Things That Make Ya Go "AAHHH!"

     There are numerous behaviors that are not tolerated in our home. We certainly don't allow hitting or hurting people of any kind, swearing, stealing, lying, etc. These are parental rules that are probably common for most homes. We know that when behavior A occurs, then consequence B follows. These rules are ingrained into each of us without too much difficulty. Even when a child engages in one of these no-no's, they look to make sure no one saw them, because they intrinsically know these household laws.
     And then there are the things that aren't life-threatening. The behaviors that annoy each mother uniquely but thoroughly... they are the things that make you cringe deep down and want to scream "AAHHH!" at the top of your lungs. I've come to realize (rather passionately, I must admit) that I have many more "pet peeves" now that I'm a mother than I ever had prior to this stage of life. Even my husband's crazy, quirkish ways are being rivaled by these two, small nut-balls that pose as innocent children. These are my Mother peeves.
   
     Sand. The inventor of the sandbox is probably a second cousin to Adolph Hitler, because only someone with that much evil in their DNA would put a family through this grittiness. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's a special place spoken of in Dante's Inferno for any person that says, "Hey! I have a great idea! Let's put the beach into a box and keep it at YOUR house so that there's a handful of sand in every room! And I'm gonna charge you money for it!" Sand in the hair, sand in the eyes, sand down the pants, sand in the teeth.... No, Taylor, it's not ok to make sand angels. Nor is it ok, Cameron, to throw sand at your sister, let alone with her mouths and eyes OPEN.

     Using non-toy items as toys. The garden hose attachment is NOT a shovel. My make-up is NOT paint. The pool skimmer is NOT a sand sifter, bug catcher, or sword. If I would've known that kids didn't want real toys, I could've saved a bundle! Here's some old batteries, a broken rake, and an ice cream container. Go to town! Although I'm pretty sure that if I started filling cereal bowls with legos and using stuffed animals as dog toys, I'd certainly have to hear about it. But there's a small part of me that would rather get even.... I literally have had visions of putting a baby doll in the dishwasher, just to see what would happen. Or completely disassembling a DS and telling them to "Have fun" when they want to play it. Oh, it stinks to have your stuff messed up when you go to use it, eh? I never would've guessed.... maybe when Santa brings me a new remote control, he'll remember to bring you a tractor that still has it's wheels.

     "Why did you do that???" followed by an "I don't know...." If you didn't have a reason to do something, why in the world would you waste time getting in trouble for doing it? For once, I'd like to ask the question, "Why did you break that toy?" and hear "Because I was really curious to see what was holding this thing together inside," or "Because I'm angry and thought that I'd feel better by breaking something." I'm pretty sure if a police officer pulled me over for speeding and asked me why I was breaking the law, he wouldn't be alright with an "I don't know..." Learn to give a reason! Make one up, if you have to, but the next "I don't know..." will be followed by an "AAHHH!!!!" from me.

     Throwing socks away. Today my son actually threw his sock into a field. Why? "I don't know..." Seriously? After I made him go find his sock (which took quite a while, as we have quite a large field) he came back and "remembered" that he threw it in the field because it got dirty. Because that's where all dirty clothes go is in a field. (Duh.) And the countless socks and underwear I've found tossed into the garbage instead of into the dirty clothes hamper is truly incredible. I'm not sure if the kids think that new underclothes will magically appear in their dressers or if they just love throwing money out the window. Either way, I'm pretty sure I'll scream when I one day find that missing black sock of Cameron's in the wood pile out back or in the bottom of the recycling bin.

     Fingerprints on walls. If I wanted the finger-painted look throughout my house, I would've hired a team of 5-year-olds and set them free with a gallon of paint. However, I chose to paint the walls of my home solid colors, and the colors that I chose were not called "Dirty Grime" or "Crusty Booger". It's almost as if children feel that the wall will cease to exist if they aren't touching it at all times... feet, fingers, or entire bodies slide across my walls all day long. Had I known that children were like this, I would've bought stock in Mr. Clean's Magic Erasers years ago.

     What things make YOU go "AAHHH!!!" ?

Crazy Is As Crazy Does

     This evening's blog asks one simple question: How do you refrain from passing your own neuroses on to your children? (And don't you dare answer that you are not neurotic, because even if you weren't while you were single, you certainly are now that you're either married and/or a mother.) My problem is this... my bad habits, fears, and obsessions are painfully visible to my kids. They see each move I make, copy each conversation that I have, and mimic me to a fault. Recently, both children have developed a nasty nail-biting habit, despite the fact that I have only relapsed twice in my disgusting fingernail addiction. They've seen the few times I've chewed and now they're hooked! I feel terrible having passed on my germ-infested, bacteria-ridden infatuation to these little monkies that ape my every action. But how do I stop it?
     Something that's even worse, however, is the bequeathing of my fears onto children that need to be fearless. There are four things in this world that absolutely paralyze me with fear.
     1) Drowning (burn me, shoot me, eat me alive, but for the love of God, don't hold me face-down in a puddle or I'll die of shock way before my lungs fill!)
     2) Needles (any sharp object used to penetrate a living creature, be it knife, needle, or power tool, makes me sick to my stomach. I remember Biology class in high school and the frog dissection that awaited me... not only did the smell ruin me for life, but the thought of me slicing open an animal didn't even have the chance to morally enrage me before I got sick with fear of the sharp knife... I dissolved into tears and I'm pretty sure I've never been the same since!)
     3) Being trapped (perhaps this goes along with the fear of drowning... but anytime I feel that I'm suffocating or can't get out of an area, I'm liable to throw punches. I'm the girl that needs the tranquilizer dart when the elevator jams...you've been warned.)
     4) Spiders (big, small, hairy, fat.... it doesn't matter. I'm actually shuddering and itching while typing this! I'd rather encounter the loch ness monster than find a spider within 100 yards of me. Biggest fear of my spider phobia? Having a spider lay eggs in my face while I'm sleeping and then having thousands of baby spiders emerge from a sore on my face. Naturally, these spiders would then eat me alive, leaving me feeling trapped, requiring surgeons to try to save me with needles, and then floating me out to sea when they realize the spiders cannot be stopped.... Yes. I know. I'm troubled and I cannot help it.)
     So, when my husband accidently-on-purpose locked me in the basement yesterday (for the second time in a week) with the giant, hairy wolf spiders, I literally panicked and broke the door handle trying to escape... which my son got to witness. Not only is that slightly embarrassing, but I realized that I'm telling my children there's nothing to fear, as I lose my ever-loving mind over insects in a basement. I can't be the only parent out there that struggles with passing on nasty habits or crazy fears.... so I ask you: Parents, how do you not transfer your neuroses to your kids?

Listen To The Mama

    Travelling with a family is difficult. Not impossible, but certainly not a bed of roses. However, there is one rule of thumb that I've discovered to make this challenging event a succes: Listen to the Mama. It's not that men can't plan a lovely vacation or getaway.... it's that they simply cannot plan at all. So, knowing this, I took charge of packing my suitcase and those of the children (layers for cool AND warm weather, as well as dressy AND casual events), I made the traveling schedule with very regimented break times (don't even tell me you HAD to have that coffee, which you and I both know will go right through you), and I included "car supplies" complete with games, toys, pillows, snacks, and the appropriate amount of fluids so that everyone would get their needs met without exceeding my scheduled break times.
     On our trip, Cameron was amazed at the new sights. "This is a pretty country here in Michigan...", he exclaimed as he peered out the car window. "Cam... we're in Ohio... it's not a country, it's a state... and we're in a construction zone. But I appreciate your enthusiasm," I answered.  Due to my impecable skills as a wife, mother, and overall human being (too far?), we made it to Michigan in 5 hours and 15 minutes with only one potty break. And let the record show that I forgot nothing.... now, the kids may have unpacked a few items after I already packed them in their suitcases... but that can hardly fall on my shoulders, now can it?
     Because we listened to the Mama and we left Thursday evening, we were able to spend Friday relaxing with family and friends without the stress of needing to unpack, or feeling too exhausted to visit after a long trip. We took our time socializing on Saturday before going to my cousin's wedding. This was the first wedding the children had been to. Both were extremely excited and had TONS of questions about the festivities...
   
     "Why are they not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore?" (Cam)
     "Because they're married now." (Me)
     "What's married?" (Cam)
     "It's when Jess and Jason go from dating to being a family." (Me)
     "Are we married?" (Cam)
     "Pappy and I are married and you and Taylor are our kids...we make up a family" (Me)
     "Why are they dancing together?" (Cam)
     "Because they just got married and this is their first dance together." (Me)
     "Looks like lots of people got married today 'cause they're all dancing out there!" (Cam)
     "No, Cam, only my cousin got married today... everyone else is just celebrating." (Me)
     "Why do those people have the same clothes on?" (Cam)
     "They're in the wedding party... they're here to support Jess and Jason." (Me)
     "Are they married?" (Cam)
     "No, just the bride and the groom." (Me)
     "What's a bride and a groom." (Cam)
     (Ah, shoulda packed a Valium...)
     "A bride is the girl getting married and the boy is the groom." (Me)
     "Huh?" (Cam)
     "When Pappy and I got married, he was the groom and I was the .......?" (Me)
     "Broom?" (Cam)
     "No, the bride." (Me)
     "What's a bride again?" (Cam)
     "Oh, look, it's time for you to go dance!!" (Me)

     And then my kids danced like maniacs for about 3 hours. Cam nearly knocking down a polka-dancing elderly woman, and Taylor having seizures to the beat of the music. It was really a lovely time and I was so glad to have the kids there. On the way home, some people weren't listening to the Mama (ahem, Cameron and Taylor) and some people ended up crying more than one time during the lengthy car ride (Cameron). And then some people proceded to be hyper and act out once they arrived home, causing the Mama to yell (just a little bit) and cry (just a little bit). I spent some time lecturing Cameron on the importance of listening and following my directions, because I was pretty sure that one day it could save his life (even if that means that I'll simply refrain from killing him myself at some point). BUT, that being said, I was impressed that we all survived the journey. And I'm pretty sure we all can agree that it was due to this gal's magnificent skills.
    Unfortunately, today I woke up sick, my car broke down, and I had to miss half a day's work.... BUT, because of my son listening to the Mama after our talk last night, he came home with the first good report from school in a long time and informed me that he was "ready to start listening better". So, despite the million-questions asked at the wedding, and the hitting in the car, and the broken candle holder once we got home.... despite all that, I count it all a success. Because my son learned the #1 rule: Listen to the Mama!

Trains, Weddings, and Birthday Parties

     Michigan is my home state. It's flat, it's where my family lives, it's about 6 hours away, and my kids are utterly certain that the entire state is jam packed from border to border with trains. I'm not sure where they got this idea, but they must've overheard me talking with my parents on the phone a while ago about the fact that it would be nice for the kids to see a couple of the historic railroads whenever we come for a long visit. Keep in mind, my two can't remember how to clean their rooms, where their shoes go, or to flush a toilet. But they'll darn well remember that they once heard the words "Michigan" and "train" in the same sentence.
     We happen to be traveling to Michigan this weekend to visit my family, friends, and attend my cousin's wedding. This is the conversation I was priveledged to have with the kids in preparation for our journey:
     "Yay! We get to take the train to Michigan!" (Cam)
     "No, Cam, we're taking the car." (Me)
     "Are we taking the car to the train?" (Taylor)
     "No, Tay, we're driving all the way to Michigan in the car." (Me)
     "What car?" (Tay)
     "OUR car..." (Me)
     "Will our car fit on the train?" (Cam)
     "Listen very carefully, guys.... NO TRAIN. JUST THE CAR." (Me)
     "So we'll just see the train but we won't ride on it, right? Because we're taking our car...." (Tay)
     (Oh my gosh, seriously? I've had conversations with my grandfather, who has alzheimers, that sink in quicker than this.)
     "Taylor, look at my face.... we will not ride a train, look at a train, touch a train, hear a train, or even say the word 'train' during our trip. Do you understand?" (Me)
     "So we will just have to take the train home instead, I guess." (Tay)
     "I'd like to lay down in front of a train...." (Me)
     "Grandma Dora said there are trains by her house... why can't we go see them??" (Cam... getting whiney)
     "Guys, I'm not doing this anymore.... I know you love trains and we can go see a train on another visit, but we're only going to be going home for a short visit and will have no time for train rides." (Me)
     "What's a wedding?" (Tay)
     "It's a party where people get married." (Me)
     "Is it a birthday?" (Tay)
     "Nope, a wedding." (Me)
     "So will your cousin be married when we get there?" (Cam)
     "NO, we are going to watch her get married and then have a party to celebrate." (Me)
     "And then it will be her birthday?" (Tay)
     "Oh my.... Do you hear me when I speak? Ugh, go outside....Just.... Go, please!" (Me)
     "Hey, Cameron, let's play Birthday Party and get married!" (Tay)
     "Ew, gross.... I can't marry my brother!" (Cam)
     "SHE'S YOUR SISTER!!!" (Me)

     And this is why we are leaving for our 6 hour treck at bedtime and traveling through the night....

At Least It Wasn't #2....

     Ever have a day where you're pretty sure you'll scream if you see one more drop of urine? (Ever write a blog where your opening line is about urine??) When I get done with my job, I generally feel the urge to shower. Many of the homes that I enter throughout my day smell of urine, mold, garbage, or worse (and yes, it DOES get worse). So after touching and sitting on things in their homes for 8 hours, I have an overall feeling of Oh-My-Gosh-What's-Touching-Me!?!?!. What's bad, however, is when you get that feeling in your own home. After being coughed and sneezed on (numerous times) by all 3 sick members of my family, and spit on by Cameron's congested, slobbering mouth while I helped him with his homework, I was starting to feel a bit squeemish. But when we add the thrill of cleaning up (and stepping in) pee all evening, I realize it's no wonder so many parents self-medicate. (In fact, there's an allergy pill with a Nyquil chaser just calling my name....)
     Now, I understand that little boys have difficulty aiming while in the restroom. But I also know that my son is INSANELY lazy when it comes to all things bathroom related (the skidmarks in his drawers convinced me of that months ago, along with his ability to take a 30 minute shower without washing a single body part). Not only were there yellow trails and sprinkles all over the seat and the floor of our full bath, but it was also all over the lid and tank of the commode... I can only imagine the scenario that occured... my kid in there, probably trying to watch a stink bug fly around the room, all the while peeing on everything in his way as he turned his head to and fro. And if we're gonna pee on the entire room, there's obviously no need to flush the toilet.... afterall, it would totally take away from the experience if we DIDN'T have 10hr urine smelling up the house.
     And although he is "house broken"... Cameron still has the occasional accident at bedtime. And when it's an accident, I've assured him that I will not be mad, but that I need to know ASAP so that we can wash his clothes BEFORE he sticks them in the hamper and BEFORE he pulls his comforter up over amonia-soaked sheets. So, imagine my horror (and nausea) as I cleaned out his pajama drawer tonight and found a wadded up pair of pj bottoms that were still damp, the odor making me instantly toss them across the room? Picture a colony of asparagus-eating hippies all trying to save water, relieving themselves in a communal bucket. Yes. THAT is what my kid's jammies were marinating in.... along with all the other pajamas next to them in the drawer. So we spent the entire night washing our clothes, bedding, and drawers. (I won't even go into detail about how Pat or Taylor, not sure which, locked Cameron and myself in the basement while we were doing said laundry....and then left to go to the store.)
     But let's not leave the sweet little princess out of the fun! She does, afterall, feel the need to copy her brother at every turn, even if that means doing something utterly ridiculous (such as peeing all over the floor NEXT to the toilet when she "couldn't make it"). Now, it's not that I don't believe her, it's just that she has done this before.... and the timing was just too coincidental for me to really be convinced that this wasn't a planned event. Either way, intentional or unintintional, her apology to me and my wet feet after I stepped (AND SLIPPED) in the urine didn't make me feel the slightest bit comforted. I told her (again!) that if she has an accident she HAS to tell an adult so we can clean it up with bleach, not just smear it around with a wad of toilet paper.
     Ready for the kicker? She informs me that she DID tell.... she told my husband! Who then told the 4-year-old to go clean it up!! So, she can't consistently count to 10, but she has been promoted to Bathroom Aficionado for the evening, courtesy of her father. (Taylor can't reach the cleaning products, and even if she could, SHE'S 4!!!) His response when I questioned his judgement call on this one? "I thought she only dripped on the floor a little...."
     All I can say is that my feet didn't want to step in ANY amount of pee. But that's just me. And for the record, my dog just sneezed all over my leg. So, I'm going to bed before anymore bodily fluids can assault me.