No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.

I like to volunteer at school. It's an opportunity to be a fly on the wall and sneak a hug with the eight year old during her school day. I signed up to serve lunch. It's a pretty easy gig. You get a basket for each grade, load the baskets with food and then eighth grade kids come to deliver the baskets to each class room - easy. Usually.

Yesterday I got all set up and waited. Waiting is fun for a mom with an over loaded schedule. I daydreamed, played with my hair and hummed a little song to myself. After a while I realized something was wrong - no eighth graders. I checked in with the office and found out that he eighth grade are away on a field trip. No problem - I will just run the baskets around myself.

The eight year old was delighted to see me in her class room. She helped me pass out the lunches and got first pick at the fruit choices. Then it was time for me to go. I've served lunch before. I volunteer at school regularly but for some reason yesterday was different. She started to cry. She clung onto me and begged me not to leave. Oh dear.
Her teacher suggested we go outside. I hugged her in the corridor and explained I'd be back soon for pick up.

"Nooooooooo, don't go, stay with me. Take me with you." Ugh.

I explained that I couldn't and that I really had to go. Looking at my watch I saw that it was pre-school pick up time in 5 minutes and I was at least 20 minutes away. The three year old will be watching the door for my arrival. Despair comes to mind. Not real despair but parental despair. I am going to get this wrong for one of them. Likely both of them. It's so unfair - I was trying to do something helpful.

Although she is still crying I walked the eight year old back to her class door and tell her I really must go and she must go in.
"I won't be able to help at school if it makes you sad," I say.
We open the door and she goes in. I give her a last kiss and close the door. She has a last minute panic and grabs for the door.
The door closes on three of her fingers.

I can still hear that wail. It's at moments like this that I feel the urge to run away and let someone else deal with the mess.
I swear I can hear my watch ticking as I am more and more late for the three year old. The eight year old is screaming in pain now. People come out of other class rooms to see see what is happening. We go to the office for ice. EVERYBODY asks what happened. I get to say over and over that I, her mother, shut her fingers in a door. One child asks me if I did it as a punishment?! In all the chaos the lunch company come for their supplies and take some lunches away with them that I hadn't had time to deliver.

In the end, of course, all was well. The lunches were retrieved. The eight year old, with no permanent injury, went back to her class. The three year old, although a little upset at my late appearance, got to play with a friend and was fine. I have many more gray hairs and spent some considerable time cursing Murphy and his damn law but no real harm was done. I may opt to sit on my couch with a good book next time.

Toddler Tweets.

@playgroup I'm next on the swing y'all.

@pullupprincess Does my bum look big in this?

@grabbyhands Can I have a turn with that?

@delipackinmom Woohoo I have strawberries!

@momoffour Where are you?

@upsincesix If you're quiet you can play all the way through nap time people.

@preK Now I know my ABC's - won't you sing along with me?

@playgroup Seriously, it was my turn.

@workingmom The nanny's on the phone again.

@ERfourtimes Who says two year olds can't climb trees.

@laundrylovingmom Who knew? Blueberries turn your clothes blue - try it!

@grabbyhands Now can I have a turn with it?

@playgroup Quick Caitlyn has Cheesits.

@momoffour The baby is eating sand again.

@playgroup There were no cheesits but in other news - I'm on a swing!

@pullupprincess time for a fresh one friend.

@playgroup Tom has a green booger. It's huge.

@laundrylovingmom last in the puddle is a silly goose.

@upsincesix I don't like coffee but my mom likes coffee. She really likes coffee.

@grabbyhands it's nice to share dude.

@ERfourtimes head first on the slide - weeeeeeeeeee!

@pullupprincess seriously, go ask your mom for a clean pair.

@playgroup Awwww. I have to go. No fair.

@playgroup Same time next week?





Thanks to Alisa for this cute idea.

The Right Write.

Blogging is endlessly interesting to me. The debate over whether it is real writing may never find a conclusion but to me it doesn't matter. It's all in the interpretation and I am constantly surprised and intrigued by how many different interpretations there can be.

My post on Amy Winehouse brought in more comments than I often get. I don't usually get a lot of comments here on blogger, more of you comment on FB or email me directly. Even more of you are silent, (she says fishing.) The comments I did get were overwhelmingly complementary and positive. It prompted me to ask The Husband if he had read it yet. He hadn't. I presented him with my laptop feeling a little, OK a lot, pleased with myself.
He read it and then announced he found my writing to be "difficult to follow and all over the place."
"Great sentiment but not your best writing" he said supportively. A spirit crushing proverb from my childhood came to mind - pride comes before a fall. The sound of my balloon popping hung in the air.

We 'discussed' his comments for a while. "I guess I just don't always get blogging." he said. I know lots of people feel the same way. They want polish and solid editing. They want well written and grammatically correct. Well you can find that in the blogosphere but you can also find thoughts and words just poured in a pile.

When I read a beautifully written post like this LISTEN. I feel like a fake. That's writing. That deserves to be published. Then I receive an email that tells me that my words moved someone to tears or encouraged them or comforted them and I think well that's worthwhile too.

Often your comments, to me, bear no relation to my post. Those are my favorite. In my mind I was so clearly writing about one thing. Stating one point of view. It was obvious. Unmissable. A one line comment then shows me that it was read and interpreted in a completely different way. I can't help but feel there's a little bit of magic there. For me, it means I don't have to worry about how my thoughts will be received because I can't control it. My words will fall on your ears however your inner voice plants them there. They may bear very little of my original intent. it doesn't matter.

That's the joy of blogging. I write to exorcise something that is rattling around my head or my heart. I write to share something funny or ironic. I write to get support and feel community. It don't have to be Shakespeare or Tolstoy because you will like it or not. Be inspired or bored. Comment or be silent. Come back or not.

Please do come back though, I'd miss you if you were gone.

Lessons From Survivor.

Watching mom of six Dawn have her first day meltdown on Survivor was like a slap in the face.
I knew exactly what she was going through.
Well, not exactly exactly. I have never been marooned on a South Pacific Island with a bunch of loons and a camera crew but in every other way, exactly.

As she tried, in vain, to convince everyone that shelter and food should be the first priorities, I saw her begin to unravel.
She spent the next day in tears, overwhelmed. She was clumsy and made mistakes. As a mom of six, she is usually very organized, busy 24/7, her life revolves around structure, routine and schedule. Faced with very little to do - she was lost.

I watched her confusion. Why didn't the group see the need for shelter? The need to have roles and assign tasks. Why was no-one listening to her? If I were watching this as a twenty something I probably would have just thought she was an inflexible, control freak who needed to return home asap. As a parent I saw how ingrained her believe in structure is. I could see myself in her. I could see many of the parents I know. The need to prepare for every eventuality. The need to be organized so that the kids have what they need, when they need it.

It's something I find trips me up. I stress about it. If you could see me agonizing over vacation choices you would see how unattractive this habit can be. What if the kids won't like the food? What if the bed arrangement won't work? Will we take our stroller/car seats/travel crib? What if the rental ones are no good/not comfy/not clean?
Should we take diapers or buy them there? What if they don't have our regular brand - will our kid wear them? Should I take 10 days worth of their favorite snacks (to make sure they eat something), their bedding (to make sure they sleep), their favorite toy (to make sure they are comforted) the lists, and thoughts, are endless.
I have watched the husband look at me wondering who kidnapped his wife and put this crazy women, who cannot shut off her brain, in his home.

I was not always this way. I was, once a throw some clothes in a bag and drive to the airport with not so much as a ticket, kind of girl. What happened? Well parenthood, obviously and sleep deprivation. That's where is starts.
Sleep deprivation will lead you to do anything that might buy you another 30 minutes prone. If bringing a blanket, a binkie, a stuffy, that book, the sippie cup, those pajamas *might* mean your child will sleep in a strange room, in a foreign place - you will gladly pay excess baggage.

Here's the thing, Dawn (remember her from the first paragraph) didn't have her kids with her. So what was her problem?
I'll tell you - conditioning. As parents we must run a very tight ship. It's not just the judgment of our peers - which can be vicious. It's society, it's the law. We need to plan out each day with military precision. You can't be late for school or it goes on your kids record. You can't be late for pick up because you get fined. You can't miss the doctor or dentist because you have to re-schedule and pay for it anyway. You can't be late for classes or you may not be admitted. You can't leave you kids alone for a second because if something happens, you can be arrested or even jailed. Someone notices if they are missing their lunch, the right gear, their safety helmet. Notes are made. It's no wonder we feel the need to be in absolute control of our kids at all times - big brother is watching and waiting to judge or worse.

What happened to autonomy? What happened to training in your regular clothes because your soccer strip is still in the wash?
What happened to understanding that traffic sometimes gets in the way of punctuality? Why can't our kids still ride their bikes at a friends, just this one time, because the helmet was forgotten. It's a bigger conversation but one that needs to happen. Letting parents make informed, good decisions for their family without fear of repercussions.

And you thought watching evening TV was to relax you......

Too School for Cool.

The first day of school has been the subject of so many blog posts, facebook updates and tweets this week. The pictures are so cute. All the excited, expectant and nervous faces of kids aged three and up. The carefully selected first day outfits, shiny new shoes and backpacks.

We all know the truth behind this veneer. Xanax sales are probably through the roof. The stress and anxiety is palpable. We are no exception - although currently Xanax free. The three year old started pre-school. The eight year old started third grade.

Here's what I've noticed, the kids for the most part are fine, it's the parents who are struggling. Sure, leaving your child in tears with relative strangers is bound to tug on the heartstrings but that doesn't seem to be the issue. It's the comparisons. Who's lost/gained weight. Who bought the cutest stuff for their kids. Who is wearing Missoni for Target and who is just wearing Target. Who looks tan, tired or sick. Who has a new car. Who travelled where over the holidays. Who is getting divorced or re-married. Who is pregnant. Who has signed up to help - who hasn't.

Then it struck me - it's just like being back in high school. The parents are all trying to find their place. Hoping to be friends with the cool kids. We want the same for our kids but we really want it for us too. The tension is high.

Does this madness never end? Will we be feeling this every year until our kids are finally out of college?
Please Note: If the answer to this is yes, I would like you to lie to me.

Of course, I am not one of those anxious, need to fit in types. I was just observing this phenomenon. My insomnia this week has not been related to this in any way.
Not to worry, the holidays are right around the corner to distract us.

Mind The Gap.

I knew going to BlogHer was going to expand my horizons. I expected to learn about new things and hear different perspectives. I didn't expect one of these things to be The Military. At one of the parties I got talking to Laura. I asked the standard BlogHer introductory question - "What's your blog?" and when she told me, I exclaimed the words that every blogger wants to hear, "Oh! I read you!"
I don't know how I came across this blog - I just did. I liked the writing and came back.

I am not overtly political. I have my views. I think I am more of a one world kinda gal - peace, love, bunnies and flowers.
I tend to see both sides of a story and therefore hedge somewhere in the middle ground with a 'can't we all just be friends' look on my face. My views on the current world conflicts are varied but if asked I would say that my view on the military is bring them all home - safe.

I understand that people join the military for a myriad of reasons. Some I can't comprehend and others that make perfect sense to me. Truthfully, it's not a topic I have given a lot of thought too. I am always sad to hear casualties announced. I do take the time to send a prayer to those affected. It's just not something that is a large part of my life. I do not know any one in the armed forces. I know of people in a , my friend's brother is in Iraq right now, kind of way. I have no connection. When I read Laura's blog it was more about family and juggling schedules to me. Then I met her.

We talked over cocktails for no more than 20 minutes and in the time I learned more about the chasm between civilian and military families than I even could have considered existed. As I listened to one families' experience, I realized this woman was just like me. She is a wife, a mother, educated, creative - the difference is she lives whole years of her life without her spouse.
She raises her children as a single mom whilst investing enormous energy into making sure they feel connected to their absent father.

I realized I am connected.

As I sat at the airport gate waiting my flight home a family arrived - a mom, two cute little girls in stars and stripes dresses with red, white and blue hair ties and her brother and sister in law. You could feel the excitement. They had a huge sign that said,
'Welcome Home Sgt. David Jones. Husband, Father, Hero!'

Sgt. David Jones was arriving in on the plane I would leave on. I watched (and cried) as they peered down the jetway for the first glimpse. In what can only be described as irony (or poor airline management) he was almost last off the plane. Even I felt agonized by the wait. When he finally appeared,the entire gate area cheered for this husband, father and hero as he swept up his girls into a long hug.

It made me realize that regardless of my politics there are families that need support. There are mommas that walk a very difficult path so I don't have to. I owe them my support.

Stop by Semper Fi Momma and see what inspiration to support you may find there.

Gavin.

We decided to go camping for the holiday weekend. The thing I find with camping is that a whole trip can be made or broken by your campsite neighbors. I always have a little trepidation as we arrive. Will there be a group of twenty somethings with their music pounding all hours? Will it be a sweet old couple who I feel we might disturb with our two energy filled children?

We pulled up to find another family. I relax at the site of two adults and two kids. The eight year old is not quite so happy to note they are yucky boys but I, for now, am happy. We exchange hello's and all seems well. The children begin the meeting new kids ritual of shy smiles, staring and drawing circles on the ground with their feet.

We start to set up camp. My uh-oh antenna raises within five minutes.

"GAVIN NO!" "GAVIN STOP!" "GAVINNNNNNNN!"

There is a small bush and about three feet separating our sites. They must know we are hearing everything.

Gavin appears to be about six or seven. He also appears to be in trouble permanently. I begin to feel sad for him almost instantly. Over the course of the weekend Gavin is in trouble for getting dirty and touching things - any thing. He is shouted at for trying to help, for not helping, for being in the way, for wandering off. From my view he is crying out to be included. He just wants some attention. His rock collection which he brings with such enthusiasm to show his Dad is disregarded with,
"They are rocks Gavin."
I watch him hang his head when his Dad speaks to him and my heart aches when he starts singing to himself 'Jesus Loves Me This I know' while standing, lonely, under a tree.

He seems to irritate his parents simply by his presence and to my absolute horror is slapped several times by his father for minor things. My children are confused to see this and my husband and I struggle to explain. I want so badly to go over there and talk with them.
Do they not see how they don't include him and how much he wants to help and be a part of things?
Do they not see that he is too young to wait quietly in a chair for 30 minutes while his meal cooks? Could they not give him some jobs to do?
Do they not know that questions like: Why did you do that - mean nothing to a six year old?
Do they not hear how they never use a kind or loving tone when they speak to him?
Do they not see how sad he is?
Do they not see that they treat his older brother very differently?

I know that the answer to my questions is no. If they did - they wouldn't do it.
I know that there is more to this story, that I will never know. I know that I saw a snapshot of this family and shouldn't judge them on it.
I also know that they held a mirror up to me. I can also be out of patience for my children. I have told them off for ridiculous things like getting dirty when staying clean is impossible. I have also refused to let my child help because I don't want to deal with the mess that is inevitable.

My children enjoyed sweeter, more patient parents this weekend because of Gavin - who we said a little prayer for.

Be Prepared.

I plan. I plan meticulously. I make lists. I check them off.I try to think of every eventuality.If a band aid is needed - I'll have it. The same can be said for many items from the practical to the unlikely.I never used to be this way. Parenthood has brought this upon me. I blame society. We are no longer allowed to make mistakes in parenting. A little parenting mistake is now punishable by a fine, jail, child removal and worse - peer judgement. It feels like big brother is watching, just waiting for us to trip up.

I am undaunted because I am a planner. I think things through. When I am planning I do extensive research to make sure my children's needs will be met.I know the real secret to parenting success - Yelp. Nothing can be better than reading current, peer reviews. I am now all knowing and powerful.No surprises for me, I know exactly what to expect everywhere I go.

Planning a recent camping trip I found the following reviews:

"My mom's trail sized shampoo was accidently left in the shower, when we went back the next day - it was gone!"
Clearly this campground is full of thieves - we will not be going there.

"I only gave this campground one star because it was a lot chillier than we expected."
This lazy camp host doesn't even provide decent weather.

"This campground is supposed to be family friendly - the only activity was bingo."
Playing bingo leads to drug use - everyone knows that.

"Beware! The only swimming is in the river."
I assume she forget to add that the river was infested with piranha.

"I will never go there again - the shop was out of marshmallows."
Classic case of parent passing the buck. Note to self: Buy marshmallows.

"The dryers in the laundry didn't work - we had to hang out our towels to dry!"
This place is clearly forcing people to 'camp' - not the reason we pitch a tent in nature.

How can I go wrong with all of this priceless information? I have already crossed thirty two camp grounds off my list based on these thoughtful and informative reviews.
Then I found this,

"The ranger enforced quiet time which was great - all the kids were asleep by 9pm and all was quiet until 8am."
This place is clearly filled with magical child whispering powers - we are going there tomorrow.




Enjoy your Labor Day Weekend!