Sunday, July 23, 2006

Recognizing that you have a problem is the first step...

Today, in the car to and from various errands, we got to listen to The Tired Monologues, courtesy of Boy Wonder. Some of the monologues made sense; others, begun right after he woke up from dozing in his car seat, did not. My favorite: on the way home from grocery shopping, he said, "Sometimes, I get angry. I get angry when I am tired. And I get cranky when I am tired. I get CRANKY."

Truer words? Were never spoken. He certainly does get cranky when he is tired. And, since he is an energetic three-year-old who likes getting up at 5:19 and strongly dislikes napping, he is frequently tired. Sometimes, I forget to ask his daycare teacher if he napped during the day; however, I can probably stop asking entirely, as it soon becomes obvious on the drive home. If he is cheerful, eats his breadstick snack happily, and wants to go home and make pizza for dinner, he took a nap. If he starts out cheerful but moments later bursts into tears, says that he hates pizza, cries that he doesn't want dinner at all, shouts weepily "I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE!" (the latest tantrum-pronouncement, and I have no idea where he picked that one up), and then falls asleep, he has not napped.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Who's a slacker now?

Overheard on the way into the infant room at the kids' daycare:

"I am so sorry. I can't believe his dad didn't dress him today. I'll make sure he's wearing something other than pajamas tomorrow!"

The parent who said this really did seem horrified that her son, who is about six months old, had been brought to daycare in his pajamas. Wait, there's something wrong with that? I sent Baby Boone to daycare in pajamas a lot, earlier this summer. We had a cool, rainy spell, and it was really the most convenient way to make sure he stayed warm. Plus, wearing footie pajamas is a happy alternative to wearing those little baby socks that get kicked/wiggled off so easily.

Now, if someone had dropped a pajama-clad Boy Wonder off at daycare, I might have been a little irritated. He's three: they go outside, they play in the grass, they need to be wearing clothes and shoes. But in the infant room? They sit in bouncy chairs, roll around on blankets playing with little educational plastic toys, and are held a lot. For that, they need to be dressed in an actual outfit?

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Confessions of a slack-jawed reader

So, a while back I read the book Confessions of a Slacker Mom. I was expecting to like it, a lot. I thought it would be sort of like, "Well, I let my kid eat at McDonald's and watch Sesame Street, and that's OK!" What do I get for having expectations? I get, "Well, I was raised a certain way, and my brothers and I turned out JUST FINE, thanks. So that's how I'm raising my children. Everyone should, really."

There are many things about this book that bother me. Here are just a few of them.

1. The author grew up on a ranch in Wyoming. She's from a ranching family, and grew up doing ranching chores on her family's ranch in Wyoming. Her ranching family did things a certain way on their ranch in Wyoming, and she and her brothers turned out just fine after growing up in a Wyoming ranching family. Did you get the part about the ranch in Wyoming? It's OK if you didn't catch it the first few times. The subject comes up frequently.

2. The author doesn't like to take or organize photos, really. Her mother wasn't really into keeping photo albums either. Therefore, women who make scrapbooks are building little shrines to their children; their scrapbooks are full of trivial and predictable content, and their children will develop an overinflated sense of importance (and be totally embarassed) when they see the scrapbooks their mothers made. Oh, but due to her personality type, she could no doubt make a wonderful scrapbook if she felt like it. But she doesn't.

3. The cardboard tube story! This one sent me into fits. As a toddler, the author's daughter found a cardboard tube from the inside of a paper towel or toilet paper roll, and began playing with it: using it as a musical instrument, looking through it, whacking a fence with it. The author seems very impressed by this, and later wonders if her daughter is a prodigy, or if she was just using her imagination to turn the cardboard tube into a toy because she wasn't overloaded with regular toys. My vote goes to, "She's a kid. They do that with cardboard tubes. Whether or not they have other toys." In my family, we even have a special name for them; we call them doodle-oos. This is because every child in my family, when presented with one of these, would put his or her mouth to one end of the tube and say, "Doodle-oodle-ooo!" or some variation of that. Generally, dancing was involved as well. We have home movies of my cousin and I dancing around on a beach with a couple of cardboard tubes. I have a picture of Boy Wonder using one as a telescope. I think it might be universal.

Anyway. Where did my point go? Oh, there it is. There seems to be no middle ground in this book. (Which I suppose is par for the course if you're coming up with a parenting philosophy. It's your philosophy; better stick to it!) The author was raised a certain way, so that's the way to do things. The author doesn't care about pictures with Santa or the Easter Bunny, so no one should. The author does not believe in praising children for doing everyday things, so all parents must save praise for carefully selected special occasions. The author doesn't buy a lot of toys for her kids...etc. And, finally, someone invented the LeapPad, so children will turn tnto dullards who can't read books for themselves.

Well, Boy Wonder has a LeapPad. He likes it; it makes fun sounds. But it hasn't turned him off of traditional books. And he sure as hell doesn't ask the LeapPad to read him a bedtime story. He asks me (and Dragon too, of course). And I will try my darndest to be there at his soccer games (or school plays, or chess matches, or whatever his activity of choice might be). I'll praise him for small things, and I might make a scrapbook or two filled with photos of him. And I'll do the same for Baby Boone, and for any other children I might have someday. I'll even buy them toys (although my relatives pretty much have that covered). Because that's how I was raised. And I like to think I turned out JUST FINE, thanks.

But I'm not about to write a book advocating that people do things my way.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

News in brief

1. The biggest news of the week: Baby Boone rolled over! The milestone way, from back to stomach. He did this about a month and a half earlier than expected. I put him in his crib, and he rolled onto his side and began wriggling around, frantically trying for some reason to eat the crib sheet. I walked into the other room, and said to Dragon, "Poor kid, it looks like he's trying to roll over! It will probably be a while, though." Then I walked back into the boys' room to check on him, and said, "Or, not. Hey, he rolled over! Come and see!" We praised him for being clever, and I rescued him from the crib, whereupon he frantically began trying to eat my shirt.

2. We went to visit Nanny and the raspberry bushes again, and Baby Boone was awake this time, so Nanny held him while Boy Wonder and I headed out with our little plastic containers. We filled them with raspberries and headed back indoors, and Boy Wonder once again scarfed down a bunch of raspberries. Later, on the way home, he fell asleep, and I deposited him in the living room recliner for his nap. He kept turning over, and after a while I noticed his hands moving: one of them was moving across the chair, grabbing at something, and the other was reaching for something in the air. I think he was still picking raspberries.

3. The Wild Hunt is on: Dragon and I have begun house-hunting in earnest. We went to several open houses on Sunday. That was fun.

House #1 lacked a basement, which meant that the laundry facilities and water heater were behind a curtain in the kitchen. (Gong noise.) This is how our current place is laid out, so we're sort of trying to ditch that. Also, the listing mentioned "beautiful murals," one of which was of a unicorn flying over a rainbow. Er, no. (Whack that gong.)

House #2 had a fabulous basement, but was rather cramped otherwise, with two tiny bedrooms. (Gong noise.) However, if there had been THREE tiny bedrooms, we might have considered it. Also, the realtor was fairly pleasant.

House #3 was quite attractive, with a stained-glass window and a built-in china cabinet, but had about three feet of counter space in the entire kitchen. (Gong noise.) And, we think the homeowners were watching us on a webcam somewhere; there were tiny cameras stationed all over the house, and a large server in the basement. The realtor claimed to have no knowledge of such a thing. We did not believe him.

House #4 was an impromptu stop; we saw an open-house sign, decided to go check it out, and were rewarded by being shown a very attractive home. Another fabulous basement, along with four reasonably sized bedrooms, a kitchen with more than two feet of counter space, and enough storage for all of the table linens my mother keeps passing along to us. Sadly, this was all accompanied by a high property tax and an even higher price. (Bang the gong slowly.)

4. Baby Boone has amazingly long eyelashes. They brush the tops of his cheeks.

5. Boy Wonder has amazingly loud tantrums, although it didn't stop him from falling asleep in the middle of one tonight. I suspect he did not take a nap today.

6. Quoth the spam filter:

Hi, opera cloak!
Your health, melba grass
Order status, peacock ore
Order status, flower blaster
Your cash, nerve-trying

I have to argue with that last one, there; in fact, my LACK of cash is what's nerve-trying!