Alone at Last

My mother took Cora out for a little shopping and lunch yesterday, and I found myself home with my youngest, Adelle. I cannot remember the last time I was home alone with Adelle, even if I strain the deepest recesses of my brain. It could be quite possible that I've never been home alone with her. That seems a bit unrealistic, but you never know.

Anyway... Adelle and I were having some valuable time together without any interruptions from an older sister who loves to be the center of attention. Sadly, I found myself wondering, "Who exactly is Adelle? What is this little girl like?"

I'm not saying I don't know my own children, because as parents, we all know our children better than anyone else. But Adelle has been so overshadowed by her bigger sister that I found myself sort of rediscovering this little toddler all over again. She's a people-pleaser even at 2 years of age. When Cora really wants a toy Adelle has (which is all the time), Adelle gives it to her willingly. I'm glad she shares, but I wish Adelle would stand up for herself more. I can see this trait turning into a self-destructing behavior for her as an adult, constantly putting her own needs on the back burner for the sake of somebody else.

We had an enjoyable afternoon together. I gave her some time exploring the computer mouse (she kept calling it a "mouth") which she clicked obsessively as if in a state of fury. Normally this kind of activity would have been interrupted by a big sister complaining to sit on my lap and check her "e-mail". How delightfully simple it was to play with Adelle without extraneous drama from an outside annoyance.

I don't mean to sound as if Cora is just a nuisance to the family and to Adelle. Cora can be a sweet girl and she's a good girl, almost always super well-behaved when it counts (doctor's offices, stores, restaurants, etc). But Cora definitely has a problem when her little sister is getting one-on-one attention and she's not. As a mother, I cannot let Adelle suffer simply because her sister is bossy, so now I need to work out a plan to get Adelle the same interactions with me that Cora had the privilege to enjoy uninterrupted at that age -- without making Cora feel unwanted, unworthy or stifled.

I could say raising kids is a juggling act, but I don't think that would do the job justice. Even I can juggle a little if the objects are the same size and generally round (believe it or not, juggling was considered a gym activity in school on an Air Force base in 1990). Raising kids is much more complicated and intricate than that... managing the personality of one child depending on the time of day, amount of sleep she's had, amount of sleep I've had and the hunger factor, just to name a few. Combine that with managing another child's personality with the same variables, and it can be an unstable chemical reaction.

Kaboom!

Those Swedes are Geniuses

My husband and I were in Chicago last week and took a side-trip to Ikea up in Schaumburg, IL. I had been there once before several years ago before I had kids, but since I've had kids, Ikea was like a whole new store for me.

Their kid's section was just plain awesome. They had so many nifty ideas for organizing, their wooden toys were cute and I LOVED their little table and chairs for kids to sit at. After analyzing, measuring, re-measuring, and engineering a table my husband could build, we ended up buying 3 toy organizers, one for each of the girls' rooms and one for the play room. In addition, we bought 3 laminate tabletops my husband was going to build into a table to slide over the toy organizer (so the kids could sit and do crafts, color, etc.) A couple of Christmas gifts later and our Honda Accord was full. It was a true testament to our car that it could fit everything without prior planning (not to mention we had two suitcases, too).

But the thing that really impressed me about Ikea was the kid-friendly atmosphere, not just the kid's section of the store. Throughout the store (which is friggin' HUGE!), there were stations for kids to play while their parents shopped. So Mom and Dad can browse the kitchen cabinets while Jimmy and Sally play at a designated play area right in the department. Also, the cafeteria on the top floor had a nice kid's section for adults and kids to sit at that included a flat-screen TV playing Ratatouille. The kid's menu was generally nutritious and they even sold jars of baby food in the cafeteria. The bathrooms even included a smaller sink with a stool for kids to wash their hands.

I'm assuming that the Ikea stores are organized and planned by the Swedes, being that Ikea is a Swedish company. So why don't we make our American stores more family-friendly? I'm happy finding a baby-changing station that's not cramped between two blow-dryers, but why do we settle for that? I always thought one of our local Targets was cool because they have a Family Restroom that makes it nice for everyone to shuffle into -- Mom or Dad, pre-schooler and baby in a stroller.

Is it too much to ask that our stores offer a more family-friendly environment? Is it really that big of a deal to make ONE sink lower than the rest so a child can reach?

Ikea not only make children acceptable, they make them feel welcome. What a foreign idea!

Sugar Mama

Do you ever wonder if you're normal?

I think all of us wonder if we're part of the mainstream or if we're a bit outside of the norm. And I'm sure even normal people bend to the right or left of a straight line now and then in certain areas -- after all, we all have our quirks (for me, all toilet paper must roll off the front -- it's easier to tear off) and we wouldn't be us without these pesky habits.

I went to an Elmo Party today with my girls, the kind of thing hosted by the city's Parks and Recreation Department for the summer. Mistakenly, I told my 4-year-old that the real Elmo was going to be there and she was quite disappointed when I found out I read the description of the program wrong... but that's for another entry.

What I found to be the most interesting part of this experience was observing the parents. For example, one eager mother bubbled on about how she had signed her daughter up for every class offered that summer... Dora's Adventure, Go Diego, Princess Party, Animals in Action, etc. Her enthusiasm oozed out of every pore like a toxic spill. I almost caught myself gawking at her. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great to be active with your children, but signing up for EVERY class seems like a bit much. My girls are in a couple this year just to get us out of the house doing something different, and I think that seems pretty reasonable. Filling our entire summer with scheduled programs, dance lessons, gymnastics and sports is a little much for me -- and remember, we're talking about 4-year-olds here.

In addition to over-scheduling her child, this mother began a conversation with another mom about the snack provided at the program: a small snickerdoodle cookie the kids got to decorate with icing, 2 mini-marshmallows and a few chocolate chips. I know it wasn't a healthy snack and yes, I strive to feed my children healthy food. Typical snacks in our house can be anything from fruit to crackers to a granola bar -- a treat will be chocolate graham crackers or some strawberry milk. I wasn't impressed with the snack, but it was a special occasion so I didn't balk at the cookie too much.

But not Super-Mom. Apparently, as she reported, there was more sugar in that snack than what her daughter got in one week. Another mother chimed in that "they just don't like eating this kind of stuff when they're not used to it." And "my son wouldn't even eat birthday cake because he doesn't get sweets that much."

Are you kidding me?

It's a 2-inch cookie with a tiny bit of frosting. And you're child wouldn't even eat a piece of cake at a birthday party?

I understand our nation is in the middle of a weight epidemic and that children develop unhealthy habits at an early age. And like I said, our house is filled with healthy foods -- fruits, veggies, whole-grain bread, lean meat, etc. But denying a child the opportunity to enjoy a treat to the point that they don't even LIKE it that much seems to be beyond the norm. Right?

Heck, maybe I'm wrong and what I perceive to be a healthy diet is not so healthy after all. I will deny this of course and anyone is invited to look through my cupboards and refrigerator to inspect our food choices -- I will ensure you that a nutritionist would be quite pleased... I'll just hide the Fig Newtons when she comes.

The Honeymoon is Over

When I brought my second daughter home, Cora was not quite 2 1/2 years old. To say Cora was excited about a new baby would be an understatement. She was practically obsessed with the new baby's whereabouts at all times. She helped change diapers, get bottles ready, sing songs, read stories, get burp cloths -- you name it, Cora helped do it. Many times a day I heard little Cora say, "Let's go see what the baby's doing," and she'd tip toe to the cradle to watch her new sister sleeping. Cora even named her own new baby doll, Adelle. And she called her new sister Adelle Baby -- which always made me smile because it sounded a lot like A Doll Baby.

Even now, with Adelle 2 and Cora 4, I could not ask Cora to be a better big sister. She's protective when it comes to germs in public restrooms ("Adelle, DO NOT touch anything"), she still helps change diapers ("She's got the yucks!"), and she even shared her juice with her after a soccer game (with no prompting from me).

But I realized that even with all this sister-y goodness, the honeymoon is definitely over. Memorial Day was spent prying the two girls apart and putting them each in their own rooms for some seriously needed Alone Time. They fought over tiny dinosaurs, Barbies, books, Legos, and anything else either one of them touched.
"Mom! Adelle's not sharing!"
"Cora, share!"
"Mom! She's kicking me!"
"Ow!"
"Ow, Mom! She's hurting me!"
Then cries from both girls.

James and I were at our wits end. I suddenly felt severe guilt for having put my own parents through this same plight with my older brother when we were kids. How many times did my parents have to draw an imaginary line in the back seat of the car that we could not cross as to avoid a fight? Or how many times did I complain my brother wasn't being fair? Or that he hit me? Or that he hurt me?

My mother has always told me that she originally wanted three children, but once my brother and I started bickering, she couldn't imagine adding a third child to the mix. So she stopped at two.

I don't blame her one bit.

Creepy Kids

My escapades at the park lately have been fraught with encounters with some creepy kids.

My girls, ages 2 and 4, are the epitome of innocence and laughter. They whine, throw fits, and fight, like all siblings, but when they're at the park, you can't help but smile at them as they discover the freedom of swooshing down a slide or flying high in a swing. I try to soak up this youthful energy whenever I can because it is fleeting, and it will expire with age.

Sadly, I have witnessed some unusual children at the park who do not share this type of youthful innocence. One little girl I interacted with yesterday was a sad little thing. One look in her eyes told you she wasn't happy. In fact, even though she was only 4 or 5, her eyes oozed a child-like contempt for everything -- me, my daughters, my husband, the playground, the sky. She did not smile one time while she was there. And her attempts to befriend my 4-year-old failed because my daughter has keen instincts when it comes to other people, especially children.

I don't even want to begin to think how an innocent child can become so numb inside that a glorious playground does not make her smile.

That same day at the park, another girl about 6- or 7-years old followed my 2-year-old around. I know that sometimes older kids like to play with toddlers for a little bit. But she wasn't really playing with my daughter; it was more like blocking her path and taunting her.

Come to find out, the two strange girls were at the park together. And upon further investigating, we finally located the parents -- a couple of dads completely unengaged with their children, relaxing at a picnic table. And it's not just that the dads were taking a breather, they were each covered in tattoos. Their skin was rough, like a pale sandpaper, with a hint of grey to their skin. Not to stereotype, but they really looked like prison inmates, drug addicts or child abusers. We deduced that the dad's were doing their weekly visitation with their kids, being Wednesday night and looking at the circumstances. At least they took their kids to the park, I guess.

I feel terrible inside for these poor children who appeared to have been through some kind of trauma, be it mental, emotional or physical. You could just tell something wasn't all peaches and cream with these kids.

The scary part about this is that I seem to be seeing more and more children like this when I'm at the park, the zoo, the mall, the library, etc. What does that say for our future?

I guess all I can do is continue to give my girls the type of childhood we all should have -- fun, care-free and innocent.

The roles are reversed

When do our kids become smarter than us?

A couple of months ago, I sneaked to my mother's house while she was at work and cleaned out her disorganized and botulism-ridden pantry. Okay, the expired cans probably weren't old enough to have botulism, but several of them were years past their expiration dates. Every time I came over and happened to open the pantry door, I would cringe at the sight. Boxes of popcorn and pasta, several varieties soup, Little Debbie snacks, Nutrigrain bars, Teddy Grahams, Blueberry Morning cereal, a peanut butter jar and syrup were all shoved haphazardly in this skinny little space about 18 inches across. Any items that implied cooking made me chuckle -- pasta sauces, lasagna noodles, condensed soups, packets of taco seasonings -- because since I moved out of the house 9 years ago, my mother only seems to make eggs, grilled-cheese sandwiches and toast.

I had mentioned on several occasions that the pantry needed to be cleaned out. Although the pantry is only a foot and a half wide, the items were stuffed so erratically that I could stand there for 5 minutes just gazing at the wonder of it. It was a flashback to my grandmother's pantry which we had to clean out after my grandfather died, and my grandmother decided to move from the lake house into town closer to family. My grandmother's pantry was 10 times bigger than my mother's, and she had canned goods so old that they were oozing thick, black goo -- that is NOT an exaggeration. I did not want my mother's pantry to get like that; in fact, I refused to have it get like that. And any comments I made relating my mother's pantry to my grandmother's pantry usually began a bickering session between my mother and me.

So I came over one day to clean the mess up and throw out the old, expired food. Out of this tiny pantry, I filled 3 large kitchen trash bags full of old food, all of it past the expiration date. I didn't even think that much food could fit into such a small space. Fermented vinegars, crusty sugar, stale marshmallows, expired soups, pasta sauce that was starting to turn grey... it was pretty gross.

The worst part was that I did not know if my mother would be angry at me for taking this bold step. In actuality, it wasn't really my place to come to her home and clean out her pantry... but I really had had enough of it. My daughters don't eat over there very much, but what if they were inadvertently served rotten food? I knew the risk wasn't high (surely any of us could smell or see the food was rotten before serving it), but I used this excuse to justify my actions.

All in all, my mother was okay with it, but mad I threw away her syrup. In my defense it was 2 years PAST the expiration date! She still wanted to use it!

She told her friend and neighbor about what I did with the pantry. Her friend asked, "Why do our kids feel like they need to begin parenting US?"

It made me wonder, when do the kids and parents reverse roles? I wasn't trying to parent my mother, but the food was OLD and UNSAFE. Come on! I couldn't understand why she didn't see that and then take 30 minutes out of her day to clean it up. Is that what it's like living with a teenager?

When will my girls try to parent me? Well, my 4-year-old already tries to do that.

No, Mommy, you do not throw things. (I tossed a toy into the bath tub toy bin.)

Maybe the question isn't WHEN will they start, but WHEN will they be right?

Phases of the Child

As I write this, my 2-year-old is throwing a crying fit in her crib. It is time for bed and we went through her nightly routine -- bath, teeth brushing, hair combing and stories. She had a big day at her grandma's outside so I know she's tired. But for the last week or so, she has insisted on complaining about bedtime.

My 4-year-old used to do this as well when she was a toddler. For 95% of the time, she would quietly lay down, maybe read a book in her crib, babble for a few minutes and drift off to sleep. Then for some reason, she'd cry at bedtime for a week or two, but when we didn't give in to any demands or provide unnecessary attention, she'd go back to her usual routine.

I've come to realize that children, like the moon, have phases. For the most part, they follow the routine we've established with some slight variations here and there. And then they attempt to defy the routine or test the waters. What will Mommy and Daddy do if I throw a fit at bedtime? Will they give me extra cuddles? Will they rock me? Will I get an extra cup of milk? When none of these extraneous demands are met, they return to the normal routine of going to sleep quietly and quickly and life goes on as usual... until the next time it happens... a full cycle, a complete circle.

For all I know, their behaviors and moods are directly tied to the actual phases of the moon. After working in a hospital, I can vouch that the strangest patients and most bizarre cases came in to be seen during a full moon. What's up with that anyway?

If I were more ambitious about this, I would chart my children's behavior and compare it to the moon. Sounds like something my husband would do. I'll leave it up to him.

A New Beginning

My first post on this new blog. Daunting for several reasons, but mainly because I haven't written in WAY too long. And also because I'm not accustomed to typing my thoughts; I'm usually more old-fashioned with a pen and paper, you know... a fresh college-ruled notebook and a brand new pen. Who writes like that anymore?

So introductions are probably in order. Good day. I'm Amber. I'm currently 29 years old living in Indiana with my husband of 9 years and our two daughters, ages 2 and almost 4 1/2. We live in a 60-year-old ranch on an acre on the outskirts of a small city... kind of in the country but very close to city amenities which is just the way I like it. I could stand to live in a more secluded location, but that costs more money. And I'm a total tight-wad with money, so I'll stay on our acre.

I grow a vegetable garden that is going to be way too full of potatoes this year. And if the watermelon plant takes, I'm not sure where the bell peppers and aforementioned potatoes will do -- I'm envisioning some kind of vegetable war. And it could appear bloody if any watermelon burst. But I'm a peace-lover so hopefully it doesn't come to that... we'll attempt mediation at all costs.

So what else is there to know about me?
I was recently laid off from my job and I am using this time off of work to re-evaluate what I want to do with my life. Fortunately, I am in a position where I do not need to work (don't get me wrong, the extra money is wonderful, but it's not necessary for our survival), so I've been digging pretty deep into my recesses to see what all is down there. And do you know what I've found so far? A writing bug (and a whole lot of nothing else).

To whoever reads this: thanks for stopping by and come back often... I hope to make this blog a regular part of my life. I hope to bring some light-hearted humor, maybe an insight or two, and a lot of other pretty senseless (yet entertaining) nonsense.