Birthday plans

Next week G turns the big 5, a milestone that saddens me a bit.  I remember so much from N's first 5 years.  As my one and only for most of that time, I was able to focus all of my attention on her growth and development, to notice every single change.  

With G becoming the middle child 11 days after he turned 2, I have to queue up the home videos to remember much of his toddler time.  N started elementary school around the same time so distractions abounded.

We are doing it up big this year---a My Gym party with playgroup and preschool friends.  I've purchased the Avenger plates and napkins.  His presents are awaiting wrapping.  And I am thinking about the treats for the occasion that I have brewing in my imagination.  

I am making Avenger-inspired cake pops for his My Gym party, but I want to have a little something on his actual birthday which falls a few days earlier.  So I think I'm going to make a small Hulk cake topped with cake pops that may or may not end up looking like Iron Man, Thor and Captain America.  I'm sure it will be ugly......but made with love.  

Once again I'm swallowing that uncomfortable feeling I get when people RSVP and ask what G would like as a gift.  A part of me wants to say, "Oh don't get him anything," but I know people won't do that, and I know that as a 5-year-old, G wants toys.  I'm always amazed by the kids who forego presents to make a donation to a charity.  I think it is great and kinda freakish (but then I'm a selfish prig so what do I know).  

So I just say something vague like, "Anything your boys would like," or "He likes typical boy things." A non-answer answer to their kind question.  

I am a big book giver, a gift-giving habit I find many people do not share with me.  My kids rarely, if ever, get books as gifts....unless I specifically tell one of the grandmas that the kids want certain books.  Santa, the Easter Bunny and Mommy/Daddy always give books.  A child can have too many toys and clothes, but never, ever too many books.    

G pulled a typical "mind-changing trick" on me.  He asked for a large Captain America doll action figure, but then earlier this week when we saw it at Target  he decided he wanted Iron Man or the Hulk.  I'm hoping his elation over his big party will ease the pain of getting Captain America.  (M is getting the Hulk....because I just cannot buy 2 identical gifts for the boys....it pains me to even think about having 2 identical toys in my house.  I can't explain this phobia.)

So next week will be chock full of homemade cake and buttercream icing making, as well as wrangling with fondant and sugar sheets, substances I have never used before.  

My hopes are high, as they always are.  Reality never, ever matches my dreams, but that is the beauty of children's birthdays. 

In the end, if it has sugar and icing, they so don't care. 

First full week of "normal" and I'm beat

I seem to remember signing up for 2 classes once.....the fun kid classes where I get to spend quality time with the kids in an environment where I don't have to clean or do laundry or get snacks or any of the 4 trillion other things that distract me from spending quality time with my kids at home.

Anyway, once we took 2 classes at the same time, and I think I remember saying I wouldn't do that again.  But I did.  And now I'm tired.

Because now, in addition to 2 classes, I'm working out 2 mornings a week (not the same mornings as the classes).  And then there's M's playgroup, which also isn't on the class mornings but is on the workout mornings.

Suffice it to say, my house looks crummy.

Of course, I have been working on the outside of the house now that it is less than 100 degrees outside.  Sealing/staining the swingset.  Working on landscaping in the front of the house (which D and I finished today).  I need to take down the compost bin (which has ripped and is no longer turn-able).  There is also the garage re-do....painting and reorganizing....on the agenda this fall.

I'm also doing birthday preparations.  Buying plates/cups/napkins last week.  Buying stuff to make homemade cake pops this weekend.

As busy as things are right now, I'm not complaining.  Really.
Because I am getting a break from my kids, they aren't watching tv all freaking day, and I am not having the pack the cooler and drag life vests from the car to the pool.

She moves in miserly ways

Today I dropped off close to 200 items (toys, books and kids' clothes) to sell at a local ginormous consignment sale.  It makes me a little sick to my stomach because that is a lot of sh*t.  And my stack was nuthin' compared to a lot of the other moms who were dropping off all their stuff.

I like to play a game as I'm considering what to purge at these consignment sales.  It's called, "I Didn't Spend Money on That."

Most of the stuff I sell I didn't actually buy.  This doesn't mean I only sell stuff that other people give the kids.  It means that even though we have oodles of kid stuff, a sizable chunk of it comes from other people at Christmas and birthdays.  From where I sit at the kitchen table, I can see 5 toys:  Lincoln Logs, a Thomas the Train ride-on toy, a Fisher Price Little People tall ramp, a Fisher Price Little People small ramp, and a Fisher Price Little People Batman ramp.  D and I purchased one---the tall Fisher Price ramp.  Everything else was from an aunt/uncle/grandparent.

I tell myself that aunts/uncles/grandparents would prefer that I sell gently used items so that I can purchase the clothes/shoes that I put on the kids' backs during the next season (which will then be sold down the line).

I buy a lot of G's stuff at consignment because as a boy, he generally doesn't care what he wears, whether it matches, or whether it has "bling" on it.  And boys are hard on clothes....all that wrestling in Target and all tends to take its toll on fabric.  Since I know M will one day wear whatever I purchase for G, buying gently used is especially thrilling.  If I can get some pants for $3, I've only spent a dollar and half per boy.  Huzzah!!!

I've gotten to the point with N that I don't want to shop with her (because that is just annoying), but I don't want to shop without her (because she is so darn picky, and I don't want to spend money on something she won't wear).

Hey, I made a reference to another U2 song without ever actually intending to.  Cool.  

As I'm going through kid stuff prior to consignment, I sometimes wonder if I am a complete miser.  I have friends who just donate their stuff to like....anyone.  I am not so giving.  I have certain giving requirements, which is that the recipient is either family OR needy (as in 18, unmarried or unplanned pregnancy or all of these).  I don't just give stuff to my stay-at-home mom friends, most of whom are like me, upper-middle-class suburban moms whose husbands make decent (if not really great) money.

I've had friends just give me stuff, but I always, always offer to pay them.  I wish they would let me....mostly to lessen my feelings of miserliness when I don't give them stuff.

Marriage and appliances

D and I have been married almost 15 years.  Since we went from our parents' homes to our own own, we bought everything new or was gifted it as a wedding present.

This means that now everything has broken or is hell-bent on just being an ass and completely unreliable.

This summer we purchased a new dishwasher, microwave and refrigerator.  This weekend it was a new vacuum.  I will be glad if we don't have to purchase or repair anything else for a good long time so we can recoup the savings in our accounts.

It seems the demise of appliances is akin to the demise of marriages.  It seems like every week I hear of another couple whose marriage (in the 13-18-year range) has gone caput.  As much as it saddens me to spend money, it saddens me more to hear of heartbreak.

Like the human body, none of this stuff just up and dies.  It is a slow decline.  Time and routine and monotony and injury and dust and defective parts play their roles until it seems best just to euthanize it and move on.  Cut your losses.  Find someone (or something) new.

And while there is excitement over having something new, it is brief.  Something gets spilled.  The stainless steel finish becomes covered in fingerprints.  The reality of the $6,000 credit card bill sets in.  There is loneliness and regret and buyer's remorse (or dating remorse).

In 15 years or less, these appliances will be dated and worn and become completely unreliable.

The cycle continues.  

A little yearning and being on the other side (again)

Today I went to N's school for a Girl Scout rally, of sorts.  A couple other troop leaders and I talked to kindergartners, 2nd graders, and 5th graders (with maybe a smattering of girls from some other grades) about Girl Scouts.

N has gotten to do some really neat things as part of Girl Scouts (especially since I took over as leader), and so I am pleased to be able to share this with other girls and hopefully help them have similar experiences.

But while we were at the school, I remembered how much as a teacher, I ABHORRED interruptions to my instruction.  It pissed me the hell off because it was a distraction to the students, it got me out of my flow, it put me behind in my lesson.  And I thought I only felt differently about summer break now that I'm a full-time mom and not a teacher.

I also realized how much middle school suits me.  Talking to the 5th graders was pleasant.  Talking to the kindergartners was torture.  They wiggled.  They wobbled.  They asked questions that were not questions but statements of fact or opinion.  When I asked if anyone had questions, one little girl raised her hand and said, "On Max & Ruby, Ruby is a Girl Scout."  I didn't burst her bubble to inform her that 1.) that wasn't a question and 2.) Ruby is a Bunny Scout, not a Girl Scout.  Those technicalities would have gone over her 5-year-old head anyway.

Afterwards I just hung out in N's classroom (where I decided that 3rd graders are about the youngest group I would care to teach).  There was less than 45 minutes until school let out, and I didn't want to drive home to have to drive back for car-rider line.

Sitting there, watching the students, I felt that longing to have my own classroom.  The longing to be educating kids other than my own (because I'm not their "mom" they would be more apt to listen).  The longing to be using my head to plan lessons and converse with colleagues.  The longing to be part of something outside of my own house and family.

But..........
Ah, there is always a but.

I just don't know if I can do it.  I'm simply not the same person I was when I taught, and I don't know if that will make me a better or worse teacher.  I don't know that I want the constancy of the work.  But I don't know that subbing (and not planning or having a say in how things are done) will satisfy me either.  It will on a time/flexibility level, but not on an intellectual level.

I thought by almost 39 I was supposed to know what I wanted to be as an adult.

Not so deep thoughts

Here is what has been running through my mind lately.....

*I love my children, but I hate watching them play Kinnect video games.  Or any video games.  Video games are just not my thing.  Nor is watching tv.  I can handle a movie....occasionally (although I have rarely finished a movie with the kids because someone always needs something during it requiring that I get up and miss various parts).

My kids, though, like me to watch them play video games.  So I do.  Sorta.  Blogging at the same time about how much I dislike watching them play video games.  Of course, I have to stop typing repeatedly to help them fix the Xbox or whatev....like just now.  This is so their daddy's area of expertise, and I generally tell them to do it with him.  But some days, I'm not so lucky.

*I miss waking up gradually, especially now that I am stepping more firmly into middle age.  I miss stretching my limbs, yawning, laying in the half-wakefulness of the morning.  Being awoken from a dead sleep at 6:00 am every morning and having to get up immediately, tripping down the steps in a fog, is not cool.

*Nutsedge grass sucks.

*I am really, really glad I have 3 children because it makes me really, really done with whatever phase we've just finished.  It is a nice feeling....to not linger with sentimental weepiness about not ever having another baby.  And I don't want a puppy either.

*My arm muscles look really quite good since my friends and I switched from at-home bootcamp to at-the-gym bootcamp.  I'd be lying if I said I don't make muscle poses in the bathroom mirror.

*Having children means constantly hemorrhaging money.  And while I am glad that we have the funds to cover things, it still sucks to have to take chunks of that hard-saved money and pay for bills.  I don't have to worry how I will pay bills, but I do worry about how long it will take me to recoup savings.  

The "Talk"

We have blow-outs in this house.  Not between me and D, as we are adults who know when to back the heck off.  The blow-outs are between me and the kids:

*Me and N when she fidgets and putzes and gets cranky when learning a new piano piece and wails, "This is too hard!" and is generally uncooperative.  (Being a complete arse when she would never, ever dream of being this way with her piano teacher.)

*Me and G when he continues to pester his siblings after I have repeatedly asked him not to do so.  When he smacks M in the back, ignoring his younger brother's cries to stop.

When D and I first saw the movie Mystery Men, he told me I am Ben Stiller's character, "Volcano."  I get my panties in a twist, lose it (especially when dealing with completely irrational people) and then I'm ok.

But I don't particularly want my children to be as I am, the "ticking time bomb of fury."

So what happens after mommy loses her shit is that I calm down and N or G calms down and then we talk about what happened.  I apologize for becoming so angry but explain why their behavior frustrated me.  We, more or less, "kiss and make-up."

The other day after a blow-up with N over piano practice, we went up to her room and, I believe, screamed into her pillow a few times.  When she came downstairs, she asked if she could go into the basement and watch tv.  I agreed.  Then she said, "When you get done, will you come down and have The Talk with me?"  I said, "The Talk?"  She replied, "You know, when you say your sorry..."

When she said this, it kinda pissed me off.  That I'm the one saying "I'm sorry" and coming to her to see if she is ok.  That she expects this to happen.

It also saddened me.  That I blow up in the first place, necessitating "The Talk" afterwards.

So we talked, and I told her I don't like that I become so frustrated, but I do.  Because she doesn't behave the same way with me as she does with her piano instructor.  Because she always becomes frustrated with a piece of music as she's learning it (and takes it out on me), but then feels proud of herself once she knows it and can play it well.

Through our talk, it became apparent that her behavior was mostly due to getting an orthodontic appliance earlier in the day and feeling worried that her friends at school would make fun of her.  So we talked about that.

And then we gave each other a kiss and hugged.  After dinner she had a good piano practice with a good attitude.

I've continued to mull that talk over and all the various "talks" we've had.  It hurts my parental pride a bit to say I'm sorry, but at the same time, I know that it is this consideration and communication that   keep relationships mostly satisfying.  And I hope that my family, as the kids grow, is one in which we can disagree but remember that we love each other and we've got each others' backs.  That none of us is perfect.  That sometimes "volcanoes" do occur and it isn't the end of the world.  That we forgive each other for being human.