Spinning Yellow

To Everything, Turn, Turn, There is a Season, Turn, Turn

Hey there!  So ... how was your summer?  Yeah?  That's good.  Oh, me?  Well, mine was really crazy.  It started out really great.  Then got kind of mixed up and sad and lost.  Then stress and anxiety flooded in.  And stayed awhile.  It has been long.  And yet, I am not ready for it to be over.

We've been busy, in a good way, going from one event to another.  Here's a quick review:

Our winter of sickness turned into a spring full of angst.  Once summer started and all the end-of-the-school-year nonsense (too many parties, special events, lack of routine, Scott even said at one point, "I don't want another pizza party, I just want a regular day!") was over, the stress level in our house went way down.  Plus I was in a zen-momma, just turned 40, mode of living in the moment and enjoying having my kids around. 

We had a pre-July 4th party with two of my friends from college and their families (which included "the three little trip-a-lets", as Jane calls them).  At the same time we settled into a nice routine of attending swim lessons in the morning, hanging out at the park, running errands, chilling out at home, reading Harry Potter and doing workbooks.  We girly-ed up some old furniture for Jane's room by painting it pink and purple.  We saw the fireworks with the cousins as usual, enjoying the fact that the kids can all play pretty independently now (I'll choose to ignore the part where Scott got scared of the fireworks because of the smoke now, instead of the noise, well, he still doesn't like the loudness, either).  I rushed to finish Nineteen Minutes and then hosted book group.

This wonderful start to summer then blended into me getting ready for and attending the BlogHer 2008 conference.  After returning, we got in a little bit of a funk with sad news and new anxieties cropping up. We scrambled around getting ready for vacation, went away, then had to recover from said vacation.  There was football practice and picking tomatoes and green beans from the garden.  Attempts at bike riding without training wheels.  Lots of lunches out.  TV watching, computer games, Wii playing.

I read a second book, Crossing To Safety, for my book group, cramming it in, finishing just in time for our meeting. 

There also were fights between the kids.  New issues with "trash can germs".  Complaints about being bored and simultaneously too busy.

I felt tired.  All. the. time.  Oh the headaches, also.  Grrr.

Usually I am more than eager for Fall, my favorite season, to arrive.  But this summer seemed to carry extra importance.  More than anytime before I know how precious these days are.  How fleeting.  I sense the change of seasons, not just literally, but figuratively, for me and my family. 

This time of caring for small children, of being dedicated primarily to them, is coming to an end.  There won't be any more babies.  I think I am the one who is having the most difficult time moving on.  Because it is me that needs to adjust the most.  From full-time, all consuming mommyhood, to what?  I don't know.  I feel lost when I thought I'd feel free, excited, revved-up for new possibilities.

Tomorrow my boy goes back to school.  Something he needs to do.  He wants nothing more than to stay home with me.  To be able to control his environment.  To not have to deal with any of it.

He is concerned about his teacher.  The bullies on the bus.  How long the day is.  Being away from home, missing me.  And the germs.  Really worried about the germs that lurk everywhere because, you know, no one else washes their hands and the bathrooms are beyond gross and don't even get him started on the cafeteria.  And the bus might break down or he could get poisoned.  And no one likes him, well some of the girls do, but they're yucky, except maybe the one girl that he kind of sort of likes, but no.  she's still yucky, too.  It is all just overwhelming.

But he must go.  It is good for him.

And for me.

The new school year always brings a lot of promise.  For fresh starts, new friends.  Opportunities to learn and grow.  I welcome the arrival of routine and cooler weather.  Of whatever lies ahead.

Even if I am wistful for the summer days and babies of the past.

*** Tomorrow I will be hosting a guest post from an anonymous Bitcher as part of Her Bad Mother's Betchfest.  Please check back to listen to some good old-fashioned ranting.  From someone other than me!  And to offer your comments and support.  Because everyone likes to be heard.

The Summer That We Wanted. Yeah, We Finally Got It!

Guess what?  Our summer is going really well.  Really, really, well.  So well that I am almost afraid to admit it for fear of jinxing things.  I know!  I can't believe it either.  I've done so much complaining about summer in the past that I had pretty much resigned myself to another stress-filled 10 week roller coaster.  But, something has happened here.  A perfect mix of maturity and structure that is enabling us all to enjoy these long summer days.

The irony is that a ton of stuff has gone wrong, too.  We've had a bee sting, a badly skinned knee, kids not going to sleep, a late night trip to the ER for an asthma attack, and a renewed fear of fireworks, among many other things.  In fact, just yesterday, I spent an hour on the phone trying to fix a banking problem, then another hour deciphering why my new sensor wasn't connecting to my Nike + account and then, right after she fell asleep, Jane threw up.

All that and the normal summer annoyances, like kids who fight and no time to myself, complaints about what's for lunch and who gets to play at Grammy's, anxiety about new situations.  Sunscreen.  Bugs.  The list goes on and on.

But none of that matters because what we do have is a typical summer.  Kids who swim and play with other kids.  Who can entertain each other and themselves.  Enough of a routine to keep things sane and plenty of flexibility to have fun. 

It is as if the atmosphere in our house has changed dramatically.

For years now I have been frantic and anxious.  Wondering how to get through each day, worried about what new challenge would come up.  Take last summer for example, Scott wouldn't put his head back in the water and Jane wasn't potty trained.  I spent all summer stressing that he'd never make it through a full day of school in first grade and she'd never be able to start preschool still in diapers.

And all I'd hear from everyone around me was, "Aren't you glad to have time with your kids?  They will be grown up soon enough and you will miss them.  You should enjoy summer when you can relax."  Except summer never felt relaxing at all.  It was more about me trying to figure out how to get a break from the kids and how to get them to comply as it seemed they should.

The other day I was chatting with one of the moms at the playground next to the pool complex and I admitted that this summer is finally like I had always hoped it would be.  I was explaining how Scott is now, after three previous summers at this same place, going in to swim lessons on his own.  How Jane plays with other kids and barely even looks for me. 

As we talked, the mom confided that she understood all too well.  That her older, twin boys, had spent two years in an autistic support class.  That she knew what I meant when I explained how I had felt self-conscious.  Like all the other moms were wondering either what was wrong with my kid or why I was such an awful parent.

But time and understanding has not only changed the way I look at Scott but it has also allowed me to see myself more accurately.  Just like everyone else.  Doing the best I can.  And because of that, I can now feel comfortable.  I realize that we do fit in.  That summer can be for us, too!

My book group just finished reading Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult.  While it certainly wasn't the best book I've read, I did relate to several of the characters.  In particular I was drawn to the idea that these children of mine, the ones who hug me and tell me they love me 20 times a day, will soon be off in their own worlds.  They will be much more interested and influenced by their peers and will no longer want me to hang out with them.  While I know this is the natural order of things, it pains me to the core.  Suddenly the idea that I am so lucky to have this time with them, to enjoy our summer with lots of free time, becomes crystal clear. 

Perhaps I needed Scott to be in full day school last year to truly appreciate the summer.  As I had suspected, I missed him.  And possibly I also needed to grow up a bit myself, too.  To see that even though racing for certain goals has merit, there are also times when not having high expectations, to just going with the flow, is equally valuable.  Last year I vowed to embrace summer, but I couldn't force myself to do it.  This year it is happening all on its own.

There are reminders everywhere that I should have a tiny baby to care for in addition to these two children of mine.  That this summer was also supposed to be about welcoming a new member to our family.  My heart hurts when I see sweet newborn babies.  But then I refocus and look at my kids.  The ones that are sporting tans and sun-bleached hair.  Who are begging me to play with them. 

And I feel fortunate once again. 

To be their mother. 

To have this time. 

To create these memories for them and for myself.

And the Star-Dazzle Award Goes to ....

*** Fair warning that there is going to be some serious mommy bragging in this post.

I might have been complaining in my last post about the monotony of raising kids, but truth be told, I love being a mom.  And more specifically, I love being a mom of two kids.  These two kids.  Two very different children.  They can be quite frustrating and they both have their individual issues.  Well, Scott much more so than Jane, but she's been having some tantrums (and will not, for the love of God, go to sleep tonight) and being a girl does present some inherent challenges.

So, while I have been somewhat discontented lately, this past weekend was really what all parents look forward to.  The good stuff.  The things that our parents think of when they say, "when you kids were young was the best time of our lives."  The things that we look back on as kids and feel proud of.  The stuff of happy memories.

I should now turn the award ceremony over to someone else, not their mom, who might be able to be a little more objective, but it is my blog, so you get my proud momma version:

The Tiny Dancer

First up for her Star-Dazzle award is Jane.  Jane performed in her first dance recital this weekend.  She went to dance lessons all year for this and mom and dad forked over huge amounts of money.  Delilah covered it well in her post yesterday.

I was a bit concerned about the recital after Jane turned into a diva-in-training before the rehearsal, demanding that her hair be done a certain way and that she wear her favorite bright purple, shimmering lipstick.  But she was all business (show business that is) for the recital.  She was prepared and she ate it up like any small girl who gets to dress-up in a tutu should.  She even donned her purple, polka dot sunglasses while strutting into the building as if she was entering her dressing room; posing for photos and asking for her make-up to be reapplied.

As I dropped her off in the cafeteria, which was the holding room for all the performers, she smiled brightly and blew me a kiss.  "Have fun, sweetie!"  "I will mom!" 

My mind raced:  Is she nervous?  Will she cry?  Be overwhelmed?  Pee her pants?  Isn't this developmentally inappropriate to ask a just turned 4 year old child to get up on a high school auditorium stage in front of a packed audience?

But I forgot all of that as the curtain opened and group after group of girls, from 3 year olds all the way up to high school age, danced their numbers.  Many of the children I knew.  And I really started to cry when I saw Kate, clearly enjoying herself doing her routine just like the other girls, as happy as can be.

These kids were super stars!  What a great chance to have the memory of performing in front of an audience.  And Jane?  She was simply perfect.  As cute as a button, following along, twirling in her elaborate get-up.  Smiling, waving and blowing kisses to her fans.  I wanted to run right up on stage with her and hug her to pieces.

I'll be signing her up for next year, when she gets to wear tap shoes and make a lot of noise.  I can't wait.

The All Star Player

Second up, to share the award, is her brother, Scott.  Scott is finishing up his baseball season which completes his second rotation of soccer/basketball/baseball playing team sports.  Even though Scott takes these games very seriously, the idea is to get the children's feet wet in the world of sports.  Basketball this year was the first time that an official score was kept although the coaches still played down winning or losing trying to get the kids to learn how to play and have fun.

But for Scott it is about winning.  And this has been an issue as far as these junior leagues are concerned.  When the basketball league decided to have an all star game, Scott was sure he'd be selected to play, but he wasn't.  Not because he wasn't one of the better players but because it was his first year in the league and the coaches decided to have the older kids participate.

This made Scott's head explode.  The injustice!  Why should he bother to play?  When would he ever be recognized for his talent?

Well, the time has come because he was just offered a spot on the All Star baseball team!  And he gets to play with some of his best buddies from class.  His group.  The ones that he is now asking for play dates with.  My boy!  Is finding his group.  I might start crying again.

Scott has really struggled this spring with anxiety and OCD.  He can be volatile and downright sullen.  But this world of sports?  It is his thing.  His place.  He needs it and he deserves it.

There will be "scouts" there for the 8 year old travel team which he could be invited to play on next spring.  A real, competitive, every game matters type of opportunity.  I know many people think that that is not appropriate for his age.  But I defy them to see him in action and question whose motive it is to play.  He wants this and has been waiting. 

Is it any different than having your little girl perform in a recital?

Scott is the youngest member of his team and he is going to represent them in an All Star game.  He is thrilled.

Rising to the occasion

Scott was not happy about having to attend Jane's recital, but we felt that he should support his sister.  Earlier in the day as he was teasing her, I scolded him saying, "this is her one day, don't ruin it for her."  So, of course, he had to pout and be mad at me.  Matt and I exchanged glances thinking he better not make this moment about him.  It is always about him.  Typical first child.

But he sat through the whole recital without any complaints.  And when it was all over and Jane came off the stage she was so happy to see him there.  He gave her a big hug and congratulated her on her performance.   "Thanks, brother!" she beamed.

Can you see my heart bursting?

For a closing note, your proud momma MC would like to also share this little story:

Matt came home from work late today and was going to mow the lawn.  I had already planned to have dinner at my mom's and the kids were not expecting to see their dad until after they got home.  But he surprised them by coming over as they were eating.

Matt brought over his and Scott's baseball gloves and, in a teasing tone, asked Scott, "Now that you are a big shot All Star player, do you still have time to have a catch with your dad?"

Scott smiled and responded, "I'll always have time for you, Daddy.  Always."

That moment. 

These moments. 

The good stuff.

Let's Do the Time Warp Again

Lately I feel like my life is flying by at lightning speed.  2008 is practically half way done.  I am about to turn 40.  These children of mine are 7 and 4. 

I am in a tunnel with images whizzing by:

Me, in the house I bought on my own 10 years ago.
Scott as a baby, looking out the window.
Jane taking her first boat ride at the tender age of 4 months old.
Me, in my car, the one I bought back when I lived in DC, on my way home from NY with my teeny-tiny puppy.
Scott trying to ride a bike, arguing with Matt when he was 4.
Jane desperately trying to suck her thumb after she broke her wrist.
Me, as a child, playing with my neighbor.
Me, in high school, college, my first job out of school.
Me, traveling with my friend in Europe.
Me, with an old boyfriend.
Matt and I on our honeymoon.

I see backward and forward.  Snap shots captured in time.  A million small moments.  A lifetime already.  And yet I know I have so much more of my life to live.  Time is moving so quickly.  This must be what old people feel.  This sense of having experienced so much.  Of the treadmill gaining speed and you can barely hang on.  The years flying by.  Christmas then Summer in the blink of an eye.

And yet.

There is a certain Ground Hog Day quality to my life.  Here I am doing the laundry again.  Fixing up the morning medicines.  Putting out the toothbrushes.  Oh, Jane peed on the floor again?  Oh, Scott is complaining that his stomach hurts?  Matt shaking his head, we need to organizing things around here.  Another baseball game.  Another birthday party.

Yawn.

How is it possible to simultaneously feel like my life is speeding by and also be so bored by much of the day to day?

This time warp of days crawling by with dulling monotony and years piling up so fast I can't keep them straight?

Even as I write this, it sounds absurd.  My life is far from boring.  In fact, I often think that I need to figure out a way to make things slow down, to simplify, to, well, make things less chaotic.  Yet, even the unexpected has become predictable.  Am I just getting older and nothing surprises me anymore?  Is it that I need to shake things up a bit, break out of my routines?

I do know this:  The saying, "The days go by slowly but the years go by fast" has never felt more relevant than right now.

My Last Post About Puke, I Promise

This morning while I was in our downstairs office on the computer, Jane came running in saying she didn't feel good.  A few minutes before she had been happily watching TV and seemed perfectly fine to me.  I glanced over, distracted, "oh? what's wrong?"

"I feel like I'm going to throw up."

"What?  Really?"

We rushed into the bathroom, she lifted the toilet seat, and proceeded to vomit several times.  I sat there incredulously.  She couldn't possibly be sick again.  It wasn't the violent retching of last week, but puke all the same.

When she was done, she stood up, smiled a little and said, "I am all done now.  I'm not sick anymore."

I stared at her.  What the hell was going on in my house?

I feel like I need to call in those Hazmat guys in the suits to detox the place.

Now, although we haven't had the throw up virus in our home until recently, Jane has, on occasion, been sick to her stomach.  Over the holidays, she threw up after our annual Hanukkah party.  We suspected that she ate too many chocolate coins which prompted her to say, "I'm sick from the guilt," when she really meant "gelt," but it was so funny and appropriate that we didn't correct her.

It hit me that perhaps Jane is a Puker.  You know the type.  I had a friend in college who would get super drunk, feel sick, throw-up in the bushes outside a fraternity, wipe her mouth off with the bottom of her shirt, and grab a beer to wash down the taste.

My sister and her kids are also Pukers.  My sister used to get car sick when we were kids.  We'd pull over, she'd toss her cookies, and we'd get back on the road.  My nephew was so good at it, that by age 3, he barely needed a grown-up to help him (girls always need someone to hold their hair back).

Even Matt is a Puker.  Sometimes he gets sick from drinking or eating certain things.  The next day, it is as if it never happened.

I am not a Puker.  I am more like an anti-Puker.  The exact opposite of a Puker.  The last time I threw up was when Matt and I first started dating, 9 years ago.  I had mild food poisoning from some deli chicken salad.  I thought I might be dying.  Matt, non phased, still wanted to kiss me (after I brushed my teeth, of course).  I remember thinking, wow, he must really like me.

I am the type of person who can be nauseous for days (weeks, when pregnant) but cannot get myself to vomit.  I am terrified of throwing up, actually.  I can literally count on one hand how many times I've thrown up in my lifetime, and that includes two times when I was so drunk I don't even remember them.

Sure enough, Jane was completely fine all day long.  Her usual silly, fun, self.  I've been trying to figure out what her sudden throw up incident was all about.  Was it what she ate for breakfast?  Did she stick something in her mouth and gag?  Matt told me to just get over it.  Clearly it is my issue, not theirs.

A little while ago I called my mom to see what she was up to for the weekend and to check if she might be able to watch the kids at all.

"hello?"  I heard on the other end of the line.

"Mom?  Is that you?  You sound terrible."

"I'm sick."  The pathetic voice barely managed to get out.

"Oh, that's too bad, do you need anything?"

"No.  I tried to eat something and I threw it up."

"Oh, okay, well, sorry again, get some rest."  Oh, the guilt!

No more, I said!  Now you are picking on Grammy?  That is just wrong!

How the hell am I going to get away from all these sick people, if my babysitter is ill?

 

There's a Big Silver Lining in All This

When I complained about how the puke virus finally invaded our home, I did not express how fortunate I feel that it didn't happen until now.  At a time when it seems we can, and did, handle it pretty well.   A few years ago, or even last year, I really can't imagine how Scott would have reacted to the choking sensation.  To the foul smell and yucky taste in his mouth.  To the gunk coming out of his nose.  Although he was scared and obviously didn't like it (nobody does, of course) he reacted in a way that you'd expect.

I keep coming back to this idea of how, well, normal, he has been lately.  I do not use the word lightly because I think normal is very subjective.  But I guess I am trying to say that Scott has been acting, in most ways, like a typical six year old.  More so now than he has ever behaved in the past.  Possibly it is a combination of how much we've adjusted, natural maturing, and self and specialist taught coping mechanisms. 

He even said that the throwing up wasn't the end of the world, mostly just scary.  Huh?  From a kid who can't even stand the smell of my newspaper?  Who hates the way liquid feels on his face?

Yes, my kid.  Who has come so far.  Who is realizing that life throws you punches and curve balls and you can make adjustments and move on.  Who actually let me wipe his face with a paper towel the other day.

I can see now that as he is getting older, he can control his environment more himself.  He can move the newspapers.  He can go wash his face off.  Just like how I always wear my sunglasses and only read when it is quiet.  I can make those choices because I understand myself and because I am capable.  I don't have to ask someone to help me.

A few weeks ago when he was all wound up before bed time, I yelled at him that he was driving me crazy.  "Settle down!"  I screamed.  About 10 minutes later, he very calmly said, "I watched a little tv, sat in the big chair and chewed on that yellow thing and now I feel much better."  He knows what to do.

And here is the big kicker:  Due to being sick, Scott hasn't been eating with his normal voracious appetite.  So his system has been off and he hasn't been pooping regularly.  I only skipped one day of Miralax because I am so afraid of him having any kind of constipation issues even though he did have some diarrhea (oh, yes, in the middle of the night, I forgot to add that to my highlights, it brought back such fond memories).

Anyway, he left for school yesterday without going to the bathroom for over 24 hours.  Usually, a huge cause for concern, but what could I do?  After he was home for a few hours, he casually said, "oh, yeah, mom, I forgot to tell you that I pooped at school today."  And then he just went back to doing whatever he had been.

I was shocked.  And once again I had to adjust how I view my son.  How much more capable he really is.  How I am the one who may be holding him back sometimes, trying to protect him, schedule things out so that there aren't any surprises.  Even plan his pooping.

As much as I dread the vomit virus, I will concede that it has shown me that we can handle more than I thought. 

Now, please, no more visits until at least next year. 

I finally finished all the laundry.

The Wrong Kind of Spring Fever

Like most people, I used to look forward to spring.  The opportunity to get outside, the longer days, warmer weather and the end of a school year in sight.  The problem was that I grew up and went to school where there never is much of a spring season.  Winter is still going strong into March with a few nice days, if you are lucky.  True warmer weather doesn't kick in until April and then, in the blink of an eye, or perhaps a few short weeks, it is blazing hot outside and everyone turns on their air conditioners.

When I lived in Washington DC, I fell in love with spring (don't worry Fall, you are still my first love ) and in particular, the once dreaded month of March.  In Pennsylvania and even more so in upstate New York where all my relatives live, March is the gloomiest month of the year.  By that time you are so desperate for spring's warm air and new growth but are met every day with a dull, gray sky.  Seriously, try March in Syracuse, NY, you'll know what I mean.

I used to wish March away, looking forward to when the clocks would change and April would finally arrive.  Even Easter didn't usually occur until after March.  But in DC, oh how lovely March was.  Cherry Blossoms and meals outside.  People biking and running on the paths by the water.  Festivals for St. Patrick's Day.  Clear blue skies and green things growing.  Flowers and birds.  All this lasted not for a short week or two, but for a full two months until the oppressive heat and humidity took hold through the summer.

Now that I am back in the land of little springtime, you'd think I would eagerly look forward to what few days we have.  But no, now I have a new issue with spring:  The end of April marks not just one child's birthday, but both.  Sure, you can combine somethings and it does cut down on jealousy between them.  But holy busy hell has the month of April become.  As I wrote last year, it is second only to the month of December for our family.

For the record, I am not a crazy, huge birthday party, invite everyone and get a pony in the backyard kind of person.  It is just that even small gatherings include planning and organizing.  And the bottom line is that two at the same time is a lot.  And as soon as it is done, May brings many more family birthdays, holidays, and then you are already into summer.

So now March means a prelude to all that.  Where I once couldn't wait for the month to be over, I now feel it flying by too quickly.  Wait.  Stop.  I haven't finished putting away the Christmas decorations.  I don't know what we will plant in the garden.  I need to set up summer camps and classes.  The clocks were changed so early, it is light well past dinner.  I am not ready yet. 

And what are we going to do for those birthdays this year?  Jane has friends from preschool and wants all girly stuff and Scott wants sports.  Who will they invite?  Where should we have it?  I am already having an anxiety attack.

But even before I get all worked up about that, what happened to January and February anyway?  I know I wasn't asleep because I did do stuff, but I was in some sort of fog.  I couldn't figure out if I was depressed or just aimless.  I felt tired all the time, but I thought that was because of the running which really wears me out.  I kept playing my time game and felt very introspective.  And the kids were in this nice, stable, easy place.  Things seemed, dare I say it, manageable, for the first time, really, since Scott was born.

I knew I wasn't taking advantage of the lull.  But I also felt exhausted from all the stress of last fall and from the years of constant issues.  One thing after another, never finding our footing long enough for the dust to settle.  I wanted to rest.  To enjoy the fruit of my labor for a bit.  Perhaps I floundered too long to no real purpose.

A few weeks ago, Matt and I went out to dinner and I was complaining about not knowing what I wanted to do next.  Should I pursue a teaching degree or maybe another career path?  I told him that one thing that really bothered me was that I wanted to write more but couldn't justify the time and effort required.  We agreed that I needed to carve out time for it and that I would start getting up early, like I used to, but for whatever reason (lazy? depressed? exhaustion?) couldn't seem to do lately.

Just as that was agreed upon, the sleepless nights started.  Jane with asthma.  The dog up during thunder storms.  The dog sick.  And then my nightmare:  The puke sickness invaded our home.  NO!!  I do not throw up, you hear me?  And I can handle poop much better than vomit.  We have been soooo lucky.  I knew it was bound to happen, but I thought I kind of had a deal with Karma about the puke thing.  I must have pissed her off.  I was too smug about how Scott never gets sick.  I told people about how we always wash our hands and the kids eat well and get enough sleep.  I even (cringe) blabbed about how easy things had been around here with an almost 7 year old and and an almost 4 year old.

Well, I can't go back now and undo any of that, as if it would change the last two weeks of sleepless hell anyway.  A few highlights:

Jane threw up over and over while sleeping.  I stared at her and repeated, pleases stop, please stop, this must be the last time, while I jumped up to help her throw up without choking. 

Matt put her in our bed, just for a bit, so we could clean her bed, because we are such novices at this kind of parenting and clearly anyone else would have known that she'd then puke all over our bed, also.

I did laundry non-stop for days and almost tossed out a few towels because I just couldn't pick off all the vomit chunks anymore.

Matt had to travel 3 hours each way, two days in a row for meetings on hardly any sleep and then spent his weekend also crouched in front of the toilet.

Scott had a half day on Friday (one of only 4 for the whole year) and within 10 minutes of getting off the bus, he threw up all over my bed (yes, again, my room, because I am a slow learner and I really didn't think he would get sick because he hadn't ever before).

Scott cried and wanted me to hold his hand while sitting in the bathroom because he was terrified.  He thought he was dying, or perhaps choking, and would stand up and try to stop himself from getting sick and thus effectively got vomit all over himself time and time again.

I cried too, for him, because I think throwing up is worse than anything.  Really.  I think I'd rather break a limb than have to endure the violent retching that my poor family had to go through.

My hands are completely raw and chaffed from repeated hand washing.

Matt and I tried to go running on Saturday morning even though we were both tired (I was supposed to run 9 miles).  We got caught in a downpour and had to come home drenched.  I took a shower and then got back into bed (at 11am) and hardly ate anything until tonight, 3 days later (I am the only one who did not throw up).

Fun times here.  I am wildly behind in absolutely everything.  Totally stressed about my race that is coming up in less than 7 weeks.  Easter decorations aren't up, nor are basket items procured.  I am off schedule now with my running training.  Our dog seems to be sicker more often (my baby!).  March is already one third over.

And I have birthday parties to plan.

I do think I've stop floundering about, though.  Nothing like a little kick in the pants, or vomit in the house, to get you back on your game.

I so should have seen this coming.

 

Dear Manic Mommies

Hi Erin and Kristin -

I've been a loyal listener for over a year now, since right after Christmas 2006 when I received my iPod Nano.  I even went back and caught up on all your archives, initially.  I love, love, love your podcast!  Every week I find myself wanting to respond to something you've said, whether it is how hard I laughed about Kristin telling her husband she dented his car, or how I could empathize about hearing that your Kindergarten kids are the worst behaved bus riders the seasoned driver has ever encountered.  Even though I am a SAHM, I relate to most of what you say.  And I particularly like your "we're all in this together" attitude which you maintain even while sharing your opinions or advice.

You may remember me as the person who won the Wii last year.  My son often tells people that I won it in a contest by a "mommy" podcast.  Usually people have no idea what a podcast is so they just nod their heads.  They don't know what the are missing!!  And the Wii has totally improved our life, so thank you again.

Even though I enjoy your podcasts and have much to add to each one, I rarely call or write in.  But this week I could not keep silent!  You hit on not one, but two, of my big issues.  Holding kids back for Kindergarten and Day Care Centers.  In fact, I even suggested you do a show on the whole red-shirting thing, sometime last year.  My parents owned a Day Care School for 15 years and I worked there for the last 3 years.  My mother has taught preschool through second grade students and is a strong advocate for holding children back.  I am pretty opinionated on these two subjects and I feel like I know you two (even though I don't) so since you asked for advice I am going to give it.  I hope it helps.

The Kindergarten situation

Anders

As you have indicated, I think you have to hold him back, or give him a grow year, or repeat Kindergarten, or whatever you want to call it.  Do not think that you made the wrong decision by sending him to Kindergarten, though.  He is learning a ton and will feel that much more comfortable and confident with the school and the teacher when he attends next year.  Even though he has been out of the house since he was young, a day care center environment is very different from the public school and many kids need more time to get used to it.  Because Anders had already graduated from his preschool, it only made sense for him to attend Kindergarten.  I agree with his teacher's assessment that based on his current academic standing and his emotional sensitivity that he needs another year to "cook".  Also, statistics do show that kids who start out behind tend to remain playing catch-up, but that is not always the case.

My sister has a fall birthday and to this day both she and my mother feel that they made a mistake by not holding her back.  She has always struggled with reading and has never been a confident student.  In addition, she was always younger than her classmates which meant that she did everything later and felt left out.  Her son, who is now 10, has a July birthday.  He is small for his age and based on her experience and his teachers recommendations, she had him repeat Kindergarten.  He is now excelling in fourth grade and still has friends in the fifth grade along with his classmates. 

As for telling him, I would suggested framing it as an opportunity (I know you already know this).  He will be able to be like his rock star girl friend who knows everything.  Instead of being the last to do things, he will be the first.  If he wants to play sports, he will be the older, stronger, bigger kid, and have an advantage.  He may be mad, but he will get over it.  Remember, he is still relatively young and years from now he will thank you.  I promise!   The hardest part is that he is such good friends with Tommy.  My son, Scott, has friends who are in the class ahead and behind his and it is great to widen their circle.  Plus Tommy can give him a heads up on all the things he will be doing next.

Now, this is important (because I said I was going to give you my opinions as if I know you):  Go get the book Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons.  In the beginning of the school year, this fall, start the lessons.  Anders will be a little bored with school because Kindergarten starts out slow.  But this will give him something to work on and he will be reading, I guarantee, by Christmas.  He will feel so happy and successful.  Everything will be perfect!  OK, I am getting a little carried away, but seriously, it is a fabulous program, only takes 10 - 20 minutes per day and is so worth it (you could do it after dinner each night).  Scott is an excellent reader, two grade levels ahead, and I credit a lot of it with doing this program.  I do not think that he would have learned how to read the way they teach it in school.  Being a strong reader is an important building block for all other subjects.  Think about it.  When the teacher puts something up on the board and all the other kids are trying to remember what she said, Anders will be able to read it.  He will be a superstar.  (Not that he isn't already, but you know what I mean).

Tommy

Where I live, in PA, holding kids back for behavior is pretty standard.  Although I agree that Anders should be held back, I think Tommy's situation is completely different.  Tommy seems to be similar to my son.  Scott was a serious behavior problem back in preschool and was diagnosed with a condition called Sensory Processing Disorder (you can read more about our story here, if you want).  At the time of his diagnosis there was much discussion as to whether he should do a grow year.  I looked into programs and had him evaluated several times.  We stressed about whether he could handle the Kindergarten environment given his lack of self control and out-of-bounds behavior. 

The term immature came up several times but I always found this confusing and an inadequate description.  Although he had trouble controlling himself in a group of kids, he was very mature with grown-ups.  He could discuss complicated topics and sit still for a long time.  I learned that it was the structure of the classroom that mostly did him in (that and the fact that he needed OT for some of his issues).

We were seeing a psychologist at the time and she urged us to have him attend Kindergarten on schedule.  Her opinion was that he needed a structured environment which challenged him academically.  She also pointed out that Scott needed appropriate role models in the form of older, more in control classmates.  If the other kids were being silly or acting out, he would follow right along, but when he was with older children, he would be less inclined to do those things.  She was right on the money.  And although there have been some blips along the way, I am so glad that we didn't keep him back.  He received all S's and +'s on his current report card, even in the work habits/behavior area.

Aside from the SPD, Tommy reminds me of Scott.  You should ask for a meeting with the school, not just send a letter, to discuss his continued success.  Just like you, they want him to do well and do not want him to require some sort of discipline plan. (As an aside there has been research conducted that shows that kids who are difficult early in their academic careers do not end up trouble makers all their lives.  He is not doomed to a life of being the bad kid!).  He needs a strong teacher who will not only make the rules and following them clear, but will also challenge him academically.  Also, if he can be tested for an enrichment (gifted) type of program, you may want to consider it.

The right teacher is very important, as is the structure of the classroom.  I would suggest that the teacher find stuff for Tommy to do to keep him busy.  He is calling out because he is bored and the work is too easy.  He is looking for attention.  That is what I think.  He will also be a superstar when he is given the opportunity to shine.  (Of course he already is, but you know what I mean).

Day Care

You asked how people handle issues they might have at their day care center.  I am going to offer the other side, the administrator perspective.

First and foremost, treat everyone at the day care center as well as you would your coworkers.  I know this sounds like common sense, but all too often, customers would talk down to the teachers and assistants as if they were no better than a teenage babysitter.  These people are taking care of your children, treat them kindly, show them respect, act appreciative. 

This goes for the administration as well.  Pay on time.  Don't show up late (and if you do, apologize profusely and pay whatever fee is applicable).  Day care centers spell out all their rules ahead of time.  You are not going to change them.  If you don't like them, you can say so, but don't expect the center to change.  You have a choice, they do not have to accommodate you.  Owning and operating a day care is a very difficult endeavor.  Although it seems like you are paying a lot of money, there is very little to go around once the large payroll, rent, insurance and other bills are paid.  The employees do not make much money, but are expected to care for children which can often be quite trying and stressful.

That said, if you already have a relationship with the school administrators, it is fair for you to ask for specific changes, or discuss issues, just like you would at a job.  Are you going to gripe the first week of a new job?  Of course not.  But you might ask your boss for something after you've proven your track record as a good employee.  And whatever it is that you might be asking about, do it in a professional, courteous manner.  This is true for anything, but for some reason it needs to be reiterated in the world of childcare.

Also, do not gossip with the day care employees.  Do not put them in a position to either talk about another child, a teacher, or the administration.  Same as it goes at work.  Talk to a teacher first, before you go over their head, but realize that they are trying to meet everyone's demands as well as follow their boss' rules, so be reasonable.  For the most part, people who work in day cares like little kids, there are plenty of other easier and better paying jobs that they could have. 

My mother and I used to joke that there were 3 kinds of day care parents:

1.  The people who were so glad that you were taking care of their children.  They would thank us all the time saying, "better you than me" and were happy to go to work knowing that their kids were well taken care of.  They had reasonable expectations and knew that they could not control everything, but felt that overall, the arrangement was positive.  They liked that their kids were with other children, could play outside on the playground, do art projects, etc.  Their motto:  Thank god you are here.

2.  The  people who were resentful that they had to go to work when they really wanted to stay home.  They were unhappy with the cost of the tuition, thought that they weren't getting enough for their money, felt that the owners must be getting rich off of their misfortune, and wished that they could afford a nanny so that they felt more in control.  They would grunt at us when they came in and out, barely read any newsletters, and often complained.  Their motto:  I am miserable and so should every one else be.

3.  The people that were paranoid that they were ruining their children by putting them in day care and were looking all the time for some kind of breech in conduct by an employee.  They questioned every time a child or teacher moved from one class to another or a family or teacher left the school.  They hung out way too long every morning and afternoon, afraid they might miss picking up some vital information that would prove their suspicions were justified.  Their motto:  Day care is evil and not to be trusted.

Obviously, the first people were the ones who had the best experience!

Wow, that was an earful, right?!  Anyway, I am sure it will all work out with the Kindergarten/First Grade thing and I hope I was able to provide some insight into the day care world.

Keep up the great podcasts!  I look forward to them and to your blog posts each week.

Your friend and fellow mommy,

Lori at Spinning Yellow

Star of the Week

Scott is Star of the Week in his first grade class.  We received a schedule during Back to School Night with each child's special week listed.  Because our last name starts with a letter near the end of the alphabet, Scott's turn is now, instead of earlier in the school year.  I thought this would be a problem last year when he kept asking me, "when do I get to be the star?"  But it proved both then and now to be better timing for him.

Last year, in Kindergarten, Star of the Week included making an All About Me poster, bringing in show and tell items, and the grand finale, having relatives visit the classroom.  Because I could, I arranged to pick up my nephew (who was 9 at the time) from his private school and bring him to Scott's public school along with Jane.  The 3 of us arrived with a treat (Skittles) and books to read to the class. 

Scott had fretted all week about which book I should read.  He dismissed book after book for being boring or dumb.  He worries that the other children won't like what he chooses.  Finally, after much stress, we had settled on Green Eggs and Ham. 

Scott was so excited to have his favorite cousin, who he looks up to, at his school.  But I was concerned that all the hoopla would backfire.  We had experienced plenty of times when hype turned to disappointment or even worse, a public meltdown.  Once we were seated in front of his fellow students, I pulled out the book to read.

Scott looked at me and said very matter-of-factly, "I'll read it, mom."  I knew that he could read this book easily, but the idea that he would feel confident enough to do it in front of his class, took me by surprise.   He read the whole thing, which is pretty long, without faltering.  At one point I caught the teacher's eye and she smiled.  It was difficult for me not to start crying.

Afterward, I told his teacher how surprised I was, and she said that it was something he can remember forever.  I knew I would always remember how proud I was of him and how confident and poised he was, but what she said has stuck with me, too, for the last year.  That he could feel proud of himself.  That he would have this moment when he took a chance and it worked out.  His moment to truly be a star.

I also realized that had it been the beginning of the school year, he wouldn't have felt comfortable enough with his classmates to do such a thing.  So I figured it was just as well that his turn this year was after most of the kids had already had their chance.  The down side to this is that the pressure to do something different or better is greater.

The last few days have been fraught with making decisions about his poster, show and tell items, and his special visitor time.  Apparently this year, the relatives (usually just the mom), not only read a story and bring a treat, but also play a game of some sort.  I've heard there's been limbo and freeze dance.  Scott wants something original.  Any ideas for me?  Please help me here, I don't know what to do.

I am a little worried about the whole thing because Scott is doing exactly what he has always done prior to these kinds of events.  He keeps saying, well so and so won't like that game, or that's too boyish, the girls won't like it.  This is similar to what happens before his birthdays when he says, "that kid won't like it and won't want to come."  Matt and I end up saying, exasperated, "It's your party!  You should do what you want to do!"  But he is either laking in self confidence that the other kids like him or he is overly concerned with making everyone happy.

Whatever is the case, he is super excited about Jane and I visiting.  He decided to have Sour Skittles as his treat (I have to procure those tomorrow!) and then finally, he chose the book, The Giving Tree.  A lovely book, for sure, but one that makes me a little emotional.  He said he might read it or just have me do it.

I kind of hope he does, because I might have a little trouble speaking clearly through my tears.

 

Can You Do This Homework?

Yesterday Scott's homework had a series of patterns to be deciphered by the child and continued to the edge of the page.  It looked like this:

There were obvious patterns like |::|::|::   Seeing how this pattern should continue is a piece of cake for Scott.  But being able to make the lines and dots in a way that shows his understanding is a completely different story.  He has learned how to write by feeling the motions he is supposed to make, not by looking at a picture and copying it.  In fact, he often writes more clearly when he isn't referring to a proper letter and just goes slowly.  Whenever he has to look at something and attempt to replicate it, he has trouble.

I didn't try this, but I am quite certain that if I asked Jane, at age 3, to copy the line and dot pattern, she'd be able to do it better than he did.  She can draw people with faces and copy simple pictures already (one of the few ways she takes after me).

I don't think it is necessarily important to be able to do this copying thing well.  But it does illustrate how crucial the OT was for him to be able to write legibly and keep up in school. 

In addition to the abstract patterns, the homework also included several letter sequences.  When Scott hears "pattern" he thinks, "repeating".  So when he saw A, b, C, d, E, f, ....  He started back at A and did the series the same way,  A - f.  I knew the answer was G, h, I, j, K, L, m..... but wasn't sure if I should correct him (I did later).

Then things got a little more complicated.  The next letter question went: a, a, z, z, b, b, y, y,  .... He got that one (after a few minutes). 

Don't skip ahead.  Try this one on your own:  a, b, a, b, c, a,   ,   ,   ,   ,   ,   ,   , e   (fill in the blank spaces).

Did it take you a few minutes?  Do you think that anything a first grader should do, especially homework that is supposed to take ten minutes, tops, should be tricky for a grown-up?  Matt said, "well maybe she was testing them, trying to see who would be able to get it".  OK, but give a heads up, because when I see homework, I expect it to be a reinforcement of what has already been learned and certainly not so difficult that a parent, one who does logic and math problems for fun, finds semi-challenging.

Maybe that was easy for you.  Here's the next one:  a, b, A, c, a, d, A,  ,   ,   ,   ,   ,   , h 
Hmmm, I see an alternating pattern.

Last one:   z, y, y, x, w, w, v,   ,   ,   ,   ,   ,   , q

To his credit, Scott did catch on by that last one, but it still took him a good 40 minutes to do this with my help.  And he didn't have a meltdown about it, hurray!

Oy!  My head hurt.

I did leave his teacher a quick note about how hard this homework was, but it is not a huge deal, just one of those things that I felt didn't seem right.

So I'm curious, how'd you do?