Tonight N asked me to play Polly Pockets with her after I put M to bed (D and G were playing in the sandbox).
Within about 4 seconds of me sitting on the floor, N started talking about how a girl she was in class with last year (and who she just adored and considered her "best friend") is now in a different class and has been playing with another girl instead of N during recess. And that she feels sad and angry about it.
It was a rare occasion that I didn't know what to say.
But I've never parented a child through elementary school friendship weirdness.
I lived it, to be sure.
So I flubbered along and shared how I had a friend who often left me hanging in order to play with another girl, and how that made me feel sad too. (Of course I was considerably older than N but the feeling of being abandoned, disliked and like shit are still the same.)
And so I'm out of my element here.
I know what to do with a toddler and a preschooler and a kindergartener.
But I'm a little dumbstruck by a 1st grader who opens up about feeling sad and angry with a friend.
And I want to fix it, but there is only so much a mama can do.
So I'll just listen and hug and hope.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Things I want my kids to know about me (Part 1)
My mom was 35 when she had me, and 38 when she had my brother. And when I was a kid that just seemed so flippin ancient. Now, as I quickly approach my 37th birthday, I realize how young my mom was. But I can never know her as she was at that time because I was too young to remember. And the person she is at age 72 is certainly not who she was almost 37 years ago.
So I began thinking what I would like my kids to know about me as I was raising them. What I enjoyed. What gave me pleasure. What I thought about. My blogging will, of course, give them a huge insight into me, but I thought it might be a good idea to jot down some things in a more organized way so they don't have to read all of my blogs since I hope they do have a life.
1. Why I didn't take their dad's name
I married at 24 years old, which I now think of as being entirely too young. I hope my kids wait until they are 27+ to marry. I just think I didn't even begin to get my head screwed on properly until I was edging nearer to 30.
I wanted to get married but I HATED the idea that once I married D I would forever be thought of as part of a "we." I think this bothered me so much because I hadn't yet established "me." I also thought a lot about my mother, who married at age 33 in 1971 and changed her name. She had many, many years of establishing herself as by one name only to change it to another. I guess I feared no one would know me anymore (as I don't know lots of Facebook people who don't follow directions and use their MAIDEN names). And so D and I discussed it, and I decided not to change it. Because calling myself Carrie L just sounded foreign. And weird. And it still does when I say it inside my head. (When N's school or doctor calls and refers to me as Mrs. L, I sometimes ignore them until they've said it multiple times. I'm like, "Who the eff are they asking for?")
For awhile it prickled me whenever someone erroneously called me Mrs. L, and it REALLY bothered D whenever he was referred to as Mr. V, but now that we're approaching 13 years of marital togetherness, I don't think either of us much care what we're called. And there have been occasions when, due to my sassy mouth, I think D has been quite happy that no one could "place" me with him.
2. I like picking apples
Tonight at Mamaw's, I picked apples out of the tree in her backyard, with D holding the ladder, and N occasionally braving the steps to grab a couple off the branches, and G running after the ones that fell as I picked and pulled at branches to get at the best ones.
And I realized how much I thoroughly enjoy picking apples. Or picking strawberries. Or picking green beans. Or doing most anything related to tending to plants, gardening, or harvesting.
3. And I like to write and remember
After a recent letter to the editor I wrote was published in the local paper, N asked, "Mommy, why do you write?" And I tried to explain it in a way she would understand, but she kinda zoned out. But it made me think about writing and why I do it.
I've written stuff, reflections, diaries, whatever you want to call it, since I was about 10 years old. I have a huge plastic bin in the basement packed with journals. In high school and college, I wrote really poor poetry. And now I blog.
I have zero imagination so short stories are not my thing. I am best at writing what I know....my head, my heart. And hopefully using what is there with maybe a dash of common sense to make a point. At this point, I've been doing it for 25+ years, so it's a habit. But it kinda goes hand-in-hand with keeping my name....I write because that is inherent to who I am....it makes me feel like Carrie to write.
4. The hair or lack thereof
My hair doesn't grow long. Ever. It grows immensely thick. Like a helmet. For many, many years I tried to grow my hair out, but it always looked terrible. At some point, I accepted that some women are just born to wear their hair short, and I am one of them.
Given my lack of girly curves and my inability to wear cosmetics due to sensitive skin, I sometimes look boyish. But that is ok. Because very short hair, in addition to being super easy to care for (and I am extremely lazy when it comes to personal appearance), is also kind of edgy and suggests a certain amount of confidence. Confidence to not hide behind one's hair. Confidence to subvert the notion of what is feminine. And I like that feeling of boldness.
So I began thinking what I would like my kids to know about me as I was raising them. What I enjoyed. What gave me pleasure. What I thought about. My blogging will, of course, give them a huge insight into me, but I thought it might be a good idea to jot down some things in a more organized way so they don't have to read all of my blogs since I hope they do have a life.
1. Why I didn't take their dad's name
I married at 24 years old, which I now think of as being entirely too young. I hope my kids wait until they are 27+ to marry. I just think I didn't even begin to get my head screwed on properly until I was edging nearer to 30.
I wanted to get married but I HATED the idea that once I married D I would forever be thought of as part of a "we." I think this bothered me so much because I hadn't yet established "me." I also thought a lot about my mother, who married at age 33 in 1971 and changed her name. She had many, many years of establishing herself as by one name only to change it to another. I guess I feared no one would know me anymore (as I don't know lots of Facebook people who don't follow directions and use their MAIDEN names). And so D and I discussed it, and I decided not to change it. Because calling myself Carrie L just sounded foreign. And weird. And it still does when I say it inside my head. (When N's school or doctor calls and refers to me as Mrs. L, I sometimes ignore them until they've said it multiple times. I'm like, "Who the eff are they asking for?")
For awhile it prickled me whenever someone erroneously called me Mrs. L, and it REALLY bothered D whenever he was referred to as Mr. V, but now that we're approaching 13 years of marital togetherness, I don't think either of us much care what we're called. And there have been occasions when, due to my sassy mouth, I think D has been quite happy that no one could "place" me with him.
2. I like picking apples
Tonight at Mamaw's, I picked apples out of the tree in her backyard, with D holding the ladder, and N occasionally braving the steps to grab a couple off the branches, and G running after the ones that fell as I picked and pulled at branches to get at the best ones.
And I realized how much I thoroughly enjoy picking apples. Or picking strawberries. Or picking green beans. Or doing most anything related to tending to plants, gardening, or harvesting.
3. And I like to write and remember
After a recent letter to the editor I wrote was published in the local paper, N asked, "Mommy, why do you write?" And I tried to explain it in a way she would understand, but she kinda zoned out. But it made me think about writing and why I do it.
I've written stuff, reflections, diaries, whatever you want to call it, since I was about 10 years old. I have a huge plastic bin in the basement packed with journals. In high school and college, I wrote really poor poetry. And now I blog.
I have zero imagination so short stories are not my thing. I am best at writing what I know....my head, my heart. And hopefully using what is there with maybe a dash of common sense to make a point. At this point, I've been doing it for 25+ years, so it's a habit. But it kinda goes hand-in-hand with keeping my name....I write because that is inherent to who I am....it makes me feel like Carrie to write.
4. The hair or lack thereof
My hair doesn't grow long. Ever. It grows immensely thick. Like a helmet. For many, many years I tried to grow my hair out, but it always looked terrible. At some point, I accepted that some women are just born to wear their hair short, and I am one of them.
Given my lack of girly curves and my inability to wear cosmetics due to sensitive skin, I sometimes look boyish. But that is ok. Because very short hair, in addition to being super easy to care for (and I am extremely lazy when it comes to personal appearance), is also kind of edgy and suggests a certain amount of confidence. Confidence to not hide behind one's hair. Confidence to subvert the notion of what is feminine. And I like that feeling of boldness.
Touching trucks
A nearby community held a Touch-A-Truck event, a free event for kids that allowed them to sit in and investigate all kinds of vehicles---fire trucks, police cars, backhoe loaders, big rigs, tow trucks, dump trucks, school buses, tanks, street sweepers, and more.
Aside from the air horns (which led to both of them walking around holding their hands over their ears periodically), they both had a blast. M was, as usual, just along for the ride.
Aside from the air horns (which led to both of them walking around holding their hands over their ears periodically), they both had a blast. M was, as usual, just along for the ride.
They make me laugh
My kids have been on a funny streak the past week or so. Saying or doing cute things.
G will be 3 in a month, so he is chock full of amusing insights, interesting pronunciations, and wicked cute comebacks. Like the other day I asked him to bring me the dvd remote. He brought it over, and I said, "Oh you found it. You're so smart." He replied, "No, I cute."
Later that day he said something in the car I couldn't understand. I can't remember if I asked again what he said or if he just noticed the puzzled silence in the car, but he responded, "I know wha I talk about."
G loves sweets and treats of all kinds. One day when I asked what he wanted to eat he asked, "Can I have some junk?"
And then today when he and N were playing Barbies with D, he kept asking D to "Make him tall," whenever the Ken doll would be in a sitting position and G wanted him to stand back up again.
N is mostly attitude but she is developing physical abilities that I have been trying to jot down.
Within the past few weeks, N learned how to blow bubbles when chewing gum. She has a serious addiction to gum, so I don't purchase it too often---she goes through a pack a day. Tonight she wowed us with her hula-hooping skills which have gone from good to great since last summer.
And when she was playing Barbies with the guys one of the dolls was on top of D's head (I'm not sure why). But the "doll" said, "Man, this is deep." (referring to D's hair)
Last but not least is M, the slobbery, funky-crawling mess of a baby, who is pulling up on everything. He don't say much that is funny, and his physical abilities are pretty lame, but he is a total doll.
G will be 3 in a month, so he is chock full of amusing insights, interesting pronunciations, and wicked cute comebacks. Like the other day I asked him to bring me the dvd remote. He brought it over, and I said, "Oh you found it. You're so smart." He replied, "No, I cute."
Later that day he said something in the car I couldn't understand. I can't remember if I asked again what he said or if he just noticed the puzzled silence in the car, but he responded, "I know wha I talk about."
G loves sweets and treats of all kinds. One day when I asked what he wanted to eat he asked, "Can I have some junk?"
And then today when he and N were playing Barbies with D, he kept asking D to "Make him tall," whenever the Ken doll would be in a sitting position and G wanted him to stand back up again.
N is mostly attitude but she is developing physical abilities that I have been trying to jot down.
Within the past few weeks, N learned how to blow bubbles when chewing gum. She has a serious addiction to gum, so I don't purchase it too often---she goes through a pack a day. Tonight she wowed us with her hula-hooping skills which have gone from good to great since last summer.
And when she was playing Barbies with the guys one of the dolls was on top of D's head (I'm not sure why). But the "doll" said, "Man, this is deep." (referring to D's hair)
Last but not least is M, the slobbery, funky-crawling mess of a baby, who is pulling up on everything. He don't say much that is funny, and his physical abilities are pretty lame, but he is a total doll.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Brain dump..here we go.....
I have gotten to the point that I keep a pad/pen in the car and in my diaper bag so that I can jot down an idea or something I need to get done whenever the thought floats through my head. If I don't, it is gone and doesn't come back until I am wet & soapy in the shower. And by the time I'm out, dry and dressed, the thought is long gone.
At the moment, I've got a couple ideas safely stored so I'm going to download. Right here. Right now.
1. The NYC brouhaha over the Muslim community center at Ground Zero and President Obama.
I've got no dog in the race so my opinion matters not. But one of the things that has long rankled me about the US and its "public face" is that we come off as a spoiled teenager, quick to speak, very, very slow to think, lacking wisdom and maturity. There is no question we are a great country, but we are imperfect and, worse, we are unable to admit our imperfections. That's one of the reasons I like President Obama---because I think he understands that the reason some countries despise us and the general feeling about the US under W was horrible is because the US acted like a cocky son of a bitch.
I like the idea of the Muslim community center at Ground Zero because it spits in the eye of every person out there who brainwashes others into thinking the US hates Muslims. It shows our ability to transcend destruction, loss, and fear. I like to believe that everyone who died on September 11 in NYC is in possession now of an understanding of love, light and meaning that those of us left on Earth can't wrap our heads around. And that they would think being forgiving, not lingering on what happened in 2001 but can happen in the future, is what is important.
2. This is How I Do It....
Sometimes I'm asked how I can possibly have time to blog or write for a local magazine with 3 kids. And my answer to that is, "I do not watch tv." So from 8-10:30 or so when I lug my butt up to bed, I have the opportunity to write if the mood strikes me. I stopped watching tv regularly when Seinfeld went off the air. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not missing much. I'd much rather read other people's thoughts that they've blogged or catch up with friends' comings & goings on Facebook than watch Snookie or the Kardashians or reality "stars."
3. I keep thinking about money---saving it, spending it. Obsess much?
It dawned on me the other day that part of the reason I feel broke is that I have purchased Christmas gifts already for my nieces and nephews but I haven't yet "paid myself back" out of my Christmas savings account. And I've been purchasing super cheap size 4T summer clothes for G for next year but the money is being spent now.
Today I purchased party supplies for the boys' shared birthday party in early October. It seems a little early, yes, since it is still August, but I send invitations 4 weeks in advance, so that means I will need to mail them out within 2 weeks. And if I'm going to drive to the store to get invitations, I may as well get the plates, napkins and cups while I'm at it, rather than making a special trip again to Factory Card Outlet.
And this is one of the problems with being a non-procrastinator. (Is there a word for a person who is not a procrastinator? An alacritator?)
Alright, so my brain wasn't as full as it felt.
I'm sure when I hit the shower in the few minutes thoughts will come spewing out all over the place.
At the moment, I've got a couple ideas safely stored so I'm going to download. Right here. Right now.
1. The NYC brouhaha over the Muslim community center at Ground Zero and President Obama.
I've got no dog in the race so my opinion matters not. But one of the things that has long rankled me about the US and its "public face" is that we come off as a spoiled teenager, quick to speak, very, very slow to think, lacking wisdom and maturity. There is no question we are a great country, but we are imperfect and, worse, we are unable to admit our imperfections. That's one of the reasons I like President Obama---because I think he understands that the reason some countries despise us and the general feeling about the US under W was horrible is because the US acted like a cocky son of a bitch.
I like the idea of the Muslim community center at Ground Zero because it spits in the eye of every person out there who brainwashes others into thinking the US hates Muslims. It shows our ability to transcend destruction, loss, and fear. I like to believe that everyone who died on September 11 in NYC is in possession now of an understanding of love, light and meaning that those of us left on Earth can't wrap our heads around. And that they would think being forgiving, not lingering on what happened in 2001 but can happen in the future, is what is important.
2. This is How I Do It....
Sometimes I'm asked how I can possibly have time to blog or write for a local magazine with 3 kids. And my answer to that is, "I do not watch tv." So from 8-10:30 or so when I lug my butt up to bed, I have the opportunity to write if the mood strikes me. I stopped watching tv regularly when Seinfeld went off the air. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not missing much. I'd much rather read other people's thoughts that they've blogged or catch up with friends' comings & goings on Facebook than watch Snookie or the Kardashians or reality "stars."
3. I keep thinking about money---saving it, spending it. Obsess much?
It dawned on me the other day that part of the reason I feel broke is that I have purchased Christmas gifts already for my nieces and nephews but I haven't yet "paid myself back" out of my Christmas savings account. And I've been purchasing super cheap size 4T summer clothes for G for next year but the money is being spent now.
Today I purchased party supplies for the boys' shared birthday party in early October. It seems a little early, yes, since it is still August, but I send invitations 4 weeks in advance, so that means I will need to mail them out within 2 weeks. And if I'm going to drive to the store to get invitations, I may as well get the plates, napkins and cups while I'm at it, rather than making a special trip again to Factory Card Outlet.
And this is one of the problems with being a non-procrastinator. (Is there a word for a person who is not a procrastinator? An alacritator?)
Alright, so my brain wasn't as full as it felt.
I'm sure when I hit the shower in the few minutes thoughts will come spewing out all over the place.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
First day of school, Butterfly Festival and the pot
My big 1st grader.
She refuses to let me put a brick on her head so she'll stop growing up.
Special times with the kids, waiting for the bus.
Play time with just the boys while N is off at school.
A local nature preserve held a Butterfly Festival this weekend. I took the kids as well as my MIL and niece. The kids were able to see butterflies close up in a tent, catch butterflies & moths in flower gardens and fields, and do a butterfly craft. And it was free. And I LOVE FREE!!!
Oh yeah, and we are s.l.o.w.l.y making the most minimal of progress on potty-training.
Breathing again
N started school this past Tuesday, and I feel like a weight was lifted.
I felt the weight of worry lift----worry that she was bored, worry that her brain was slowly rotting away because of watching too much tv, worry that she was feeling neglected because it is simply a necessity that the boys (being so much younger and dependent) require more of my time and care.
I knew she would be happy with her friends, having consistent and scheduled activities and classes, being able to run and play outside freely without being told to "slow down" or "wait for your brother."
And I was able to do things with the boys that was their "speed," like letting G play for an hour in the sandbox without whisking him away to keep his older sister occupied. Letting M crawl around the patio and explore. (Plus, we have been fortunate to have some cooler mornings this week, which made the patio absolutely lovely in the morning shade.) Walking them over to the road construction site so G could watch the bulldozers without having to listen to his sister complain about being there. Letting G watch The Letter Factory dvd repeatedly without hearing N screech that she is sick to death of it. (And darn if he isn't learning all his letter sounds too from this dvd, just like N did when she was his age! That dvd is a damn miracle, I tell you!)
And the best, most needed thing is that the boys either nap at the same time (if M doesn't take a morning nap) or overlap naps, so that I get at least an hour of absolute quiet time in the middle of the day to recharge my batteries.
It feels good to have a routine, a plan, a better, stronger, more definite structure to the days.
I felt the weight of worry lift----worry that she was bored, worry that her brain was slowly rotting away because of watching too much tv, worry that she was feeling neglected because it is simply a necessity that the boys (being so much younger and dependent) require more of my time and care.
I knew she would be happy with her friends, having consistent and scheduled activities and classes, being able to run and play outside freely without being told to "slow down" or "wait for your brother."
And I was able to do things with the boys that was their "speed," like letting G play for an hour in the sandbox without whisking him away to keep his older sister occupied. Letting M crawl around the patio and explore. (Plus, we have been fortunate to have some cooler mornings this week, which made the patio absolutely lovely in the morning shade.) Walking them over to the road construction site so G could watch the bulldozers without having to listen to his sister complain about being there. Letting G watch The Letter Factory dvd repeatedly without hearing N screech that she is sick to death of it. (And darn if he isn't learning all his letter sounds too from this dvd, just like N did when she was his age! That dvd is a damn miracle, I tell you!)
And the best, most needed thing is that the boys either nap at the same time (if M doesn't take a morning nap) or overlap naps, so that I get at least an hour of absolute quiet time in the middle of the day to recharge my batteries.
It feels good to have a routine, a plan, a better, stronger, more definite structure to the days.
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