a pair of scissors, he finishes nicely with an electric razor.  There isn't much variety in the buzz cuts the boys get, but they look good and are low maintenance.  And, luckily, we only haveboys. 

A month or so ago, Jason cut Josh and Michael's hair.  He lost steam before he got to Ben.  Ben takes a lot of steam.  Ben is a two person job and we all leave exhausted and covered in hair.  So, I can understand Jason putting that off.  And off.  And off.  And off.  Ben has been looking really shaggy.  It's the hair over his ears that drives me crazy.  He is clean, well-fed and generally happy but I feel that the hair practically covering his ears makes him look, well, a bit neglected.  Which, trust me, he isn't.  Child number three is most excellent at getting attention, food and cuddles.

Yesterday, in a fit of good wife-liness that I don't expect will last, I decided to spare Jason and cut Ben's hair myself.  By myself.  I have wondered for a while what all those single mothers/military wifes do without a husband/partner around to help out.  So, I thought I would just suck it up and do it myself.  I finally figured out what those single mothers do:  Like normal, sane people, they pay someone to cut their kids' hair.

It was a hack job.  I only missed 8 spots (that I have found so far).  The hair was everywhere.  Floor, clothes, sink, walls, me.  I gave him a toy and different bathroom items (brushes, combs, scrunchies) to play with - no good.  I had a chair in the bathroom for him to sit on - no good.  He started there.  And then ran and tried to hide in every corner he could to avoid me and my electric razor of, apparently, death.  I have never been so grateful for a tiny bathroom as when I had to chase him down in there and when I had to clean it up.  The entire time he chanted a chorus of "No, no, no!" and eventually brought out the big tears.  I hate those parenting moments that require me to be ruthless.  Since 1/3 of a head of cut hair is worse than shaggy hair, I had to keep going.

Before



After

In the end, Jason was very grateful and amused.  We are going to have to do some touch-up work soon.  Next time, I will sit on the chair with Ben on my lap while Jason cuts Ben's hair - the way it's supposed to be.

Adaptations

I have adapted some nursery rhymes for my kids' names.  Michael, who couldn't care less for nursery rhymes, suddenly became very enthusiastic and memorized his right away.


Michael
Michael Pichael
Pudding and pie
Kissed the girls
And made them cry!
When the boys
Came out to play
Michael Pichael
Ran away!

Ben
Run
Run
Run
As fast as you can!
You can't catch me!
I'm BenjaMIN!

Any ideas for Josh?