Orange Rhino Challenge, 2 Week Update

Two weeks ago, I committed to trying the Rhino Challenge.

Believe it or not, things have actually been going pretty well.

I've been able to stay in the 0-3 range 90% of the time, with the occasional "oopsie" snap. I think I've had one or two that might be considered the nasty snap, but I was able to calm myself down and redirect before reaching the yell. (Explanation of yells types here)

For me, just decided that "it is not okay" to yell and then vowing to report if I do, seems to be pretty effective. Committing to keep accountable by writing it up in my blog adds that layer of being watched (even if only virtually and only by the 2 or 3 people that actually read this thing), and I would never yell around most people because of the "they would think I was a horrible mom" complex.

Bad Mom Confession

The morning started out fine.

A typical Monday morning, no one wanted to get up after two days of sleeping in.

Mommy Dearest

Thing 2, usually the more difficult of the two to get up, got up and going with just a little resistance. I smartly got him motivated to get ready by reminding him that it was his sharing day at school (basically show and tell, but the teacher gives them a theme of what to bring in).

Thing 1, usually the easier to rouse of the two, kept trying to crawl back under the sheets. I had to physically dress him myself with him pulling against me. Once he was dressed, I sent him off to brush his teeth, while Thing 2 and I headed to the basement to find a sphere, a cube, a cylinder, and a cone. (Yes, I really should have taken care of this this weekend, but I forgot. Bad mom move #1.)

When we came upstairs, we put Thing 2's items in his book bag and I quickly got on his coat, hat, and gloves (of course it was freezing this morning!). Again, he is usually the harder of the two to do these tasks, so I was pleased it was going so quickly.

But then all hell broke loose! Thing 1 was crying hysterically in the bathroom "But I didn't brush my teeth yet." (P.S. I had left him in the bathroom with instructions to brush his teeth BEFORE we had headed downstairs on our shapes' scavenger hunt.)

I snapped! "Why didn't you brush your teeth? Fine, I'll brush your teeth for you. I dressed you like a baby. Now I'll brush your teeth like your a baby. Are you a baby or a big boy? You should be doing this stuff for yourself."

Of course then he is crying. (Bad mom move #2.)

We leave the bathroom and I am fervently trying to get his coat and hat and gloves on him. Of course I'm having to put them on for him, because he is crying because I basically called him a baby. :(

Then just as we are heading to the door, we see the school bus...drive by.  Grrr!

So, me, worst mom ever turns to Thing 1 and says "Great! Now you made us miss the bus!" So his sniffling cry turns into FULL BLOWN HYSTERICS!

GOD, I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON!

I go out and start the car. (Which at this point he is sobbing uncontrollably because he thinks I'm leaving him.)

Then I come back in and tear around the house getting the rest of my stuff together for work, so I can drop them at school on my way to work.

With my jacket on, purse on my arm, lunch box in my hand, I look over at my son and think "My god, what have I done?"

I sit down on the couch and ask him to come to me. We hug and I say "I'm so sorry I hurt your feelings. Of course you aren't a baby. And it's not your fault we missed the bus. It's mommy's fault because I should have gotten you up earlier. I am just frustrated and I'm taking it out on you. But I'm not really frustrated with you. Do you understand." He nods his head, but of course he doesn't.

"I love you so much. And I'm so sorry I was being mean. Sometimes mommy gets frustrated and loses her temper and can be mean. I really hate that about myself. Do you forgive me." He nods his head and hugs me tighter.

And I feel like the worst person ever because I KNOW what I do. I know I have a temper. I know I handled the situation badly and even though I've apologized, I can't erase what I've already said. I can't erase that he (and my other son) saw my behavior. I don't want them to learn to act that way. I don't want them to inherit my temper and my ability to fly off the handle.

But, I guess the silver lining (to me at least) is that I am big enough to see my faults and #1 apologize for them and #2 admit them to my sons. I hope that I am teaching them that you have to apologize when you hurt someone and you have to own up to your bad behavior. I just hope that rubs off on them more than my actual bad behavior.

Spank you very much

A facebook friend recently posted this:

Let me begin by saying: I got my butt smacked and survived.

Heck, I have a very sarcastic mouth, so I got much more than my butt smacked!  And I still survived.  And I still love my parents.

But I choose not to use corporal punishment with my children.  And here is why:

#1 I don't want my children seeing violence as a solution.

When Thing 1 and 2 get upset and hit one another, one of my first responses is "DO NOT HIT YOUR BROTHER!"  And we make the boys come together and talk through their issues.  We discuss that if someone is doing something to bother you, you should 1. ask them to stop,  2. tell them you need some space,  3. walk away from them if they won't walk away from you,  4. get a grown up.  In that order.

Does it work all of the time?  No.  But it does work most of the time.

But what about me?  I (along with Superman) am their #1 role model.  What do they learn if I get ticked at something they do and instead of talking it out with them, I reach over and smack their hand or whack their butt.  What have I taught them?

My lips are saying "do not hit people when they do something you don't like" but my actions are saying "it's okay to hit people when they do something you don't like."

Is it hard not to spank?  YES!!  Good god!  Lord knows I have a temper (thanks dad!) and when I get mad at them for being little butts, you'd better believe I want to haul off and smack those rear ends!  In fact, a time or two, I have been so upset and frustrated and mad that I have.

But I know in my heart that that reaction isn't right for me.  It is allowing my anger to control my actions, rather than controlling my anger and dealing rationally with the situation.

#2 I don't think it works.


My parents were spankers.  Spankers, slappers, whippers...nothing abusive, but lets just say my butt was no stranger to the hand or another available object (yes, there was a wire hanger incident).  And I even got backhanded across the face a few times for sarcastic comments. (P.S. Moms and Dads, if you yourself are sarcastic, there is a more than good chance that your kids will learn to be sarcastic too.  Heads up!)

But let me tell you this.  Spanking hurts...for a few minutes.  (My parents never really hit me hard enough to cause major bruising or long lasting pain.)  Then it's over.  You go in your room, cry for a few minutes, then pick up a book.  You give your parents the silent treatment for a few hours, but mostly...no big deal.  Back to life as normal.

But you know what was torture?  Being grounded.  Or being grounded from the tv.  Or the worst of the worst: Having my phone privileges taken away.  Ah man!  I can remember it now, getting a phone call from one of my best friends and hearing my dad say "No, Amber can't come to the phone right now. She is grounded from the phone." Torture!


So when Thing 1 purposefully hit Thing 2 the other day with his new tee-ball bat because "he wasn't moving out of my way and I didn't like that", we didn't spank him.  We took away his bat, put him in time out for 5 minutes while we tended to Thing 2.  Then we told Thing 2 to tell Thing 1 how being hit with the bat made him feel.  And then we told Thing 1 "no baseball for 3 days."  Good grief, the crying that ensued.  You'd have thought I beat the kid with the baseball bat myself.  And over the next 3 days, almost every time he asked to go play ball or went to pick up a bat, ball, or glove, it was evident that this long term punishment effected him much greater than had I done what I really wanted to do (which was spank his little butt!!).

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Look, I'm not saying my way is right and the other way is wrong.  Two of my closest friends are some of the best moms I know, and they both spank their kids with no regrets. I would never say about them "oh, they just don't know how to control their anger" or "they just take the easy way out and spank their kid" or "they are teaching their kids to be violent."  We have had discussions about spanking and they have their justifications for doing it, and I have voiced my justifications for why we don't (or try not to ;).  But in the end, we all have to make the decisions that feel right for us and our families.


I would just encourage parents to think thoughtfully about why you choose the discipline measures you choose.  Because if you thoughtfully consider which method you most believe in and feel works best for your family, then that is the right decision!


Oh, and P.S. to go back to the original comment...Superman was never spanked a day in his life.  He was a model kid (a parent's dream!) and has turned out to be an ace teacher, a fantastic father, and committed husband.  So, I refute the insinuation that kids who aren't spanked are undisciplined and not respectful. Superman is proof that you can discipline without corporal punishment and still raise a lovely, law-abiding, rule following, respectful, contributing member of society. :)

Happy Mother's Day

All I wanted for Mother's Day was to have a super fun day with my kids, not doing any work, not cleaning, not telling anyone to pick anything up...

So we are headed to an indoor water park for the day.  (Shh...don't tell Thing 1 and Thing 2, because it's going to be a surprise!)

Meanwhile, yesterday I got an early Mother's Day present.  I just love things like these questionnaires, where the teachers ask the kids the questions, and then write down exactly what the children say.

I'll have to remember to do some for Superman for Father's Day.  The kids are always out of school for the summer, so he kind of gets hosed.

Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

They are amazingly accurate.  Thing 1 does call me Mom.  Thing 2 does call me Amber and Mommy.  My favorite color is red.  And while I'm no Ron Swanson, I have discussed with Thing 1 that we are not vegetarians because we like meat too much. :)

I do think it's funny how one thinks I'm short and one thinks I'm tall.  Tall compared to them, short compared to daddy. :)

Bring you brat to work day

I had an incredibly bad morning.

I'm not naming names, but one of my sons was being so grouchy and grumpy this morning that I wanted to drop kick him off the back porch.

All I could think of was I can't wait to drop this kid off at preschool and get him away from me.

Instead, I filled his back pack with books and crayons and said "You are going to work with me today."

The other one immediately said "Hey, I wanna go to work with you."  But I told him that he was going to school, and only his brother would be coming with me.

I don't know if this is the answer to an overly grumpy child.  But I'm doing what my intuition as a mom told me to do.  I feel like part of this kid's issue is that maybe he just wants some attention.  One problem with having twins is that they almost always do everything together.  Usually when I give their dad a break, I do something with BOTH of them.  And vice versa.  It's much more rare for us to set aside specific one on one time.  It usually only happens in the form of grocery shopping.

Okay, so bringing him to work is not the most fun one on one time.  But I'm trying to make it fun for him.

On the way in, we stopped at the convenience store and I let him pick out a Hostess snack and a jug of milk (of course he picked strawberry).  Now he's sitting and "reading" while I work.  Later on just the two of us will go eat lunch where ever he wants.  And this afternoon I'll probably let him put some quarters in the junk food machine. (Which I've never let him do before).

I'm disappointed at myself for losing my temper with him this morning.  But I'm proud of myself for deciding to handle this situation by not punishing him, but trying to figure out what the real problem is (his need for attention) and fixing it by giving him something he is needing.

Why my kids will ride the bus

Last night, Superman and I went to Kindergarten Open House at our sons' soon-to-be-Elementary-school.

We were very happy to meet the principal and their future teachers, and learn more about the school where Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be attending in the fall. And they were beyond excited to meet their future classmates and do lots of activities and play games.

But one thing that happened struck me as very odd.  During the school tour, the principal took us to the school entrance and proceeded to spend nearly 20 minutes explaining the complicated pick up/drop off procedure.  Superman and I kept looking at each other, wondering if we were missing something.  Did we have to pick up the kids every day?  She was talking to us as if it was assumed we'd all be picking up and dropping off.

Finally, we raised our hands and said "What about the kids riding the bus?"  And then she spent about 3 minutes explaining the bus procedure.  And we were happy with the explanation.

Afterwards, another parent came up to me, and this was the gist of our conversation:

Concerned Parent: Are you going to let your child ride the bus?
Me: Yes.
CP: We thought about it, but I just don't know....How would he know what bus to get on, or where the bus stop is?
Me: Well, um, I imagine the kids will follow the other elementary kids in the neighborhood and get on with them.
Superman: Also, you can call the school and ask.
CP: They know other kids who ride the bus?
Me: Yes, our neighbors' kids ride the bus.  They play outside with them almost everyday, so they know them pretty well.
CP: Aren't you afraid they'll get on the wrong bus in the afternoon?
Me: Not really. Kids learn pretty quickly who their bus driver is. If they started to get on a bus and didn't recognize the driver, or the other kids on the bus, I'm pretty sure they'd get off.
CP: I'm just afraid my son would get on the wrong bus and get dropped off at the wrong place and be wandering the neighborhood frightened and alone.  (I should mention the Kindergarten has an older brother who will be in the 1st grade next year.)
Me: Did you not ride the bus as a child?
CP: Oh, I did.
Me: Did you ever get on the wrong bus and get dropped off at the wrong neighborhood?
CP: No.
Me: Neither did I, so I'm not too worried.

And I'm not.  I rode the bus from Kindergarten through 1st grade.  Then we moved, and from 2nd grade until 5th grade, my brother (one year older) and I were walkers.  Not only did we walk about 6 blocks everyday to school unsupervised, but our parents left for work way before we left for school, so we were responsible for getting dressed, eating breakfast, and leaving in time so that we weren't late for school.  Then we moved again, and from 6th grade through 8th grade I rode the bus again. And I never worried about getting on the bus, I just worried about missing it!  Because if we missed the bus, we had to walk.  And it was a long walk with a heavy book bag.

Can bad things sometimes happen on the bus?  Do bad things happen sometimes when kids are walking to school?  Yes and yes.  Bad things can and sometimes do happen.  And when they do, they make the national news.  Why?  Because it's RARE!  That is what makes it news!  You never see a headline: Kindergartner successfully rides the school bus back and forth everyday to school with no incident because it isn't newsworthy. It happens everyday.  MUCH more often than a bus getting into an accident or a kid getting abducted.

What my kids will learn from riding the bus: Courage. Independence. Responsibility.

What my kids would learn from me dropping them off everyday at school because I am afraid of them getting hurt/lost/abducted/made fun of/picked on/etc: Fear.

To me, the choice is very easy.

My name is Amber

There are few things more precious in the world to me than hearing my sons call for me.  Thing 1 calls me "Mom".  Thing 2 calls me "Mommy".

But for 27+ years, I was not "Mom" or "Mommy" or "Ma-ma" or "Thing 1 & Thing 2's mom", I was just Amber.

For the first few years of my sons' lives, I think I was fairly typical of many of today's parents, allowing my whole life to be consumed by loving my kids.  I worked full time, but when I wasn't at work, I was at home with my kids. Taking care of my kids.  Loving my kids. Playing with my kids.

My scrapbooking supplies went untouched.  My sewing machine gathered dust.  My softball mitt languished somewhere in a box in the garage.  Forgotten.  Probably more than 75% of my Facebook posts had something to do with my kids or parenting.  (Much to the annoyance of I'm sure about 99% of my Facebook friends.)

It makes sense in many ways really.  Becoming a parent truly changes your life.  The who you were before becomes transformed.  Suddenly things that seemed important before no longer seem important.  You have new priorities.  A new identity.  New prerogatives.  Add that to a hearty dose of working mother's guilt, and you have a recipe for a woman who begins to spend every spare moment with or about her children, not feeling she deserves any time for herself.

But now my boys are older.  They will be 5 soon.  They attend preschool.  They have friends.  They are incredibly more independent.  I can see that they are slowly developing lives outside of me, outside of my husband, and our little family.

And this is a good thing.  Watching their independence reassures to me that they deserve their little lives away from me, away from being the sons.  And that I deserve some time away from them, away from being the mom.

Over the last year, I have started scrapbooking again.  I have started sewing again.  I have gone to crafting workshops on a Saturday.  I've even looked into weekend long scrapbook retreats.  I joined a co-ed softball team.  I have un-apologetically been getting involved with activities that are just for me. Me.

And on a sunny afternoon when Superman takes the boys over to the baseball game, and he calls and asks if I want to meet them there on my way home from work.  And then he tries to guilty me into saying yes by putting Thing 2 on the phone and saying "Please mommy, we want you to come watch baseball with us."  I feel perfectly fine saying "No thanks.  Maybe next time honey." And maybe next time I will go.  But this time, I will use that free time to do something I want to do instead.

Because while I'm still Thing 1's "Mom" and Thing 2's "Mommy", I'm also Amber. And I can't forget about her.

What do you do when you don't like a kid?

Yesterday one of my favorite bloggers posted a blog about having a nanny.  And one of the things I thought was interesting about her justification for being a stay-at-home-mom with a nanny is that only in the United States do we have this "my child, my problems" mentality.  Almost everywhere else still lives by the "it takes a village approach."

It got me thinking: As an American, I am very careful about reprimanding other people's children, because you never know when a parent will go ape-shit on you.

"Oh no you didn't just tell my child to stop kicking that kid!"

The next thing I know I'd be in a youtube video titled "Moms get in cat fight at playground."

So what do you do when a little kid is being a jerk?  

Really, at a playground is the easiest place to deal with this situation.  Tell your kid to stay away from the kid that is hitting/pushing/calling names/spitting/acting a fool.  If he doesn't, just leave.  You will most likely never see that little jerk again.

And while all kids can be little jerks once in a while, what do you do when there is a kid you know that is just generally a little jerk most of the time?

If it is a friend's kid, we just stop hanging out with that friend when the kids are involved.

But what do you do when the kid, the one that you see as a negative influence, is a more permanent fixture in your child's life that you can't simply weed out? What do you do if they are in their class at school, or go to the same church, or are on the same tee-ball team, or live on the same block.  Are you going to have them change classes?  Switch churches?  Transfer leagues?  Move!?!?  Even if you would/could do any of those things, in all likelihood, you'd just run into a new, different problem kid there, too.  You can't just keep moving.

And let me interrupt for a second to say that we in no way think our kids are perfect. All you have to do is read my blog to know that I know my kids can be loud and unruly. They can be mean (but usually only to each other).  But #1 we acknowledge our children's imperfections, and we are constantly working on positive reinforcement and constructive discipline to curb these behaviors. But most parents with the kids I can't stand think that their kid wears a halo and poops rainbows.  (You can't fix it if you can't/won't admit there is something wrong.) #2 I don't want them picking up any more bad behaviors while we are trying to correct the ones they already have!

Am I the only one with these dilemmas?  Are other parents facing similar situations?  What do you do???

Or am I just a jerk for thinking little kids can be jerks?

The Process of Becoming a Mom (Guest Blogger)

A few weeks ago, I asked one of my best friends if she would be willing to write a guest blog. She'd never written a blog before, and didn't really know what to write about. I said "Just write about a hard aspect of parenting. Something you think another mother in your shoes could relate to."  I suggested she tackle what it was like to be a Navy wife. Or why she longs for a big family (she is currently a mom of three and she wants one more!)  But she felt something else in her heart, and I think you'll love the topic she picked.  Even if you can't exactly relate, it's a touching, inspiring, and moving story.  Let's welcome Christie...


“Wow! That guy is hot!”  That is what I thought when I first saw my husband.

There was definitely an instant physical attraction, but there was also great conversation. His ability to make me laugh was unstoppable. We were practically inseparable from the moment we met.

From very early on, I knew in my heart he was my future, no matter what my friends said or the warnings from my parents.

My friends thought we argued too much, but I saw it as our passion for each other.

My parents said to stay away from Navy guys, because they leave you for months at a time.  But I knew I could handle it, since I had grown up watching my mom go through it with my dad always being deployed as a naval captain.

And it turned out that none of those things were what I struggled with. No, I struggled with the fact that I wasn’t the only girl in his life...and never would be.

She was beautiful, sweet, and at 2 years old, already very determined.  Zoë was his daughter, and I adored her the moment I met her.

Phil had just separated from his wife of two years and was moving to Virginia to stay. Zoë would be joining him as soon as he was settled in, and she would be living with him the majority of the time.

I was only 24, and still used to being a carefree party girl.  It was going to be a major adjustment.  And fast.  But I knew in my heart that my future was with Phil.  And I knew that if my future was with him, then it was also with her, and I needed to find a way to make it work.

It wasn’t easy.

And not only did I have an instant daughter, but I also now had an ex-wife to deal with. I put my mind to it to make it work, and decided the only thing to do was make nice with his ex. I figured the least I could do was be friendly and compassionate towards her.  Because she wasn't just Phil's ex, she was also Zoë's mother.  I tried putting myself in her shoes. I tried to imagine what she was probably going through. I knew losing her husband and her baby girl must have been devastating.

Making the effort to be nice and understanding with Zoë's mother one of the best decisions I ever made.  It really does make things so much easier for Zoë, and she is the one who matters. We continue to have a very friendly relationship to this day. I really do like who she is and respect her for what she has been through and persevered.

Nearly a year and a half after we met, Phil proposed to me on Christmas Day. I didn't have to pause for even 1 second.  I immediately said Yes! I had known for a good while that he was the one, I was just waiting patiently for him to figure it out, too! Luckily, he didn’t make me too wait long.

We married 8 months later and moved into our first place together. Less than a month after our wedding, he left for his first deployment of our marriage. He also left behind Zoë. She only stayed with me a short while before she left to stay with her mom for the rest of the deployment. I went from a family of three to being a single woman again. I couldn't believe how much I missed them both, and anxiously awaited their return.

It seemed like an eternity, but after a few months they both came back and I fell right back into my roles as wife and mother.

It wasn't easy.  I often struggled, to say the least, and questioned myself many times. But I realized that I struggled most because I was jealous of her. She got all of his attention, and I had to fight for a simple moment alone with my newly wed husband. I felt cheated that here I was wanting to be a normal newlywed, but my role as mom took precedence. I started to resent her and take it out on her.

Looking back now, I am sorry that in those days I was too quick to anger, yelled a lot, and forgot how to just have fun and love her. I was hard on her to eat perfectly, clean up after herself, behave in daycare, etc. I know now that I was being very unrealistic.

I didn't have that maternal bond with her, and I desperately wanted it. I prayed every night that I could let my frustration go and just love her. I couldn’t vent about my feelings to my husband either because it seemed he always defended her, and I needed his support. He couldn’t understand what I was going through.  He had never been a stepparent. I felt love for her, but knew I’d never be able to love her like he did.

Or so I thought at the time.

As the years went by, I found that with time and lots of patience that I did indeed grow to love her more than anything.

I now have two of my own biological children, two little boys. And I can say with certainty that my love for my daughter is no different than my love for my sons.

And I'm so thankful to Zoë.  Because she taught me more than I could have ever learned on my own about patience and unconditional love. She helped me learn when to put my foot down and when I needed to stop and just enjoy the moment. She helped me loosen up about the house. Helped me see that it's okay to let it be messy sometimes, because it can always be cleaned up later. In fact, she will help. She really is an amazing little person and I feel so blessed to have her in my life.

Zoë taught me how to be a mom.

And be a better person in general.

I can't even express how much I LOVE being a mom.  I feel like it's been my true calling all along. And I credit a lot of the kind of mom I am now to this little girl. Even though we struggled at first, and she didn’t deserve my short comings in those early years, she still loved me back unconditionally.

And I have realized that she didn’t ask for me either, but she made the most of it as well. She grew with me as I did with her. She makes my life complete and I wouldn’t want to imagine my life without her in it.

Now that my oldest son is 3 years old, I can remember back to many of the struggles I had when she was 3, and I am having the same struggles with him today. I see so clearly now that it's just the way 3 year olds are, and I was the one setting unrealistic demands on her.

But thanks to her, and the amazing relationship we now have, I know that this too shall pass and that these struggles are all worth it!


Can I just add that I am so glad Phil brought this little girl into our lives!!

I need some Spring Fever

So, you can probably tell by yesterday's post that I was a little cranky.  Some days I just feel like a time bomb about to explode with anger and sadness. Yesterday was just one of those days. I felt on the verge of tears almost all late morning and afternoon.

But I felt much better after going home and talking with Superman. He really is my rock. He really can make me feel better like no one else can.

I think that a large part of my problem is stress at work. I just wish I could force myself to not let my work stress and worry affect my interactions with my kids. Because I hate my job and I love my kids.

Kindergarten

So, this morning I signed Thing 1 and Thing 2 up for Kindergarten.

First, can I just say I had this little daydream about how perfect our morning would go...  Them dressed cutely in shorts and tshirts, with their hair side swept, and smiling and laughing excitedly about getting to visit their "kindergarten school."

But instead, they were little spawns of Satan. Running around.  Running into glass walls.  Being WAY too loud for a school environment (yes, they spent a lot of time singing a cute song they'd made up, but there is a time and place boys!).  Thing 2 swinging his dog purse around, even after swearing to me that if I let him bring it in that he would not misbehave with it ("Mom, it's not a toy.").  Then throwing said dog purse at each other.  Me trying to fill out gads of paperwork in between "boys stop that" "boys inside voices"  "boys quit throwing" "are you two too little to come to kindergarten?  You aren't acting like big boys right now, maybe you need to stay in preschool with the little kids."  I didn't dare look around to see the looks I must have been receiving as the other parents sat with their single children sitting quietly.

Am I a bad mother that I obviously lose my cool in said situations and just can't seem to control them?  Or am I a good mother because at least I have the good sense to know they are being hellions and am embarrassed about it, instead of being completely oblivious or just shrugging my shoulders and saying "kids will be kids"?

Either way, this mother was relieved when I was finally ready to walk out the door.  But right before I left, their soon-to-be-principle came out and introduced herself (and tried calming the boys down with her calm, hushed tones).  And since she was right there, and since there had not been a place for it on any of the forms,  I asked her about putting Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the same kindergarten class.  To my surprise, she said no, that as a rule, they do not put siblings in the same class.

I was a little shaken by this since Superman and I had discussed wanting to keep them in the same class through Kindergarten at least, but I was too exasperated from dealing with the tornado twins for the last 45 minutes, so I decided just to leave, tell Superman, talk it over, and then decide if we needed to readdress the issue with her.

A little while later I called Superman to #1 say "we must do something about the boys' discipline...I feel like their behavior is getting more wild" (he for the record doesn't think there is a problem, which is a problem for me).  And #2 let him know what the principal said about the two classrooms.

His answer, "Well then we will send them to a different school."  What now?  NO.

First of all, I did all of the research, preparation, and work to get them registered in THIS school.  Second, this is where their neighborhood friends will go.  And third, this is the school where the school bus will take them.  Just WHO does he think will be taking them to this out of zone school every morning?  Not me!!  I'm counting the days until my school drop off duties are over.  I can only take so many morning mornings of yelling "will you just buckle your freaking seatbelts!" while two kids are fighting and/or playing behind me and we are all running late because they were fighting and/or playing when they were supposed to be dressing, eating breakfast, or picking up...I'm going to lose my shit!

This is what I say: I QUIT!  I'm tired.  I have no fight left in me.  My energy will go towards something that affects my day positively, like figuring out how to put the fear of god in my kids (that does not involve spanking them in to submission) so that they will shape up and start behaving in public like children and not orangutans.  If Superman wants to fight the principal...let him do it.  I'll support him, but I am NOT doing the leg work on this one.  And if she still won't back down, he'll have to get over it, because I'm not sending the kids out of zone just because he has dreams of them growing up not only as brothers but best friends attached at the hip, doing everything together, and one day moving off to college and being roommates together.  Then marrying twin sisters and living next door to each other with their red and blue houses and matching SUVs.

Sorry...I'm just feeling stressed and this morning hasn't helped any.

The Back-rub Scam

I am often guilty of pinning pinning pinning on Pinterest, but then not doing anything with those great ideas.  But not this time internet. Not this time.

A few weeks, or maybe months, ago, I pinned this idea (on my Playing with my kids board) of a dad who drew a car track on the back of a tshirt in order to scam a free back-rub.

thebluebasket.blogspot.com

And last night, after Valentine's Day dinner, I was really wanting a back rub.  But Superman doesn't do back rubs, so I retreated to my craft room and about 15 minutes later came out with this:
 

And guess what internet...it works!!  Thing 1 and Thing 2 snuck into my room and saw what I was doing, so I told them to go grab some cars.  And they were back in a flash!  Then, they spent a solid 45 minutes playing cars on my back (and my butt and legs. I was not excited that my butt was the "super huge mountain", but hey it felt so good they can call it whatever they want!).


But before you go judging my lazy parenting, I will tell you this, the unexpected benefit from this arrangement was that it forced me to just lay and listen to them play.  Not do any parenting or instruction.  Just listen to them be them.  Not listen while cooking dinner.  Not listen with one ear, while listening to the news with the other.  Or listen intently for 3 minutes and then return to another task.

As a mother who works full time, I often find that I'm so busy juggling everything that my mental to do list is on constant scrolling in my brain (scoop the cat litter, feed the fish, make dinner, clean up from dinner, fold that laundry, put that laundry away, vacuum up that cereal, sew up the tear in that snow suit, etc. etc) which makes it hard to just focus on any one thing in the evenings.  But thanks to this t-shirt, last night I spent 45 solid minutes just listening and taking joy in hearing how imaginative and creative my sons are.  And hearing them bring in situations from their real life. I couldn't stop smiling, and not from the scammed back-rub (although that did feel good!).

It was definitely a great way to bring a close to a day that celebrates love.

Hormonal Decisions (Guest Blogger)

A friend of mine named Sarah, who blogs at I Love Nail Polish (you should check her out!), told me a while back about unexpected complications she'd had from having her tubes tied after her second child.  I had never heard of these complications before, so I thought it would be interesting to have her write a guest blog about her experience.  Like I said in yesterday, everybody and every body is different, what works well for some might not work well for others, and vice versa.  The key is to make informed decisions for yourself.  So with that, let's welcome Sarah!....

It’s a Girl!

With that announcement I knew Adam and I would need to discuss permanent birth control. Prior to my pregnancy with Bryce I was on “the pill” for about 7 years. Afterward, I had the Mirena IUD for 3. At my 20 week ultrasound, we learned our second child would be a girl, thus (for us) completing our little family. At my next OB/GYN appointment, Adam and I talked briefly with the doc that this baby would be our last. The OB/GYN practice I was using had several practitioners; each patient was required to have an appointment with each doctor. At every appointment we explained to each doctor that this would be our last baby. One doctor suggested the Essure procedure. Essure is a permanent birth control procedure that works with your body to create a natural barrier to prevent pregnancy. To find out more about Essure, ask your OB/GYN and visit www.essure.com.

For me the cons of Essure were:

• It would mean an additional OB/GYN visit.
• Additional cost, as it was not approved by my insurance.
• I’d never heard of it before and it looked strange. (I wasn’t exactly excited to have inserted into my vagina what looked a whole lot like mattress springs, just on a smaller scale.)

The other choice in permanent birth control was a tubal ligation (AKA having my tubes tied). So, that was that. I honestly didn’t ask a whole lot of questions, with only two options tubal ligation seemed to me to be the “only” choice.

Courtesy of theprickcushion.com

What I understood about having my tubes tied was

• It’s 99% effective.
• It could be done immediately after giving birth to Maggie.
• It is covered 100% by insurance.
• It is “permanent,” unless one decided to have a reversal.
• It is the most common form of birth control among married women.

What I didn’t know, but found out later

• Post tubal ligation syndrome is more prevalent than the medical community will admit.
• Afterward, most women need some kind of hormonal support, in the way of hormone replacement therapy or birth control pills.
• Many women experience emotional changes so severe their mood can only be improved with anti depressant treatment.

My personal experience is not one of regret because I am no longer able to have children; the regret stems from not educating myself or exploring other options. It turns out that tubal ligation is more costly and has more complications than a vasectomy. Looking back, continuing use of the Mirena may have been a good solution until we thoroughly researched all of our options. Since having the tubal ligation in May of 2009 my body has gone into what my doc is calling “early menopause.” At the age of 32 it was the last thing I thought I’d be experiencing. My OB/GYN recommended hormone replacement or I could try taking birth control pills to see if they helped. I wasn’t going to take birth control pills; why should I pay for more birth control and put anymore hormones into my system? Instead, I suffer terrible night sweats and hot flashes so severe they send my coworkers searching for sweaters to escape the frigid temps in my office. Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome (PTS) is not something I ever heard or read about prior to my own experience. PTS results from a rapid decline in estrogen levels due from the blood supply being damaged to the ovaries during the TL surgery.

Symptoms of PTS are:

1. Eptopic pregnancy or pregnancy-I was unaware of the number of women who experience these following a TL.

1a.Hot flashes, flushes, night sweats and/or cold flashes, clammy feeling, chills

2. Bouts of rapid heart beat

3. Irritability

4. Mood swings, sudden tears (I’ve been on Zoloft since my pregnancy, without it, I am mush)

5. Trouble sleeping through the night (with or without night sweats)

6. Irregular periods; shorter, lighter periods; heavier periods, flooding; phantom periods, shorter cycles, longer cycles

7. Loss of libido (not having this)

8. Dry vagina (or this)

8a.Itchy vagina-at time raw like, can radiated from whole area, with absence of yeast infections. (or this)

8b. Color change in vaginal area. (color gets darker - purple/black) (or this)

9. Crashing fatigue (sometimes)

10.Anxiety, feeling ill at ease (for real)

11.Feelings of dread, apprehension, doom (again without the Zoloft I’m a wreck)

12.Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion (seriously!)

13.Disturbing memory lapses (yeppers)

14.Incontinence, especially upon sneezing, laughing; urge incontinence (hmmm, this is particularly bothersome)

14a.Prolapse of uterus do to rapid decress in estrogen levels.

15.Itchy, crawly skin (not experiencing this)

16.Aching, sore joints, muscles and tendons

17.Increased tension in muscles

18.Breast tenderness (not this one either)

18a. Decrease in breast mass (definitely no trouble here)

19.Headache change: increase or decrease

20.Gastrointestinal distress, indigestion, flatulence, gas pain, nausea (yep, had to have my first colonscopy due to blood in my stool and vomiting blood)

21.Sudden bouts of bloat --sucks

22.Depression (Zoloft, 200 mg PO QD)

23.Exacerbation of existing conditions --??

24.Increase in allergies --yes

25.Weight gain (everything “except Weight Watchers” makes me gain weight..primarily food is the culprit though)

26.Hair loss or thinning, head, pubic, or whole body; increase in facial hair (…ewe glad I’m not experiencing this)

27.Dizziness, light-headedness, episodes of loss of balance –yep this is scary

28.Changes in body odor –I don’t think so

29.Electric "shock" or "stabbing" sensation under the skin. --nah

30.Tingling in the extremities, --nah

31.Gum problems, increased bleeding --nah

32.Burning tongue, burning roof of mouth, bad taste in mouth, change in breath odor --nah

33.Osteoporosis (after several years)

34.Changes in fingernails: softer, crack or break easier –nah

If those life changing symptoms aren’t enough to scare a person out of having a tubal ligation I’m not sure what would be. However, the beauty of living in the U.S. is that women are able to make these decisions for ourselves. And we do have options. It’s too late for my hormonal mess, but do yourself (and your spouse) a favor and do a lot of research, ask other women, talk to your doctor(s) and explore every option available.

Dear Santa

After almost every trip home I fall into a mild depression (not the clinically diagnosed kind). Because during those few days back in my hometown, I get to spend short but valuable quality time with my best friends. These are woman who I have known for years. Before babies. Before husbands. Heck, most of them before I could drink, or vote, or drive! 17 years and more. I love them so much. And miss them every day.

Sure, thanks to cell phones, emails, and Facebook, I don’t miss them nearly as much as I would have a 100 years ago when we could have only sent written correspondence that would take a week or more to deliver. Keeping in touch now is much more convenient and economical. But still, Skyping doesn’t replace sitting next to them on the couch, sipping a glass of wine, and laughing together. Or crying together. And I can’t do that from 800 miles away.

And I miss that they know me. Really know me. Know that I’m sarcastic, opinionated, and bawdy. Now that I am passionate about important things and irrelevant things like which peanut butter is the best. That I have the best intentions despite having a propensity for putting my foot in my mouth. That I love gossip, but not in a mean spirited way. That I often need to bitch and complain, just to get things off my chest before I can get any clarity on the situation. That I’m a loyal friend, but I also believe in being honest even though I know it’d be easier to just tell you what you want to hear. They know that I can be unintentionally judgmental, and they help me work on changing that about myself.

With them, I don’t have to act smarter than I am. Or to censor myself. Act more pious. Or polite. Or wittier. Or more informed. I can be exactly who I am, and they love me and accept me just for that. I feel safe and unjudged.

As a married mother/adult living in a university town, I have found it very hard to make friends. Sure, I have some wonderful acquaintances, but that is all they are. Nice people that I exchange pleasantries with in social situations.

How are you?

I’m great. How are you?

Wonderful.

How is the family? Good?

That’s terrific! Man this weather is beautiful/terrible/crazy/unexpected.

Yes, isn’t it? But that is Indiana for you.

True. Well, it was good to see you.

Awesome, it was good to see you, too.

But for one reason or another it never seems to go past this very superficial level into any more meaningful relationships.

Part of the problem is that because this is a university town, most people I meet seem to see their time here as temporary. Just a bookmark in their life until they move on to their real jobs, their real homes, their real lives. They don’t seem interested in putting much effort into making good friends here, since they themselves are only here on loan until they finish their degrees or find permanent positions elsewhere. And I will admit, back when I lived here as a graduate student in the early 2000s, I was the same way.

The other problem is that when you were young, it didn’t take much to establish a connection. You thought they were fun and funny and they thought the same about you.  But now, you might like her but your husband doesn’t care for him. Or your husbands get along but you and she have nothing to talk about. Or you both like the couple, but you can’t stand their kid and don’t really want them around your kids. Or worse…they don’t have kids, so they just can’t understand your schedule and why you always turn down their invitations to go meet for drinks at 9:00 pm on a school night.

Superman doesn’t seem as phased about not having friends as I am. Honestly, between having me and his parents nearby…he seems quite content with all of his acquaintances. But I want, no, I NEED some girlfriends! And not the kind I can only reach out and touch through a keyboard, but the fleshy kind. The kind that will show up at my house unannounced on a Saturday and sit and drink a cup of hot chocolate with me while we watch the kids play in the snow in the backyard. The kind that we have a monthly game night with, when you bring the kids’ pajamas, because you know the fun will go way past their bedtime.

Oh, and not to be too picky, but I want one that mothers similar to me. Someone that doesn’t feed their kids McDonald’s at every meal, but doesn’t think Ronald McDonald is the devil either. Someone who doesn’t put coke in their one year old’s sippy cup, but doesn’t feed them only organic seaweed juice. Someone who believes in discipline, but also believes that children are children and that 4 year olds shouldn’t be expected to conform to adult standards of politeness and properness. Someone who doesn't chronically read parenting advice books. Someone who I can ask parenting advise from, but isn’t offended if I don’t take it. A mother who is realistic about their love for their child, and doesn’t insist that they are god’s gift to the world and they poop skittles and rainbows. A mother who likes spending time with her children, not one who always wants to do “just girls” things because she is desperate to get away from them at every opportunity.

I know my list is not unreasonable. I know this, because I know these women. And if this were a perfect world, I’d live next door to them in Virginia Beach and still have my amazing in-laws living just 45 minutes away.

But until then, I can just say:

Dear Santa Claus,

Please, please, please bring me a friend this year.  I’ve been very good all year and I think I deserve it.

Love,

Me

P.S. She must believe in Santa Claus.

Talking to Kids About Abuse

This is an incredibly informative blog that addresses talking to your kids about sexual abuse written by a woman who attends my church. I highly encourage every parent to read it and to consider talking to your children about this subject.  Like she says, even children as young as four can understand these basic concepts.  Your children deserve to know they have rights not to be abused.

Thank you Jenni.


Talking to Kids About Abuse

Children as young as four years old can understand the basic concepts of good touches, bad touches and confusing touches. These young children can also understand the definition of sexual abuse and are not afraid of the words that send a chill up the spines of adults. Use the words "sexual abuse" when talking with your child because if a child is victimized, they need to be able to tell you that they were "sexually abused."

Child protective services social workers will tell you that a child without the language to describe their victimization is a child whose case is weakened in the court system.  Remember, you are not putting the responsibility on the child.  Instead, you are helping the child to understand the problem and identify safe people who will support them.

Children need to hear information more than once. This way, your child will "own" this information. Repetition allows them to retain what they have learned. A one-time discussion is soon forgotten.

Also, repeating your discussions every year will reinforce what they have learned and reintroduces points they may have forgotten. Let's not rule out the possibility that, in the course of your discussion, a child may exclaim: "Hey! That's happened to me!" While a parent can never be fully prepared for such a disclosure, you may want to know how to respond to a child who discloses abuse, before you begin your talk with your child.

This synopsis is offered here to help you discuss this very difficult topic with your children so that they will have the tools they may need to stay safe from sexual abuse.

• Teach your child that they are special and have the right to know everything they can about being safe.Discuss of all the safety rules they have learned and explain that there are some more safety rules to learn.
• When teaching your child about sexual abuse, talk about 3 different types of touch: good touch, bad touch and sexual abuse touch. "Good touches" are those touches that make us feel happy, safe and loved. Good touches can make us feel warm inside or can make us feel like a smile. Emphasize that most of the touch we get is good touch. Good touches are so important! "Bad touches" are those touches that hurt us; they feel like an ouch. Some examples are kicking, hitting and biting. "Sexual abuse touch" is defined as "forced or tricked touch of private body parts." The key words are forced and tricked. A force is when someone makes you do something you don't want to do or don't understand. A trick is when someone lies to you, fools you, pretends or calls something a game, that really isn't a game, so they can touch your private body parts or have you touch theirs. Explain that sexual abuse is confusing because it doesn't necessarily hurt; the touch can feel good. And that is confusing to children.
• Use the words "sexual abuse" to eliminate unnecessary confusion. The effort to call sexual abuse by another name (such as inappropriate touch) is counterproductive--leading to more confusion for children. After all, we can be assured that the sexual abuse offender of our children will not call what he/she is doing sexual abuse.By giving your child the correct language, you give your child the power.
• Teach your child that their body is their own and that no one has the right to touch them in a way that makes them feel uncomfortable or in a way that they don't like.
• Teach your child that they have the right to trust their own feelings and to ask questions when they feel uncomfortable or confused by someone's behavior. Talk about times when they may have had an anxious feeling (forgetting homework, losing something, frightened by a loud noise, etc.). Discuss the importance of paying attention to our feelings in situations when we are feeling uncomfortable.
• Teach your child that they have the right to say "NO!" to sexual abuse. Teach them that they can say "NO!" to anyone who might want to sexually abuse them; even if the offender is an adult; even if the offender is someone they know.
• Teach your child that it is very important to tell a trusted adult if someone sexually abuses them or hurts them in any way. Teach your child that they can tell another person if they are not believed. Discuss and identify trusted adults in their life.
• Teach your child that it is okay to break promises they might make about sexual abuse. Children do not have to keep any promise that makes them feel bad inside.
• Teach your child that if sexual abuse happens to a child, it is NEVER the child's fault. Older children (4th grade and up) may come up with ways in which it could be the child's fault; explain that sexual abuse is against the law and children are not responsible when someone breaks the law and sexually abuses them.
• Teach your child that a person who sexually abuses a child can be anyone. Most children, even adults, think that offenders are usually strangers. Children need to know that they have the right to say "NO!" and tell even when the offender is someone they know, like, love or even live with. (In 90% of cases the offender is someone the child knows.)
• Let your child know that it is never too late to tell about sexual abuse.
• Let your child know that if sexual abuse happens to them,  they are still lovable and that you will always love them no matter what.

This information was taken from http://www.childhelp.org/

Maybe I'm too sensitive

Maybe I'm too sensitive, but man I get tired of all of the breast-feeding nazis out there.  Every day I feel like I see something about how my children are going to be dumber, fatter, sicker, slower, uglier, and more cancer ridden because they were formula fed.  Actually, I'm just surprised they didn't die from SIDS since I was so uncaring enough not to breast feed them until they were old enough to chew filet mignon.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.  A little.

But c'mon you breast feeding proponents.  Enough already.  We get it.  Breast is best.

Really, do you think there is a person out there that still doesn't understand that breast milk is the optimum choice for a baby's nutrition?  That it is biologically engineered to feed that baby.  We get it.  We all get it.

Do you think people who smoke really don't know it will cause lung cancer?

People who don't breastfeed don't not do it because they don't understand those facts...  They don't do it because their milk doesn't come in, or the baby doesn't latch right, or how about this: they just don't want to.

I have a good friend who didn't breast feed because she just thought it sounded gross.  She is very private about her body and her personal parts and didn't want a) a baby sucking on it or b) to have to breastfeed in public etc.  So she chose to bottle feed with formula.  She didn't put her baby to the breast even once.  Not even to try.  Immediately after labor she began working to dry up her swollen breasts.

Meanwhile, my milk never fully came in.  Try as I might.  I drank Mother's Milk tea.  I took Fenugeek supplements.  I drank liters and liters of water.  I did kangaroo care.  I pumped every 2 hours, on the dot.  I barely made enough to feed one baby, let alone two.  I wanted to breast feed so bad it hurt.  Literally.

I had planned to do it for a year.  We even moved within a mile of my work so that I could go home to nurse once I went back to work.  

But my children would have starved if it hadn't been for formula.  In more ways than one.  Because not only did my milk never fully come in (I never once had "let down" or "engorgement"), but also, my boys never learned to latch on.  Lactation consultant after lactation consultant, even one that specialized in preemies, couldn't help me get those boys to successfully hook up to the tap.

But I was so adamant to give my boys "the best" that I kept trying.  I was like the Little Engine That Could trying so hard to climb that mountain.  Being weighed down by weak breasts, lazy feeding babies,  post-bedrest recovery, and post-partum feelings of failure because I couldn't do this simple thing that nature had designed for my body to do.

After weeks and weeks of torturing myself...  pumping every 2-3 hours, losing sleep, crying rivers of tears each time my babies wouldn't latch or I pumped just 2 ounces, I finally considered giving up.  Superman was beyond relieved when I mentioned it.  He had been wanting me to stop trying weeks ago, but knew he couldn't suggest it.

I called a cousin of mine who I knew had gone through the same thing and eventually given up.  She's a great mom to two beautiful healthy kids.  She had quit after her breasts had failed her with her son, and had such a bad experience that she decided not to try with her daughter.  After several phone calls and hours of consoling, I knew she was right when she told me that I wasn't a bad mother for wanting to quit, that in fact, I would become a better mother after quitting because I would be able to enjoy my babies more.  Feeding time would become joyful, rather than dreaded.  I would hold my babies and smile and laugh while they ate, instead of live in constant anxiety and sadness each time feeding didn't go well.

The final straw was the morning I had pumped and pumped for 40 minutes and gotten less than an ounce.  While cleaning my pump, I accidentally spilled my milk.  And oh did I cry over spilled milk.  I had a full blown hysterical collapse.  My milk was more precious than gold to me at that point.  I was working so hard to produce even the slightest drops for my pre-mature infants...and now it was just a tiny whitish puddle on my kitchen floor.

As I was sitting on the floor sobbing and wiping my eyes, I knew.  My phone calls to my cousin weren't about looking for advice.  They were about looking for permission.  Asking permission from someone I knew to be a good mom that it was okay to quit.  I wanted to quit.

So I did.

I called the hospital and arranged for them to come get my rented hospital grade pump.

Then I called my husband and asked him to bring me home a bottle of wine.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were 8 weeks old.

And guess what?  They didn't didn't die.  Niether did my friend's who chose not to try.  They aren't dumber, fatter, sicker, slower, or uglier than my breast fed friends' kids.  In fact, all three of the kids are incredibly bright, healthy, perfect size for their ages, and good-looking four year olds.  And we are both great moms, if I may say so myself.  We both make the best choices possible for our kids.  We put our childrens' health and happiness first.

I wonder if all of the breast-feeding propaganda bothers her like it does me.  Maybe I'm overly sensitive because I did try so hard and still failed.  To me, even four years later, it still feels like having salt rubbed over my wounds.  Like I'm being judged by people who don't even know me or my story.  Like I'm being marked as a bad mom by some imaginary Scarlett F.

It's funny, because I don't feel this way about my c-section.  Not in the least.  Would I have preferred a traditional delivery?  Sure.  But once my doctor said the c-section would be best having twins, I trusted her, accepted it, and moved on.

I don't know if it's because the c-sections vs. vaginal delivery rhetoric isn't as prevalent, or if I just don't notice it because I've never had one ounce of remorse, regret, or guilt, like I have known some other c-section mothers to have.  My babies needed to be born, and my doctor and I made an educated decision on the safest way to bring them into the world.  End of story.

Maybe it's because I feel like with my c-section I was in control.  I made the ultimate decision.  Where with the breast feeding, it seems like the decision was made for me (by my body).

So if you are a breast-feeding mommy.  Good for you!  I hope you feel lucky and blessed that you are being honored with the ability to provide and bond with your baby this way.  And if you are a struggling breast-feeding mommy, know that you have to follow your heart.  Maybe the answer is to stick with it and it will get better, but if you need to stop, it will be okay too.  I promise there are many more factors to having great kids than whether or not you breast feed.  And if you chose not to breast feed, while I may not understand it, I can respect that it is your choice.  And I'm sure your children will turn out great too.  'Cause like Superman always says "Some of my favorite people in the world were formula fed babies."  (That would be him and me. :)

Happy Father's Day Superman

I recently posted this article about Fathers on my facebook page, commenting how I'm so glad that both Superman and my own father are the good kind of fathers.  The kind that have made being active with their kids a priority in their lives.  A father who is actually an equal parent and an equal spouse, doing housework and laundry because it is a household responsibility, not claiming it's woman's work.  (On the same token, I have been known to roll up my sleeves and mow the lawn and take out the trash and grab my tool box to fix a faulty light switch or replace a toilet, because it's not men's work.)

I thought: How sad that this needs to be written in 2011.  It seems like such a 1950s idea of woman as caretaker and man as standoffish provider.  But sadly, I do personally know couples where the mother does do it all while the father works.  And when he comes home he needs his "me time" to unwind from working.  And then spends hours and hours of golfing on the weekends.  For some of them it works (and good for them, who am I to judge), but for most of them...it doesn't.  The women feel over burdened and unappreciated.  And they are sad to see their children who idolize their daddies, getting so little of his time or attention.  And they fume when the absentee fathers suggest having "just one more" baby.  One of my friends even secretly had her tubes tied during her c-section, and as far as I know STILL hasn't told her husband, because he wanted more kids and she didn't.  And some of these women eventually became so tired of being single mothers that they eventually left their husbands to be actual single mothers.

I wouldn't say that I'm lucky Superman turned out to be a good dad, because I always knew he would be.  In fact, that is part of why I fell in love with him.  Part of why I knew I wanted to marry him. We met when we were both working for a non-profit organization that provided care and job opportunities for adults with physical and mental disabilities.  Watching the care, patience, and compassion he had for a population most people are afraid of, I could see the kind of father he would one day be.  And throughout our dating, as I got to know him better and better, I just became more sure of this.

Because remember ladies, we don't live in a patriarchal society with archaic arranged marriages.  We CHOOSE our mates.  We CHOOSE who we want to procreate with.  Who we want to share our genes with and our lives.

In fact, when I first met Superman, I was actually dating someone else.  This guy was fun, funny, interesting, and he adored me (who wouldn't love that?).  I knew he wanted to marry me.  I knew he wanted to have kids with me.  But the thing was, as fun as he was to date...I knew he was not the guy I wanted to be the father of my children.  First of all, he had a son.  And honestly, as much as I liked the guy, I thought he was a pretty lousy father.  True, there are some other factors why I knew he wasn't the one that I won't go into here, but the bottom line was even without any of those other factors, seeing him father his son, I knew I would not be having kids with him.

But I guess maybe I was lucky.

Lucky that Superman didn't change. Some women I know have married men who maybe they thought would be great dads, but somewhere along the line they made their careers a priority over parenting.

Lucky that he turned out to be an even better dad than I ever hope or imagined.

When I found out I was pregnant, we immediately started discussing whether or not we could afford for one of us to stay home.  Even from the beginning, it wasn't how I would stay home.  It was which one of us.  Prior to getting pregnant, we had never discussed how to handle child care.  Which in hindsight was a mistake.  However, as luck would have it we both were in 100% agreeance that we didn't want to put a baby in daycare, and that we would find a way to make sure that, at least for the first year, one of us would stay home to raise it.

Because we had just moved to a new state for my job, and Superman didn't even have a full time job yet (did I mention the pregnancy was unplanned?), he volunteered to stay home.

Then we found out we were having twins.

He didn't bat an eye.  In fact, once he found out we were having twin boys, he seemed pretty excited for his "guy time".

After one year, we both agreed that the arrangement was working so well that he would go ahead and stay home another year.  At the end of year two, we decided to go for another!  For three years, he was the primary caregiver, before we decided it was time for the boys to head to pre-school, and for Superman to re-enter the outside-of-home-workforce again.  I was both happy (for the boys starting a new chapter of their lives and for Superman getting a chance to work among peers again) and sad (because for three years I never had to worry about my children's care and happiness).

But you would not believe how many comments I heard from other women (mothers and non-mothers) saying "I would never let anyone else raise my children".  Excuse me?  I didn't drop them off with some stranger, they were at home with their father.  What makes you think that you have more of a right to raise your children than he does?  What makes you think you'd even be better at it?

Honestly, are there things I probably would have done differently (like more scheduled activities and taking the kids on playdates), but I say probably because I realize some things are easier said than done.  What I think I would have done and what I actually would have done might be two wholly different things...

But I can tell you what they did learn from their daddy that they most likely wouldn't have learned from me (at least not as well):

Patience.  I am much more hot-headed and quick to temper than my calm-demeanored husband; I love that they seem to have acquired his personality.  After all, if I hadn't thought he was pretty great, I wouldn't have married him.

A love for music.  Sure, I love to sing along with the radio, but by three years old, my boys already knew how to keep a beat on drums and hold a guitar the right way as they lip synced to old school 80s rock songs, thanks to hours and hours of home jam sessions.  I swear to you they can tell the difference between Girls, Girls, Girls, Crazy Train, I Love Rock n' Roll, and Jump by just the first two bars of the song.

A love for the outdoors.  Even on the hottest of days, when I would have hidden away in the security of the air conditioning, Superman would venture outside with the boys and find something fun to do.  Whether it was splashing around in the wading pool, looking for bugs, or just taking a short walk.

How to be active.  Superman is an avid runner, and loves being active.  He would take the boys on really long walks, all around our little town.  Often walking them up to my work to visit me during the day.  Now 4 years old, Thing 1 and Thing 2 really show the benefits of being raised by someone so active.  (Not to say that I'm a lazy-ass, but let's just say I find doing a craft project more fun than taking a 5 mile walk pushing a double stroller.)

I could go on.  But, my point is...yes, we are different parents.  But neither one of us is the inherently better parent based on whether we sit or stand when we pee.  We both have our strengths and our weaknesses.  And I like to think that as co-parents we compliment one another well and have raised two amazingly awesome kids because of it.

I think it is time to stop accepting that fathers are some kind of second rate parents.  Quit describing a dad spending time with his kids as "babysitting" or "giving mom a break", he is just doing what he is supposed to be doing...being a parent!  Quit having such low expectations of what a father looks like.  EXPECT a father to be a parent.  A real parent.

And don't accept this "I work hard all day" as an excuse for not parenting nonsense.  Guess what?  For three years I was the working parent with the 9-5 job, yet I somehow managed to come home, change my clothes, and go play with my kids...and my husband (because that is important too).  In fact, everyday I would make sure to 1. notice and give Superman a compliment about the house, 2. give him a rest from the kids (stay-at-homes need this "me time" much more than working parents I think), 3. cook dinner, and we alternated days for who gave the evening bath.  Was it tiring?  Of course.  But who ever said being a parent would be easy?

I'm happy to say that its summertime again, and school is out.  Which means my husband has left his Clark Kent job as high school teacher to resume his role of Superman stay-at-home-dad.  So, for the next 2.5 months, I can rest easing knowing Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be having the summer fun of their lives!

And honestly, I'm pretty jealous.  Because who wouldn't want to spend all day hanging out with this guy --->?

Happy Birthday x2

Thing 1 and Thing 2's birthday...where do I start?  This birthday will definitely go down in infamy as the birthday that EVERYTHING WENT WRONG!

Fail #1 For weeks, the boys have been saying they wanted "guitar cake" (they had a guitar cake last year).  Thing 1 wanted a blue guitar cake and Thing 2 wanted a red guitar cake.  One week ago they sprung it on me that they wanted a train cake instead.  Hmm, so off to google images search for me.  I found a lot of inspiration and decided I could make a decent homemade train cake using bread pans and lots of colored icing.

It started out okay.  But as I was preparing to put the final touches on the train, I noticed that the train tracks I had drawn with marker on the cake board was bleeding.  UGH!  Hours of baking (all cakes and icing from scratch) and now the cakes might be ruined.  It was past midnight, and my choice was to start over or try and salvage the cake, hoping that the bleeding had only affected the cardboard, and not the cake itself.  I checked and the marker was "non-toxic", so I decided to try and salvage the cake.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 mostly just eat the icing off the top anyway, maybe other kids would do the same.

I re-located the cakes to another board, covered in foil, and finished piping it and covering it with candy cargo and oreo wheels.  It came out okay, not as cute as I'd imagined, but not bad.  But I was still worried that it would taste like magic marker, so to me, it was deemed ruined.

Yesterday we took it to school and had the boys' party.  Their classmates loved the cake.  And luckily, most only ate the candy and icing (good!).  But take it from me...do not use magic marker on your cake boards!!

Fail #2 The boys' birthday coincided with their last tee-ball game.  So I told the coach I would bring the snack for the game.  I made some super cute baseball cupcakes.  And unlike the train cake fiasco, these turned out exactly as I'd hoped.  The problem: it stormed last night and the fields were flooded.  So, their game was cancelled.  Am I bad, but I'm NOT making cupcakes again next week.  I'll go buy some popsicles instead!

Fail #3 We decided not to do a party this year.  I am not one of these parents that thinks my kids need a party every year.  We had a big one for their first birthday (actually, we had three!), but did a small family celebration for their second.  We planned a small one for their third birthday, but somehow it turned into a fairly big one because almost everyone we invited came, just one kid couldn't make it.

I honestly wasn't planning on doing any sort of party this year, but I felt bad that this was the first year the boys really got that it was their birthday, so we decided to do a "Birthday Playgroup."  Our plan was to invite their three best friends (two from school and one from church) to go bowling at the bowling alley right near our house.  About two weeks ago, I sent out a "Mark your calendar" email to the parents.  And then sent a FB message to the bowling alley asking if I needed to actually reserve a lane for only five kids.  No response.  About a week ago, I called them.  No answer.  Last night, I called maybe six times, each time letting the phone ring and ring and ring.  I even told Superman "maybe we should just go over there and make the reservation in person."  But in the end we decided that we highly doubted they'd be so crowded at opening on a Saturday that we couldn't just show up and snag a lane.  I was right.  And wrong.

We pulled into the parking lot at 12 pm sharp this afternoon.  There weren't a lot of cars, but no worry, the bowling alley opened at noon, so how many people would be there right at opening.  But it turns out, they weren't open at all.  In fact, they hadn't been open for more than a week.  UGH!?!?  At this point, all five boys were running around the parking lot, hugging and talking and laughing and excited to play.  Now we had to load them in the car and head over to the other bowling alley.

Fail #4  I was embarrassed for my lack of foresight, but everything was going to be fine because the other bowling alley wasn't a far drive.  And in about five minutes we were in their parking lot, which also seemed very empty.  A woman stuck her head out and let us know that they would be open at 2 pm, since their summer hours were different than their regular hours.  UGH!!!  Might want to change your website info people!!!

Man I was so embarrassed now.  I couldn't even think straight.  But with the help of the other parents, we decided to all head over to a nearby playground where we had an impromptu picnic pizza party (thanks to Little Ceasar's $5 hot and nows) while we passed the time waiting for bowling alley #2 to open.

Honestly, the kids had a blast running around chasing each other.  And they loved that they got to eat the cookies and candy in their treat bags while waiting for the pizza (because who doesn't love to eat dessert first?!).

2 o'clock came and we headed back to the bowling alley.  It was chaotic, but so much fun.  And I was really really glad that we only invited 3 kids though, because I don't know how we could have coped with more.  Teaching four 4 year olds and one 6 year old to take turns bowling was definitely a challenge. :)

Interestingly, while we were there Superman ran into a bunch of people who knew from his pre-married/kids life.  Among those, two birthday parties.  And guess what?  They had both had the same exact morning as us.  Well, not same exact.  Because their parties were a bit bigger than ours, and they had actually made reservations at the other bowling alley only to show up and find it closed.  So, I felt a little better knowing that even if I had made that reservation, the morning would still have been so disorganized. Turns out, the other bowling alley was closed down by the IRS.  I guess you can only go so long without paying your taxes...  And they had never notified any of the people with reservations of the closure.

After settling in to our game, the boys were all having a blast.  But then one by one they had to go home.  Bless their parents for letting them stay sooo long in the first place, after going from location to location.  We were so thankful they were so understanding and gladly waved goodbye and thanked them for coming.

The day did end on a perfect note, though.  Thing 1 and Thing 2, despite my best efforts, love McDonald's chicken nuggets.  So, we packed in the van, along with Grandma and Papaw Train and headed to Mickey D's and had a fast food feast with a side of indoor playground.  We came home, gave the boys a bath, and let them fall asleep in their train pajamas watching one of their new train DVDs.

In the end, the boys had a great birthday.  They didn't notice the train cake may or may not have tasted like magic marker.  They didn't notice that they missed their tee-ball game (because we spent that time skyping with my parents and opening their presents).  They didn't understand the bowling alley confusion fiasco; all they knew is that they got to play at the park and eat pizza and open presents and eat cupcakes and even ride in our van with two of their favorite buddies.  And of course, they loved their birthday dinner at McDonalds.  They even were able to get Papaw Train to buy them McCones before we left.

This is probably the first birthday they will remember (it's crazy to think they are going to be able to start remembering stuff that is happening long term now), but they will only remember the good stuff.  It's only us Type A hyper-organized mommies that will remember this as the birthday that taught her to always, always have a plan B! :)