My loves.....(blecccchhhhhhh)...and my theory of unintentional adoration

Despite reports to the contrary, I love my children.

I tell my children I love them every day, sometimes multiple times a day.

But I also tell my children that they are being turds, jerks, annoying, aggravating, uncooperative and pains in the butt.  Depending on how they are behaving, they might hear these statements multiple times a day, too.

On Friday, when I picked G up from school for his occupational therapy, his teacher walked him to the office, and he had his homework journal in his hands.  My first thought was, "Did he not do his homework, and she is walking him to the office to speak to me?"  My second thought was, "I'm gonna kill him."

In fact, he was simply bringing his journal home but hadn't put it in his book bag and, due to the heightened security, his teacher had walked him to the office.

My first instinct with my children is, "What have they done wrong?"

They have never given me any reason to think I should meet situations in this way, but it reminds me a lot of how my parents behaved with me.  I didn't give my parents any reason to meet situations this way either (at least until high school, and even then, it wasn't in terms of authority figures or school work....I just liked boys too much).

I sometimes post things about my kids on Facebook, and it is generally of the "weird-ass stuff my kids said" variety.  I often post things about being a mother to my children, which is of the "this is hard and definitely not what I signed up for" variety.  Sometimes I think the general perception might be that I don't like my children or this motherhood gig.  Sometimes that perception is correct.

It is not in my personality to refer to my children as "my loves" or say that "I love my kids to the moon and back."  Such statements sound far too adoring to me and to use them, even if I say them in my own head, like I just did, kinda makes me gag a bit.

Sometimes I wonder how the language one uses on social media is picked up by kids.  I suspect it is.....because the language one uses on Facebook is how a person thinks, even if they only put up the "good and/or fake" parts of their lives.

I sometimes feel rather guilty because I am sarcastic, because I don't lavish praise on my kids.  I worry that my kids might feel like they can't be good enough in my eyes or that I have such high expectations they will never live up to them.

But as I consider on it more,  I think I would rather err on this side than on the side of my kids thinking I adore them.   Being under the influence of unintentional adoration would have to be just as heavy as whatever sarcastic weight I throw my kids under as a result of my own personality quirks.  

All the things I want to say in relation to the heightened security

Today there is a nonspecific threat against the schools in my area.  I get the sense it is similar to the threats in NYC and LA.  Our schools are on heightened security.

I dropped the boys off today because M needed to get his allergy shot beforehand---this was the plan before I knew about the threat so I took them to school out of an abundance of convenience, not caution.

Some parents have opted, like me, to send their kids to school, and some haven't.  That is the beauty of parenting in our society---you are mostly free to parent as you see fit, to make decisions that are in the best interest of yourself and your children.

For me, personally, I feel the best interests of my children are as follows:
1. routine and structure of school in general.
2. routine and structure of school especially in a heightened security setting when they may or may not have anxiety about all the unknowns in life.  Sending them to school lets them know that we keep living, even though life can be uncertain and scary.  (Life is uncertain and scary even when there isn't a nonspecific threat.)

I have posted some things on FB in an effort to interject a more rational, reasonable consideration into the mix.  Many of the posts I have seen on Facebook would, if they could, actually make a screeching sound.  A high-pitched tone of "What are YOU going to do?" or "How many of YOU are sending your kids to school?"

As a person who lives with heightened anxiety everyday of her life, I cannot make fun of people who are so freaked out that they opt to keep their kids at home.  I can't make fun of their fear.  But I do wish they would make a different choice for a variety of reasons, the biggest one being that they are allowing their own anxiety to infiltrate into their kids.  Still, it is their choice and their kids.

I don't want to be catty and shitty and reactionary.  I don't want to judge people for their decisions, but I find myself being so anyway, especially when they make asinine comments about other people's choices.

Someone I know from my kids' school posted, "God gave us 6 senses and stupidity isn't one of them." This person then went on to say he is keeping his kids home today.  I had to laugh at his comment because 1. there are 5 senses and 2. his statement suggests that people who send their kids to school today are stupid.  I suggest that people who don't realize there are actually 5 senses might want to reconsider whom they call stupid.  Furthermore, I know this person's child has special tutoring for math each week when I volunteer (so I witness this with my own eyes).  I hope he works with her on her math today while she is at home with him.

That is both funny and pathetic.....on my part and his, I think.

The truth is that if something were to happen to any of my kids as a result of the nonspecific threat at school, I would be devastated.  But if something were to happen to any of my kids in a car accident while I was driving them to the grocery, I would be devastated (and this is a MUCH more likely scenario).  If they were to be shot when I took them to a movie theater, I would be devastated.  (Honestly, I was more concerned when D took N to see the new Star Wars movie over winter break at the new, very packed theater near our house than I am about this school thing).

I am going to die, and my children are going to die, and there isn't really much I can do about it.  I could maybe, possibly, postpone it, if it was a disease, but death is a fact.  A scary, troubling, heartbreaking fact.  

No amount of keeping them home is going to change that.  

Potty language in da house!

I happen to be a fan of the occasional use of curse words to accentuate a point or inject some humor or lightness into a discussion.  However, the overuse of curse words makes a person sound like an idiot.  This is not a fine-line thing.  There is a vast chasm between witty use of foul language and what might be typified as redneck use.

My sons have discovered curse words, and I am happy to say that, despite my occasional use of such words (typically in a reaction to some boy thing they have done in an effort to destroy and/or defile the house), their interest in these words has stemmed from riding the school bus.

I have been asked about the word "fec" and have explained that "fec" means for a man to put his penis in a woman's vagina.  I have had to repeat this definition at least twice.  The boys are totally nonchalant about this, while N runs into the other room saying, "OH MY GOD, I'M NOT LISTENING!"

On Sunday, M said, "Mommy, I know what "ass" means.  It means your penis."

I replied with, "Do you want to know what ass means?" and he pointed at me and went, "Ahhhh" as if he hadn't just said "ass" a second before and that I was the one with a nasty potty mouth.

I explained that "ass" is his butt, his bottom, his bahoofie, and he excitedly yelled, "I was SO CLOSE!"

Yesterday, G got frustrated while playing with his Kindle, and I heard him say, "I really want to say the "S" word right now."

G occasionally watches youTube to see Minecraft videos.  Some are musical parodies (One More Fright which is a play on Maroon 5's One More Night) and are fine, but others show these teenage/young adults playing Minecraft.

G learned the terms "suck balls" and "faggot" from one such video.  He didn't ever use them; D overheard it and told me.  I discussed these words with G....ok, I discussed "faggot" because "suck balls" is rude but not something to which I would take offense.  There are many things about motherhood that, in my estimation, do feel sucky-ballish, but there is no reason to ever use the word "faggot."  When I explained that people use the word "faggot" to hurt other people's feelings, he immediately took a dislike to the word.

Maybe it is because I am an English teacher, but I feel very strongly that I want my kids to know the meanings of words and avoid making particular words "taboo."  If the kids have half of my issues, they will love anything that an authority figure urges them not to do or say, so I would be doing a disservice to myself to make a big stink over them asking about these words.

My calm, matter-of-fact approach seems to be working.  I mean, G could have actually said "shit," but he opted for the "S" word.

And....the truth is that my boys figuring out curse words is pretty darn hilarious.....even though I would never admit it to them.  

Quirks (New Years and pets and ????)

New Years is such a goofy concept.  Can we all agree (probably not) that it really is an arbitrary man-made delineation of time that doesn't actually mean anything?

So I don't get all hoopty-hoop over NYE, although I do superstitiously eat cabbage on NYD because my parents, who are as frugal as they come, always serve cabbage in the hopes that it will bring more wealth.  We aren't going to my parents this year on NYD, so I bought egg rolls.  I'm not cooking a whole head of cabbage.

My own NYD on which to be better than I was before (bigger, stronger, faster) begins on the Monday that the kids and husband resume their school and work schedules.  I can resume normalcy.  I can go to the gym every day if I want (I don't and won't, but I could....).  I can toss out all the Christmas cookies and hide all the candy (if I don't see it, I don't eat it.)  I can get back into the routine that allows me to clean my house (with all of us here for 2 weeks, it is just pointless for me to clean up much).

This isn't to say it has been a bad winter break.  It has been pretty good, but I think the best thing for sticking to resolutions (if I were the type of person to make such things) is a routine in which to put them.

But I don't make resolutions, partly because there is no real meaning to the arbitrary NYD and partly because if everyone else is making resolutions then I definitely don't want to be part of that.

Another of my weird quirks is my philosophy of pet names (a book club friend's post about her new dog made me think about it).

I had a pretty strict name philosophy about the kids' names.  They had to be names that could not be shortened/nicknamed.  I love the name Catherine, but I dislike Kate, Katey, Kathy and/or Kat. I realize that some children do manage not to get stuck in the nickname rut, but it seems like it is a constant battle, and I'm not that diligent.  When D and I threw this requirement in with his requirement that they be names that people had heard but very infrequently, it got pretty dicey.

My requirements with pet names is that they have to not be human names, and they have to be a little oddball.  Shanks was named after the Jane Yolen's book King Long Shanks.  Gonzo was named after the Muppet and Hunter S. Thompson (gonzo journalism).  Our new kitties are Slippers and Skits (short for skittish).  Other names that I think make great pet names:

Flotsom
Narf
Nerdle / Nurdle (this is actually my cousin's dog's name, and I love it)
Yurtle
Floob
Plotz
Skeets
Poit
Stoob

My friend named her dog Larry, which is actually a name that I prefer as a pet name instead of a human name.  Maybe because Larry is a nickname for Lawrence, and I so dislike nicknames?

(Of course, I should say I feel about all these things the way I do about chino pants.  I don't like them in my own life, but I certainly don't really care what other people name their kids and/or their pets or wear on their bottom halves.  Do what you want....

Fitness philosophy (resolving not to kill myself working out)

I started to write "I hate to exercise," but that is not true, really.

What I hate is working out in a gym or my basement and using a machine and/or tools that were invented for the sole purpose of exercising.  I do not get into a "zone" from this.  I listen to music and mostly suffer through excruciating boredom.

I pay $14.99 a month for a gym membership and use it about 2-3 times a month.

It occurred to me, in the early fall when I was spending about 83% of my life up at the kids' elementary school weeding and planting flowers and laying weed-block fabric and spreading mulch, that anyone who pays for a gym membership but does NOT do their own yard work might not be hitting on all cylinders.

A few years ago I dug a trench in my backyard to put in a French drainage tile.  I basically walked less than 3 feet to dig the dirt and dump it nearby.  But I walked less than 3 feet about 4,000 times and ended up showing something like 2.5 miles walked on my Fitbit.

My yard is only .25 acre, but when I traipse back and forth across it pushing the lawnmower it adds up to quite a bit of mileage.

And housework....that is good exercise, too.

I don't understand paying someone to clean one's house and then paying for a gym membership, either.  Vacuuming all 3 levels in my house in one day, including carrying the vacuum up and down two flights of steps is a workout.  Or moving furniture and mopping the first floor???  I sweat a lot more doing this than I ever do at the gym.

My mindset has changed a lot in the past few years about fitness.  For a few years, I was trying to get a nicer body, especially after having M in 2009.....flatten my abs, mostly.  But then I used a trainer who is a female in her 50s, and she helped me recognize that fitness isn't just being able to benchpress 200 lbs.  Fitness, especially as a person ages, must involve balance and stability.  As a person ages, if she falls, it can be devastating to her overall health.

Plus, what I've realized is that I can workout like crazy to have flat abs, but my body is still going to age.  I can have the abs I want, but I'm still going to have wrinkles and not look like a 25-year-old.  My breasts are going to sag without surgical intervention.  I am going to have that weird flabby flap between my arm and armpit (right at the bra line) when my arms are at my side.

This acknowledgment has helped me rethink how much time and energy I want to spend on trying to make myself look 20 years younger. I'm at the point where I'm pretty happy if my triglycerides and cholesterol are good and my A1C is in a healthy range.  If I can get enough exercise to keep those in check, then that is good enough for me.

I look at my mother as an example of fitness.  She walks 2 miles or more every day, preferably outside since treadmills are boring (her words, not mine).   I think she has started using some small 2 lb weights in the past year.  She is 77 years old and looks really darn good, I think.  

The love affair with Geronimo Stilton

It is interesting to me to see the kids' tastes develop as readers.

As new readers, neither N nor G stuck with The Magic Treehouse series for very long, although they both enjoyed them for a time (this was kind of a bummer to me because I rather enjoyed them.)

N was big into Junie B. Jones in early elementary (and I enjoyed Junie's wit and mouth, although I probably would not had those words been coming out of my actual child's mouth).  She dabbled in the Puppy Place series and Thea Stilton, but nothing really stuck.  I threw Newbury winners at her (and still do) and even though she fought me (and still does), she was (and is) always crazy about the book by the time she got a chapter or two in.

G has been on a Geronimo Stilton reading kick this school year.

Since school began he has read these:
#3 Cat and Mouse in a Haunted House
#6 Paws Off, Cheddarface!
#14 The Temple of the Ruby of Fire
#18 Shipwreck on the Pirate Islands
#46 The Haunted Castle

He sorta fought reading chapter books, so I am very happy he has taken to these books and continues checking them out.  He is a big fantasy, mystical creature lover so when he saw these mentioned in the back of one of the other books, he was very keen to read them.  I hightailed it to the local Scholastic warehouse sale and bought him the three in this series that I could find.

This is the one he is reading now.  It is a little like The Fellowship of the Ring.  There is a giant, the king of the fairies (who appears as a deer) and Puss in Boots.  D and I take turns having G read to us at night, so I can't follow the story much more closely than that.

These are the other two he will read.

We sent in for a special "gift" from Geronimo and got this back.  G was pretty excited to get it and specifically mentioned that Geronimo says writing stories isn't as hard as you think.  

One of the things I like about these books is the way some of the words are highlighted, colored, or in unusual fonts.  Not all of the words are big or difficult or mean anything particularly helpful, but some are/do.  If nothing else, the unusual lettering makes the reader pay attention because the word might be important.  Or it might just be cool the way the font mimics what the word is, like "frozen" is done in white/blue and looks like ice.  

G is enough of a vested reader that he has asked me to define a number of words that he has read in the Geronimo books, which is a good sign, I think.  He cares enough and/or is paying attention enough to want to know.  

So until it ends, the love affair will continue....

As close as I'm ever gonna get to doing Pinterest-y, elf-on-the-shelfy stuff

I mucho disliko Christmas.

I dislike the clutter of putting up and then taking down decorations within a month's time.  I dislike abhor the shopping.  I dislike the fretting over whether my children will be satisfied with what Santa brings them.  I dislike the busyness.  I dislike feeling like I have to make every second of the season so special.

As a result of these feelings, I do not engage in any type of Christmas tomfoolery.

Though I wish G didn't have anxiety, at Christmas I am happy for it because he is terrified of the elf-on-the-shelf.  He thinks they are weird and creepy and would throw an absolute duck-fit if I even considered bringing one into our house.

This is a win-win for me because I don't want to spend money on one, and I definitely don't want to have to think up activities for the elf that involve additional clutter and mess-making.  Some moms have gotten to the point where the elf has a broken leg and can't move.  I suspect my rage would somehow land the elf with a butter knife shoved in his gut.

However, this year, G set me a task that I did feel like I needed to address in a somewhat creative way.

He and his siblings wrote letters to Santa, which are answered by our local township/city, but he had included a very specific question in his letter.  The fine folks who respond to the hundreds, and maybe even thousands of letters from kids, do not have the time, money, or patience to answer my son's specific question.

So I did.

Here was his question to Santa:

And here is how Santa responded:

Writing creatively while sitting on my butt....I can do.