Fossil beds with my boys

Two weeks ago, N's class visited a local state park on a field trip, and I went with them.  Due to the weather, we were not able to get out on the fossil beds.

Today, G's playgroup visited the same state park, and the weather was absolutely perfect so we were able to see the beds up close.  I think I did damn well managing the boys on the rocks, logs and general river debris...no one ended up bruised or bloody, and I even got some photos.

I told G and his playgroup friends how this area was an ocean 400,000 years ago, and how we don't know if any dinosaurs were in this area since all evidence was eroded away by melting glaciers.  At that point, all 3 of the older boys (M was the tagalong) managed to find gigantic rocks that they informed me were dinosaur teeth and dinosaur eggs and dinosaur whatever.  As suspected, loads of well-researched evidence mean nothing to preschoolers.

It was the perfect place for little boys to get muddy, climb, throw rocks and hit things with sticks.

What IS your problem, anyway?

If I knew why G gets up out of bed multiple times a night, I would do something about it.  He doesn't have to use the potty.  He isn't crying in fear.  He doesn't even talk to me.  For all I know, he could be sleep-walking.  I am in such a fog of sleep-deprivation I really don't pay much attention to him as I walk him back to his room and cover him up.

I do all the stuff a parent is "supposed" to do to get a child to stay in his/her room.  We have a consistent bedtime routine, his room is inviting, I don't let him in my bed or lay in his bed, I walk him back to his room over and over and over again.

I have observed how he sleeps when he hasn't had a nap versus when he has had a nap---it makes no difference.  He actually seems to get up more during the night when he hasn't napped.  Since he is up for the day at 6:00 am, he simply can't make it until 8 or 8:30 without some kind of mid-day rest, especially since the nice weather is keeping us outside and active much of the time.

But I am about ready to resort to a frying pan upside the head to induce grogginess or duct taping his ass to his mattress.  My mood is very much tied to my sleep, so suffice it to say my antidepressant is having to work overtime all the time to keep my irritability in check.

I suggested to him last night that we do a Reward Chart whereby he gets a star if he stays in bed all night and a small toy after M-F of staying in bed.  Last night I think he got me up 3 times, so I'm not sure external motivators are his thing.  Lord knows, I hate charts but I am so desperate for uninterrupted sleep.

In my fog of grouchiness before my coffee kicked in, I searched and found some books that I have already reserved in an attempt to help me deal with G:  Sleepless in America and How To Raise Your Spirited Child, both by Mary Kurcinka.  


God, do I ever wish kids came with instructions tied to their toes when they popped out of the uterus.  

I survived Spring Break (I think)

We were busy bees the first 5 days of Spring Break.

Saturday was our first foray into egg dying and decorating, as well as Easter celebrations with my brother, his family and my parents.  

The spoils of Nana & Pa's egg hunt.  The other two kids were too busy running around to actually get photos of them.

Sunday was Easter celebrating at home with the kids' baskets....

And more celebrating at Mamaw's house later in the day.

A certain 4-year-old boy woke me at 3 am Monday with chocolate puke all over himself and his bed.  A memorable Easter, indeed.

Monday was the zoo.  (No photos since I was solo with all 3 kids, a picnic lunch and the wagon.)

Tuesday was a local nature preserve.  We actually went once after lunch and once in the evening since the kids had such a great time the first go-round.  Fortunately, this preserve is a 5-minute drive from our house so Daddy and Mamaw were able to explore with us.  G kept running ahead yelling, "C'mon team!  Let's explore!"

Wednesday was a day trip to a small children's museum about an hour from our house.

Given the busyiness of the first 5 days, the remainder of the time has been spent laying fairly low.  

My love/hate relationship with articles on saving money

When I see a magazine that has an article titled, "How I Saved $10,000 in a Year" (or a title along those lines), I cannot flip to that article quickly enough.  In my mind I'm thinking that maybe I will learn another tip for saving money, some deep, dark, long-lost secret for squirrelly away another coin.

And I am always disappointed because everything the person says to do, I'm (and we're) already doing.

I use vinegar and ammonia and baking soda rather than purchasing expensive cleaning products.
I clean and reuse plastic bags again and again.
We buy Starbucks bagged coffee and brew it at home.
I buy clothes and furnishings off craigslist and at consignment sales.
We don't go on big vacations every year.
We eat out infrequently.
I buy generic for most everything.
I periodically search for better rates on homeowners/car insurance and request deals on phone/cable modem.
We watch public television and don't have cable/satellite expenses.

I probably do save $10,000 a year, but I'm looking for the golden goose of frugality---something that probably doesn't exist if I want to actually, I don't know, have a life. 

Pre-Spring Break (aka, How Will I Ever Survive Summer?)

Tomorrow officially begins N and G's Spring Break.  My enthusiasm is underwhelming.

The good news is that it is only 5 days, and surely....surely....I can survive 5 days with my children.  The other good news is that it gives me a window into what I will need to do when we are attempting to survive summer break.

I had a brilliant brainstorm while reading with N before bed:  a shared summer reading journal.  When D reads to her this summer, she can write me a note about what she read, and when she and I read together, I can write my reflections on what we read and she can respond to my thoughts.

There isn't much I've planned for the week.  Tuesday and Thursday mornings I exercise at a friend's house in the morning, and Wednesday I have a small day trip planned to a nearby city's children's museum.  I strong-armed my parents into keeping N and G Thursday night for a sleepover (actually I just asked, and they agreed.  If it were me being asked, I would so have to be strong-armed.)

N has 2 birthday parties to attend, so we'll be wrapping gifts, and she'll be making cards.  And we've got to create a gift to the earth made of recyclable materials (for her school's Earth Day celebration).

And I might get all crazy and attempt to clean something.
But I doubt it.

Getting my money's worth

I recently purchased a dual annual membership to our local zoo and science museum for about $150.  Three Thursdays in a row in March, the boys and I went to the zoo.  Had I bought tickets each visit these trips would have cost me $73.35.  This past week we visited the science center, which would have cost us $35 for a one-time visit.   So in six weeks time, more or less, we've almost paid for our membership.  I love, love, love knowing that I am getting my money's worth, which I think means I'm a boring ole grownup.

The boys just love having fun.

G on the rhino sculpture.

Having a blast on the carousel.

In a canoe.

Making a M-G-and-komodo dragon sandwich.

Chatting it up with "Naah" (Nana) on the phone at the science center.

Putting on a puppet show.

Heading down the slide.

The water play area is, by far, their favorite.  

My little detective and his assistant.  

I am volcano

I feel very ashamed to admit this, but my fuse with G is about a millimeter long.  Far, far, far shorter than it is with N and M.  And I hate this.

I hate it that he has the uncanny ability to set me completely off by his whining.  I hate it that I can't just shut it out.  I hate it that when he wakes me up at 6:00 a.m. every morning and then wants to lean on me when I'm eating my english muffins and drinking my coffee that I shrug him off and become highly irritated (and irritable) that he keeps wanting to make physical contact.  I hate it that I feel like I am constantly apologizing to him for yelling.  I hate it that at least once a day my blood pressure feels like it sky-rockets off the charts because of him just being him.

The only thing that brings me any solace is remembering my mom and my brother when he was a kid.  The blowouts those two would have.  The time when I heard him making a "glug,glug" sound in the tub when he refused to cooperate with bath and getting the soap out of his hair and mom just dunked him under water.  His near constant ability to poop in his pants even after mom asked him repeatedly if he needed to go (which G seems to have inherited from him).  How at least once (and probably more often) a wooden spoon was broken (over his head?  his butt?) when mom went after him.  How my Uncle E referred to my brother as "Turd" for reasons that I fully get now that I am an adult and a mother of a son who also qualifies as a turd.

My brother turned out to be a decent, normal guy.  A man who has a good relationship with his mother.  A father who has sons who also push his buttons in maybe the same way he pushed my mom's buttons.  In the same ways that G pushes my buttons.

Every day I strive to be more patient with G, to not allow him to set me off.  And every day I fail.
Miserably.