I don’t even know how to title this

My 4 year old son Sam thinks its very funny to wander away from me in a store.  He finds it amusing to not answer my terrified pleas.  He laughs when I scold him for doing this.  So he did it 3 times today.  Once at Target while I was checking out.  He was standing right next to me, I started to pay the cashier, looked down and he was gone.  I tried not to panic, calling his name, but I received no answer.  After about 90 agonizing seconds, someone pointed him out to me.  He ran over to me smiling and asked “What Mom?”  I just grabbed his coat and got in his face.  I’m sure everyone was looking at me wondering if I was going to beat his butt.  I’m not a violent person, so he’s lucky. 

We had a short discussion in the car, which isn’t easy as he sees the back of my head and I’m attempting to be a safe driver.  I had a doctor’s appointment, which went well.  Then we headed off to Kohl’s to get a new coat for him, as Sam’s coat is falling apart.  He did it again to me, this time going to Customer Service for a drink  An employee heard me calling for him, and set off a “Code Yellow”, closing the front doors and mobilizing the employees to look for him.   After about 3 minutes, I hear someone from Customer Service yell they have him.  I was relieved but even more angry he did this to me twice in less than 2 hours.  The store manager even had a little word with him, firm yet kind.  I think he was a bit embarassed, but still wasn’t getting it. We had a very long talk in the car while heading to the girls’ school.  I wanted him to understand what he was doing was wrong, how I felt about him missing and I wondered if he got it.  He doesn’t. 

He did it one more time at school.  I was in the gym and it was near dismissal, so I told him I had to have his sisters meet us in the gym and not take the bus home.  Do you want to go with me?  No, he said, he was going to stay there with 2 other moms.  Alright.  I go back, he’s gone.  I’m fortunate the staff knows him, so I had several people helping me.  He was outside on the playground in 7 inches of snow.  He told me he was looking for me out there.  Did you not remember what I told you in the gym?  Nope. 

I’m still angry with him after all these hours.  The stress I had today with him being missing is more than I could handle.  What I wanted to do was hurt him.  I wanted him to feel what I was feeling.  But what good would this do for the situation?   It would be counter productive.  I know children don’t get how wandering off stops a parent’s heart, makes them panic, makes them wonder what is going on, is my child safe, who took them, where are they?  I was so relieved when I found him.  But so angry at him for doing this to me.  And doing it 3 times in one day, in less than 4 hours.  I asked if he heard me calling for him.  He did.  Then why didn’t you answer me? “I don’t know.”  His favorite answer for everything.  Its infuriating.

So Sam will now be wearing the equivalent of shackles when we go out in public.  I don’t care what people think or say, I refuse to subject myself to the stress of having him missing again, even though he was safe today, what about next time?   I’ll put it around his waist, hook him to me and off we go.  Maybe he’ll get it.  Maybe he’ll understand when I tell him to stand here, I mean stand here.  Don’t move.  Stay with me.   I’ll see how it goes, but he will not be allowed out in public without it.  Humiliating? Maybe.  Necessary?  Oh yes.   This is why he’s not going to kindergarten this fall even though he is old enough.  He’s so utterly immature and I don’t know how to get this through his skull to give him the proper amount of fear without making him a basket case.  He’s fearless, which is the problem.

I’m glad he’s safe.

A boy’s favorite toy

Sam and I went to the mall this morning to try to find ski pants for me, so I could play outside in the snow without getting all wet and cold.  It was a fruitless search.

We stopped for lunch at Chick Fil A and had some tasty chicken.  He saw a balloon and asked for one.  We weren’t even out of the parking lot when he let all the helium out of it.  Silly kid.  Did this stop him? Of course not!  He’s had more fun blowing up the balloon here at home and letting it go sailing around the room.  The sight of this blue balloon streaking through the air brought shrieks of laughter from him.  Then its my turn.  I’m fortunate the balloon didn’t pop in my face I blew it up rather large.  It flew into the next room and I thought Sam would double over in laughter.   “Isn’t that funny, Mom?!”  He had the best time sticking the balloon in his shirt, or mine, and blowing it up, then letting the air go.  I can’t even begin to say how much I love hearing this child laugh.  He has the funniest laugh and that smile, that smile makes me forget for a moment how mischievous he can be.

Who would have thought a free balloon from a fast food restaurant would bring such joy and laughter to a 4 year old ?  Its the simple things in life which make this boy happy. 

Then he told me he’s good at blowing up things.  Dude, if you had any idea…………

Ah, the memories of snow days past

I remember when I was a kid, as soon as it started snowing, my brothers and I would start getting ready to go outside.  We’d nearly be bundled up like Randy from A Christmas Story.  We’d sled, build forts, play Battlestar Galactica and Star Wars, pelt each other with snow balls then come inside, freezing cold, cheeks looking like we put on Granny’s rouge.  Mom would have some hot chocolate for us.  If we were lucky enough, Dad was working from home and had a fire roaring in the fireplace.  We’d warm up, hang out for a bit, then do it all over again.  It was great fun, we quickly learned the pecking order in the family, as if there was any doubt about who would be called Boss. 

My kids?  They stayed in side all day today.  I kept asking, do you want to go out and sled?  Nope. They’re content playing video games.  I realize this is partially my fault.  I should have insisted they go outside.  Granted, it was sleeting for a while.  Who wants to play in sleet?  Only the dog, who would come in and look like she had a horrid case of dandruff. 

The snow is coming down quick and heavy as I type this.  Our first big snow of the season actually.  Its been so cold this winter, but we’ve had barely a dusting of snow.  I thought my kids would be thrilled to their toes to have a good snow to go sledding.  With the small amount we had on Monday, Sam was making snow angels in the driveway.  But the girls didn’t care. He did sled a few times, and come to think of it, I believe the sled is now buried under some snow.  I’ve got old plastic containers they can use to make snow bricks.  I believe I have the kids’ agenda ready for tomorrow, IF there is no school.  The way it looks now, I think they’ll be home yet again.  I did have an entire day planned tomorrow, including a doctor’s visit I had to reschedule from last week when Caroline was home.   Its a good thing I don’t have an outside paying job.  I’d never be there.

At least today wasn’t as horrible as it could have been with all 3 home.  They fought for a bit early in the morning, and I was apprehensive about how the day would go if they were already at each other’s throats at 8:15 a.m.  Lucky for me, it stopped pretty quickly and the day went without too much gnashing of teeth.  I’m keeping my eyes crossed for a repeat tomorrow. 

Tomorrow’s another day Scarlett.  I’ll pull a rabbit out of my hat and see where that gets me.

Depression?

I’ve been feeling the same for so long, its difficult to know if its just how I am because of kids, or something else.  Depression? Anxiety?  I don’t feel energetic.  I don’t want to do anything, I make myself do it.  Exercise?  You’re kidding, right?  I keep saying I’m going to walk the dog, then it gets freezing cold, and the last thing I want to do is go for a walk.  I try to eat right, especially with the diabetes, but I can cheat with my insulin pump, so I do.  Whats this do to me?  More things than I care to realize.  I gain weight.  I feel like hell.  I look like hell.  My A1C is higher than it should be. 

Kevin suggested we join the Y.  Its not really in the budget, but I think if I know I’m paying to belong to this place, I’ll actually go.  The kids could do swimming during the winter, since Sam keeps asking me to go to the pool.  I could get into some class, probably get a personal trainer for a bit to help me out.  Its a good idea.  Would this be the fire under my butt I’ve been looking for?   I don’t want to be fat anymore.  If I lose some weight, I can get the tummy tuck I’ve been wanting since Sam’s birth. 

I need to do something.  This is not the real me.  I used to be an energetic person who was always moving.  I fake it most of the time, since I feel guilty about not doing stuff with my kids, not having the energy to run around (not that my knees can take it), not wanting to even do it.  I don’t like feeling this way.  I don’t want to keep telling myself only so many hours until I get to go back to bed. 

So I made the call.  I’m waiting for a return call to make an appointment with a psychiatrist.  I said it, a head doc.  I’m a head case.  I know there is nothing wrong with admitting you’re depressed.  I’m under stress.  We’re all under stress.  Having 3 kids under the age of 10 at home, type 1 diabetes, a husband who is now back at school working on his MBA and all the volunteering I do.  Stop volunteering some people would say.  I can’t.  That’s probably the one thing which keeps me moving.  I have the obligation I signed up to do, I must do it.  Most of it is for my kids, scouts, room mom.  I want to do the work, even though they may not realize nor appreciate what I’m doing. 

Come on doctor’s office, call me back so I can get this appointment on my calendar and look forward to being well again.  I don’t want to spend my 40s feeling like utter crap 24/7.

Girl Scout Cookie time

Its that time of year again, my 2 girls selling cookies.  They went up in price, as expected.  Not much of a problem. 

My issue is what our local council wants each girl to sell, 125 boxes.  Say what?!  Are you guys living in some kind of sealed environment and are not aware of the economic issues in our country currently?  This request was quickly followed up by “this is a recommendation”.   I’ll recommend something for you.  Being a girl scout leader is difficult enough with parents who don’t want to help out, although they’re quick on the criticism, much less telling a bunch of 2nd graders you need to sell 125 boxes of cookies. 

Then the rewards.  For the past couple of years, the rewards have been lousy.  Then they don’t arrive from China.  This last summer the girls were able to vote on some new ones.  But the  only way you can redeem one of these  rewards is to sell a load of cookies.  Caroline, my 2nd grader, wants the IPOD.  1000 boxes of cookies required for this.  Sweetie, I love you, but lets be a bit more realistic. 

At least the selling period is short.  Its over this week.  2 weeks of selling is enough.  But why, oh why, do they do this in the middle of winter?  The kids don’t seem to feel the cold, but I’m freezing outside waiting for them as they go door to door to some of our neighbors. 

I swear the girl scouts is like The Firm, once you’re in, you’re stuck for life.

Would you care for some cheese with that whine?

I decided today would be clean up day.  Not to museum quality, but get the house looking like humans inhabit this place, not animals.  Boy the whining and gnashing of teeth started immediately.  Caroline can’t keep her clothes off the floor if her life depended upon it.  I helped her clean up her room before Christmas, and it stayed clean for maybe 72 hours.  I don’t get it.  We labeled her dresser drawers so she could easily put things in their proper place.  Her clothes rod is lowered for quick access.  She has a tall hamper to put in dirty clothes.  Did it help?  Unfortunately, no.  It looks like a department store exploded in her room.  She’s so flustered by the amount of work, she shuts down.  I can understand this process, yet she seems unable or unwilling to help herself.  This is not how I planned to raise my children.  I want them to be self sufficient in many ways.  I want them to be able to figure out how to get things done on their own, not depend upon me to always help out.  I get angered when she can’t even start with a simple instruction, pick up your books and put them back on the shelf.  She melts.

I wish someone had a quick solution for this issue as its making me start to whine too.  I am by no means a fastidious house cleaner.   Its not a sty, you can tell someone with children lives here.   I like it picked up, and looking nice, but dust doesn’t bother me.  Caroline seems pleased to live in a total mess.  Then the whining starts when asked to clean up. 

Time to prod the children into action.  I hear Spongebob on the TV, not a good sign.

Congrats Mr. O!

The historian in me was excited beyond belief today.  I never thought I’d see the day when we’d finally get someone other than a white male in the White House.    I have great expectations of our new President and his administration.  After a historic campaign with a black man and a woman both running for the highest office of our nation, history has been made.  I’m still not sure why anyone in their right mind would want to be President, but I’m happy to let them have the job.

The only person in my house right now unhappy is the dog.  She saw me in my sweats and thought WALK!  Unfortunately the whole inaguration took longer than I expected, so her 45 minute dance between me and the door was all the exercise she received this morning.  I do feel badly for her, but I couldn’t pass up the inauguration.

Dick Cheney looked like Dr. Strangelove, without the cigarette and solitary glove.  I got a good laugh.

Congrats again Mr. Obama and good luck to you.  The job before you is massive.

Dr. Cheney Strangelove I presume

This needs no further comment

 

   

New Years Resolution, I hope!

I’ve been quite lax about writing.  Most days I don’t feel I have much to say, but in reality, I do.  I always have something to say.  After getting hassled by Hasselbot.com for months, typically 2-3 times daily, I decided today, 19 days into the new year, I’d be better about writing.  So here goes!

I love my 3 children, don’t get me wrong.  But my 4 year old son will either drive me to drink more heavily, cause me a headful of silver hair, or potentially give me a stroke, all before I’m 42.   I am fortunate he was #3, as my daughters would never have existed had he been born first.  He does it all.  He’s fearless.  He’s without sympathy.  I’m not sure he even understands why I’m angry at him for coating the leather couch in ketchup.  Why I’m pissed he poured a gallon of veggie oil down the bathroom sink.  Sam, why did you think it was alright to pour oil down the sink?  “I don’t know”.  Its his standard answer.  It also makes me want to reach around his neck and hurt him.  But he’s lucky I’m not violent, and I’m also able to control myself.  “Remove yourself” I tell him after he’s cleaned up his mess.  Cleaning up his messes makes him tired, apparently.  Although he’s not tired enough to sleep.  He’s not too tired to go onto his next project, finding a small bottle of puffy paint from somewhere and smearing it on the wood floor.

Do something with the child, I can hear some of you say.  I do!  We play games, we bike, we ride scooters, we take walks, we play on the play set, sandbox, go to classes at the Early Childhood Center.  Apparently I can not wear him out.  I could spend hours on the floor building train tracks with him, and when I go into the bathroom for a break, he’s already into something.  He’s stealthy.  He’s quiet.  He’s quick.  Sam would make a great professional assassin one day.  He’d never be caught.  I don’t know how he does it.

But after he’s made me so angry I’m ready to pull out my 2 inch long hair, he smiles at me, that charming smile he’s been so fortunate to be born with, puts his arms around me and says, I need a kiss.  Charmer.  I’m still angry with him, angry he can’t “get” it.  But I’ll take the hug and kiss.  No one can imagine this child is such a mischievous little devil.   Live with him for a day.  You’ll see. 

Santa brought Sam a dust buster for Christmas.  He wasn’t very happy about it at first, but now his house cleaner is his and only his.  No one else is able to touch it much less use it.  This is alright by me.  He’s cleaned up more of his messes in the past month than ever before, and proudly with his noisy house cleaner.  He can put it back on the recharger by himself.  He needs help emptying the collection area.  I don’t mind helping with this project, but the flour he poured on the floor is still in there for some reason, even after being vacuumed out several times.  Go figure.

I’m at home today, no car, 3 kids.  Should be an adventure.  I think I need to find a better uniform to wear for such days.  Maybe something along the lines of a Viking helmet, shield and sword.  I’m a warrior today.  I’m sure the kids will have me tied up somewhere around lunch.

Caroline and the four leaf clover

We’re at an early soccer game for Lily this morning.  The soccer field is on the outfield part of a baseball diamond.  The infield  area is actually about 1/4 of the field, by one of the goals.  We’ve had significant rainfall this spring, so its a total mud pit, wet and deep.  So the refs decide to shorten the field so the girls aren’t getting stuck in the mire.

 On the other side of the infield is a little playground, and Caroline asks if she can play there. Sure, not a problem. She has on this white hat from her girl scout troop so I can see her clearly.  I’m only about 250 feet away, and its 9 am, no one else is around the area except us.  And its fenced in.

 

So……  I look over to check on her and here she comes across the mucky infield area.  She’s having a slow go of it, and I yell at her to get out of it.  She looks over at me and obviously only heard my voice, not what I actually said.  So she keeps moving.  I yelled again.  Then she falls.  She yells for me she’s stuck, and falls again.  At this point, all the parents from Lily’s soccer team are watching this and looking at me, to see my reaction.  I can’t stop laughing.  I actually have tears running down my face I’m laughing so hard.  I yell at her to take a left to get out of the infield, as its only about 15 feet to the grass.  She is just standing there.  So me and a friend of mine go over to help her.  Missy has an old blanket to get for Caroline so she can be wrapped up on it. 

 

I attempted to venture into the infield to help her, but I took 2 steps and started to sink.  I quickly got out.  I told Caroline to come over to me.  She tells me she’s completely stuck and can’t get her shoes out.  I’m still laughing at this point.  So I asked her to get out of her shoes and then pull them out.  She gets out of her shoes, but she can’t get the shoes out, they have so much suction under them with the mud, its like concrete.  So I told her to put her fingers under them and pry them out.  They pop out and mud flies.  I’m about to wet myself at this point and I’m kicking myself for not bringing the video camera because its priceless.  So she slowly walks out towards me and she looks like she’s pooed all over herself, she’s that much of a mess.  But is she upset?  Hell no.  Happy as can be, as usual.

 

So I wrapped her in the blanket, put the shoes on the bleachers and we walked back to the sidelines of the soccer game.  I asked her why she was coming thru the infield instead of around on the grass.  “I found a 4 leaf clover and I wanted to show you.”

“So where is the clover now?”

“I lost it in the mud.”

“It wasn’t a very lucky clover then, was it?”

 

Poor kid.  We were just howling with laughter after this.  So after Lily’s game, Caroline had a field trip to the ASPCA, but with no shoes, pooed in looking pants, I stopped at Target to get her some pants and shoes.  Then Lily asks me if I brought her another pair of shoes.  Um, no, that was what I asked YOU TO DO!  So I had to buy her some too.  So $55 later, we’re on our way. Get to the ASPCA 30 minutes late.  Fortunately after all this, we’re all in a good mood.  As Monty Python once sang, always look on the bright side of life.