Self Help
You may think it a little precocious, but I have to tell you anyway. Chichi and her classmates participated in a Book Fair held at school. The entire class goes to the fair and then the children choose the books they would like to buy. The Fair organizers send the receipt for the purchase of the books home with the children and then the parents are to stop by the Fair and finish off the process. (That is pretty clever marketing – right?) So I decided that rather than get all the books we would choose one and then when we are in Canada at the end of the year, Chichi can choose 3 books there. The interesting thing is the book she chose: How to be a Princess. If you know Chichi at all, you know how preposterous the choice is. (By the way, one of my colleagues used that word the other day and I hadn’t heard it said or used it myself in such a long time; I thought it was a good one to put back into my vocabulary.)
Related information: Some of the kids in Chichi’s class were making fun of her name and calling her the equivalent of crown. This is what her name can sound like if you mess around with it a little bit. I told her that’s cool: that means they are calling you a princess. To which she answered, they all know I hate princesses. So that took me back to the days when I was called: Birch bark canoe. Today it seems so inoffensive, it is funny. At the time it seemed like an absolutely heinous nickname. Somehow I pictured the canoe and the bark and the combination did not make me happy. I remember lamenting to my father and him suggesting that I call the trouble-maker in question Sean Moore the lawnmower. Yup, that is laughable too!
Career Limiting Move
You´ve heard about them, right? The person that accidentally sends the E-mail intended for her husband to her boss. Someone who over indulges at the staff party. The couple that cannot get the work/play balance sorted. The list goes on. I’m sure there are many things to add to this list that my devious little mind has not even considered.
Just to set the record straight, I am not about to make a confession or send you my resumé. I am still gainfully employed, but after my tough love post, I seriously feel that I have limited myself. After a super rant like that what do I add? I considered something about how beautiful my daughter is and how it shocks me sometimes. I also thought about mentioning the times that my son flies at me for a hug. Or what about the sentences he puts together: “You are not my friend anymore”, wagging his little finger in the air. There are also the times when I have to laugh. We were in the pool and we asked a boy also in the pool if he takes swimming lessons in the club. His answer was: “No, on the street”: meaning, “no at another place.” Chiara started to bust up picturing the boy actually swimming in the street. Finally, there were the new pillows I made for the couch that Lu went right to when he got home and said “wow – how pretty!”
So I could rant and rave all day, but that would be a …
Tough Love
It has come to that point. I decided the other night when both of my children mocked my scolding of them that there needed to be a change. (That seems to be a common theme lately.) Anyway, it is amazing how liberating it is to become a cliché and just say no.
It all started over a very petty incident that is not worth repeating. In fact, if I commit the incident to words, it will be too pathetic. The result however, is worth noting. I decided then and there that I would put my foot down with them and really show them what their limits are. I think this is yet another thing too pathetic to mention, but I will anyway. I am no longer going to wait in their room until they fall asleep. That night I waited in my room and that for them was earth-shattering. I heard all kinds of protests from them that you may find amusing:
- If you don’t sleep with us it means you don’t like us.
- If you really loved us you would do what we say.
- If you don’t sleep with us I am going to tell Daddy.
This one is my all-time favorite: If you don’t sleep with us I am going to tell your mother.
And in answer to your question: Yes. It really can be that pathetic. There are days when you feel like you basically do everything that the parenting books tell you not to do.
The upside of all this is that I had ample time to reflect on my drastic decision. It took the kids an inordinate amount of time to get to sleep that night. As I was laying on my bed ignoring them or responding to their threats, I was also thinking: “I have to get these kids to behave now or I will not survive.” (I also think about getting my kids to behave before I visit my parents, because Canadian kids are very well-behaved. Wasn’t I?)
Anyway, here is my shortlist of ways that I can encourage my children to start towing the line. See if you can detect a theme:
- Refuse to change their plates at meals just because they want to boss me around.
- Refuse to take their Tupperware with me after lunch just because they want to boss me around.
- Refuse to do anything for them unless they say please just because they want to boss me around.
- Refuse to take them anywhere special because then they always want more just because they want to boss me around.
- Refuse to answer when they call me from another room in the house just because they want to boss me around.
I think you get the picture. In case you are reading this and thinking to yourself “this woman is insane” well, you may be right. In this day and age you are not supposed to refuse to do things for your children, right? It is all supposed to be positive and loving. That is all fine and dandy until it is your name on the mat they wipe their feet on! Then there is only one alternative.
Remembering
Today is November 11th and for some of us it is also Rememberance Day. In fact it really took me back a few years when I saw the footage of the British Parliament last week and all the Members of Parliament had poppies in their lapels. It made me think of the Flanders poem we memorized as kids. It also made me think of the Salvation Army selling poppies on the street. My parents have always been good at recycling and reusing and they kept their poppies from one year to the next. I guess everyone’s parents did that!
So what are the things that I need to remember on November 11th:
- my good friend’s birthday – there will never be a distance that skype cannot bridge
- how hard I need to work with my children to teach them what they need for their lives
- that I need to listen more closely to what they want to teach me – “come see the humming bird Mommy” or “Mommy sing ee-ay-ee-ay-oh”
- how blessed I am to have the parent models that I have – how did they make it look so easy and effortless
- no matter how difficult it may seem to find the time to call my grandmother, it is one of the best things I can do for myself
- that I should never be so busy that I cannot find out what is going on with my loved ones – no matter where they are
- having someone to share this all with is priceless – especially when they are not here and there is no food in the fridge…
What it means to be Canadian
This post is a bit of a departure from my usual anecdotes about my kids, but I just have to get this out of my system. I have been asked the above question many, many times and I am always at a bit of a loss as to my response. However, the other night, it all became clear to me. I was at a dinner with some Americans and the idea of getting together for breakfast came up. We started talking about what the menu would include and inevitably we got to the topic of maple syrup. All the Americans present thought it was perfectly reasonable to have Log Cabin or Aunt Jemima´s. In fact, one of my best friends brings maple essence in her suitcase when she visits the U.S. and makes some sort of homemade moon-shine maple concoction that she claims is maple syrup. That for me is simply wrong. There are no two ways about it. No real red and white blooded Canadian would ever, ever do that. My American dinner mates on the other hand could not believe my shock. That in a nutshell is the difference.
Interesting aside: I remember going over to my grandparents’ house for dinner and being served maple syrup in fruit dishes for dessert to be eaten with wholewheat bread.
Lesser evidence of the difference: At the same dinner I asked my the diners from Chicago if they were Blackhawks fans. They were not and they claimed they didn’t really care for hockey. What?
Further evidence of the difference: Some people I know are completely head-over-heels for Obama while others have been in a funk since last Wednesday. I simply don’t feel strongly either way.
Black Widow – almost
So, it all started one morning when I stepped into the shower and was greeted by a black widow spider (okay, I’ll admit – it wasn’t actually a black widow, but it certainly was not eensy weensy.) I did what any reasonable woman would do. I called my husband. He got rid of it, I took my shower, and that’s the end of the story.
At least I thought it was the end of the story. The other night I was in the living room when the BW reappeared, sort of like a phoenix. It was in among the boxes of kids toys under the stairs. Clearly this was a great place for it and I was not going to do battle with it over territory. My husband was not home, it was not in my shower and the kids were asleep. I went into the kitchen to bake my muffins I was telling you about the other day and guess what? It followed me. I was sort of okay with the fact that I had a friend, but…. I did not want to turn my back on it for fear it would run up my pant leg. Picture this if you can: I am at the sink cranking my neck around every few seconds so I can keep my eye on BW. Eventually I was done the dishes so I beetled it on out of the kitchen away from the massive BW.
I told Chichi about the story yesterday and she said: “I think it must want to be friends!” My thoughts exactly.
How do their minds work revisited…
I have to tell you about the funniest thing that happened last night. Since their Dad is away on a trip, my kids have been clingier lately. In fact, one of them sleeps in bed with me every night. (They don’t start out there though!) It is kind of funny how they seem to work it out so that the two of them are not there at the same time. The other night I was in the kitchen making muffins when they were asleep and I heard Lu. He didn´t make that much noise, so I just let him be. When I went up to sleep after the muffins were baked he was half-on, half-off Chi´s bed. He was on the bed only from the waist up. It is amazing that they can still sleep in this position. Anyway, last night Lu woke up in the middle of the night for some reason. He called me and started to walk out of his room. So, the funny thing was that he felt he needed to put on Chi´s high-heeled, Canadian flag decorated, red and white flip flops to walk from his room to mine.
The other thing that makes you wonder is this interchange this morning. I was in the bathroom getting ready when Chi walked in and started to do her business. I asked her how she was, how she slept and she responded with polite grunts. I then asked her if she wanted to go have breakfast at the bakery that morning. We normally do have breakfast at the bakery on Friday as a treat. She said she wanted to have breakfast at the bakery and then asked if she could have ice cream today. Give them an inch, right?
Since we were going to the bakery, we did not have breakfast at home. They serve breakfast at Lu’s school, but since we have to eat before school, we feed him too. Today however we did not. So he was all confused about the change in routine and went into the kitchen to rescue his over-the-head, high-collared, upper body shielding, red, yellow and green cotton bib. When he got to school with the bib still on, his teacher giggled! When I got back to the car after taking him to the gate at his school, Chi asked me if the other kids had laughed at him. They were oblivious to his bib even though it is quite extravagant!
I thought it was over until I found this tucked under my computer after Chi had gone off to her own classroom.
What goes around…
I have been thinking about what to write about Halloween for at least 5 days now. As I think about what I could possibly write, the subject just gets more and more complicated, so I decided to abandon the idea of trying to figure out what to include and still keep the topic in line with the rest of the blog. `Nuff said.
Getting back to the title, I guess you have thought about it too. I am not sure though if it smacks you in the face each and every morning like it does for me. A few years ago when I was an adolescent living with my parents, I was constantly late in the morning for school. It was not a big deal for me. I had more to worry about: what to wear, how to do my hair, what pimple to mess with, what makeup to put on badly and re-do, and the list goes on. Quite clearly my worries were many. My parents sketched out a clever plan to try to get around my teen tardiness: sit in the car and honk endlessly until I stomped down the stairs and out the door. (I am 100% sure this happened and that I am not having an Alzheimer´s moment, because they did it to me on one of my recent trips back home!)
I have tried several different tactics with my own daughter: playing nice music, kissing her awake, talking softly, dressing her, carrying her to the living room, talking loudly, going to the car without her, threatening to leave her, ignoring her and the other tactic that all parents use that we are not supposed to talk about in this day and age. The conclusion is always the same regardless of the strategy: Chichi is extremely slow and we are always late for Lu´s school.
I am about as successful with my own daughter as my parents were with me. It is like they say it is.
