Summer Breeze

Disciplining My Seven Year Old: DIY followup

Man, this DIY discipline is really working. Not only is my little guy learning more responsibility, but also, and perhaps most importantly, I am getting a break!! What have I been thinking? Can you say Win Win?? (This is what summer break is for: Reevaluation of life. lol)

This morning, I told him to get his bag ready for camp. This little twerp actually said, "I don't want to. You usually do it. Can you just do it?" Rather than react impulsively, I simply responded in a calm, matter-of-fact manner, "I didn't ask you what you wanted to do. Either fix the bag--without any more whining--in the next five minutes, or you're not going. You will stay home, clean your room, run errands with me, not go to the park, nor to visit friends. Your choice."

Then, I proceeded to head to my room, mumbling loud enough for him to hear that "it looked like I wasn't going anywhere, may as well get started on my day."

He packed the bag in less than two minutes. 

We headed out the door, both in good moods. My hope is that taking responsibility and doing things for himself will be a matter of habit by summer's end so few-to-no ultimatums will have to be issued.

Disciplining My Seven Year Old: Listen the First Time or DIY

My headstrong seven-year old is having a hard time with a couple of issues. One deals with being helpful to others, and by others, I mean me. That's my bad. I've done too much for him for too long, and now when I request his help, he reacts as though it's exhausting drudgery. Welp. Time for a re-training. Better late than never. The second issue is long-standing and it involves listening and doing something the first, rather than the umpteenth time I say it (which is usually issued in a menacing threat.) Depending on his mood or current activity, he tends to wait for the threat level to reach magenta before he reacts, and even then he moves at his own sweet pace. I want to kill him snatch him up redirect him. (I don't spank, and I try to use disciplinary measures that teach by showing the direct consequence of his actions. It's tough sometimes, but I'm up for the challenge.)

Tonight's request dealt with making his bed. I'm teaching him to be more self-sufficient and learn how to complete household chores, especially those that directly relate to him. So I said, "Come here and help to make up your bed." I wait. He pretends to be enthralled w/some useless object. So I ever so swiftly stepped to him and raised him by his arm and repeated my request in the tone he's grown accustomed to. So accustomed, in fact, that he wasn't fazed. He sat right back down. Mmkay, mmkay. Gotcha.

So that's when it came to me. I said, "No problem. Don't worry. You don't have to help." He looked simultaneously bewildered and suspicious of my tone. "No-ho-ho-ho," I sang. (You know it's dangerous when someone turns "No" into a laugh.) "You can do it yourself. Since you want to ignore my request for help, make your own bed." 

"But I don't know how."

"Welp. Figure it out and do the best you can. Whatever you come up with, that's what you sleep on."

"But, but, Mommy." He's standing now, fitted sheets in hand, ever so ready. Hmph.

"All done with this conversation. From here on out, if you don't help the first time I ask, you will be doing it yourself. So...do your best."

You made your bed, now lie in it--literally.

Now I'm chillin, no stress, no frustration, no reinforcement of wrinkle-lines in my forehead, and he's making his own bed, wishing he'd listened the first time. (He actually did a decent job, not great, but good enough.)

Hmm...any other non-spanking tips for helping out in this scenario? Or any similar experiences?

4 Things Only a Parent Would Say

The other day, I heard some curious words coming out of my mouth, and I had to laugh. Sometimes, I'm talking to my kid, and the things I say would sound completely insane in any other context, but as a parent, not only are they normal, but they're perfectly common among my parenting peers. Here are four things I have said, or overheard said, as a parent, that make me shake my head:

1. "I am all done with Po..ke..mon! Pokemon is done!"

My six year old recently used his allowance savings to purchase a pack of Pokemon cards. Now everytime I look around, he can't walk, talk, eat, or listen for looking at the friggin Pokemon cards. Finally, I'd had enough, and through closed teeth, I pronounced the end of Pokemon (or at least a 20 minute break.) Immediately after uttering the first drawn out "Pokemon," I realized that "Pokemon" is quite possibly the most idiotic thing you can say slowly and sternly. But as a parent, it was so necessary. So I said it again.

2. "Don't put that [grass, rock, stick, etc] in your [mouth, nose, ear, etc]!!"

From the moment that their motor skill development allows, until who knows when, if they can hold it, they will try to put it in some orifice. Unless the "it" is a green vegetable and the "orifice" is a mouth, that is, (for my son at least.) :-/ 

3. "Yay! Poopy!!!"

There are at least two occasions when I have loudly and excitedly celebrated poop with all the fanfare I could muster. One was after an extended bout of constipation, when I was on the verge of having to administer a suppository. O_o Never did I think I would be this into someone else's digestion and bowels, but alas, hello, motherhood.

The other time was during the first successful poop into the toilet/potty, thus signaling the beginning of the end of diaper stankness. A victory indeed for him and me. Certainly worth celebrating.

4. "No more roaring, please. That's enough of being a dinosaur."

I overheard a dad telling this last one to his little guy in Chick-Fil-A last week. The man was so serious. From the boardroom to the playroom -- He had on his shirt and tie, was holding his blackberry and kneeling down to his 3 year old's eye level, explaining the need for the boy to end his reptilian ways. Bet he didn't see that sentence in his future when he woke up that morning.

When have you found yourself sounding both utterly ridiculous and completly rational at the same time? What are some of your Things Only a Parent Would Say?

So I'm Not "The Fun One"

I'm not the fun parent. Shock resonates on my little guy's face when I agree to take part in a sword fight, or a light saber duel, or a wrestling match on the floor. Don't get me wrong. We have fun. It's just typically more mentally stimulating. Uno, coloring, a rousing game of Chutes & Ladders -- that's more my cup of tea. Sometimes it bothers me, and I'll try to be more of the 5 year old boy brand of fun -- but it's so tiring. Alas. *places back of hand against forehead*

The other day, however, I got the confirmation that, as parents, we each have a role. "What's your favorite thing about school," I asked Zee. "When Ms. B-- gives us work[sheets]." He's loving the hidden pictures right about now. (Boy after my own heart.) Continuing that line of questioning, I asked, "What's your favorite thing at your dad's house?" "Playing my Nintendo, going swimming and going to the lake."

Enjoying the free flow of information, I ask one more question, "And what's your favorite thing at Mommy's house?"

"Hugs."

"Hugs?" I repeat, for clarification.

"Yes, hugs." He repeats matter o'factly.

The questioning stops. I am stunned and humbled. Such a simple thing. I want to thank him, but it would make no sense to him, so I thank him silently. Hugs.

I'm not the fun one. And that's okay.

Habits of a Mother, a Son, and a Frog

After Zee's bath, I wrap him in his towel and sit him up on my lap. He lays his head on my chest, and I wrap him in my arms. It started by his request about 3 months ago, and now it's become pretty much a ritual.

Oftentimes, he'll tell me something sweet, like how much he loves me, or how I'm the best Mommy, and I could just melt. So tonight, I'm holding him extra-tight, thinking about how much I love this little boy, and how overwhelming that feeling can be. I'm wondering if he can feel the love, and I give him an extra squeeze, assuring myself that he can. Suddenly, my mental ramblings are interrupted by--

"Frogs eat flies."

Huh?

"They have really, really long tongues, and they can catch anything."

What else could I do but nod, as we each proceeded to do our best frog fly-catching imitations.

Please, please, please don't say that again.

So... your daughter is friends with my son, and she's white. So you're so proud of her because of what exactly? And now that you've moved away, she befriended two black children. And again, my question.

And why is this the second time you've mentioned this to me? Am I supposed to be proud of y'all, too? Da hell? Oh yes'm, it sho is mighty kinda Miss O to play wit my little one. heh heh heh.

No, not quite. Now, I am forced to have to school you when next we speak. I tried to hint at the absurdity of the statement the first time, but subtlety is not.quite.getting it.

Hell, if befriending someone of a different race is that outstanding, I should be bursting at the seams everyday for myself, my child, my parents, my friends, all of us who cross the color line socially every day.

ahh... white privilege. Can you smell it?

Stock Check at Babies R Us?

This blog post that I found via C, reminded me of a recent conversation with my soon-to-be-four year old.

After spending most of Saturday with a friend and her baby, my son was in love with the baby. The little guy was both big enough and small enough for him to hold, ya know. So while in the car, he says:

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Zee." I can tell he's been thinking, because he's using his thinking voice "mommy" which he always pauses after

Z: "I really like that baby."

M: "I know Z, I could tell. I'm glad you had fun."

Z: "Mommy?"

M: "Yes, Zee?"

Z: "We should get us one of those babies."

M: Oh lawd.... "Uhm, where would we get one." Stalling.

Z: "Um, I don't know. Maybe the baby store?" I can only guess that this reasoning was based on a car lot that I had explained as a car store.

M: "The baby store, huh? Well, we can check, but I'm not sure they have any more."

I know I'm wrong, but that's as far as I felt like going with that conversation!

Beyonce Reaches a New Demographic

Please tell me why my 3 1/2 year old was mesmerized with Bey's Emporio whatever ad? And then when I fast-forwarded through her Upgrade Ya ad for DirecTV (?), why did he ask me "is that upbraidya?"

It took me like 20 minutes to figure out what he was talking about. Until he kept asking at every commercial break if that was "upbraidya." Once I realized what he was looking for, I was like, "What you know about Upgrade Ya?"

Then I heard of another 4 year old boy who is crazy about that commercial. Wow. Okay. That's interesting. They start young, don't they?

Extra Hour My Ass

Hmph. I used to LOVE turning my clock back. Used to slip in to bed and rub my feet together thinking about that extra hour I was gonna get.

However, try telling your 3 year old about this concept. On second thought, never mind, save your energy. You'll need it. For that extra hour of chores/superhero pretend games/etc you find yourself with.

So to everyone who slept in for that gifted hour, I'm hating. Because I was up at 8am 7am, pouring Cheerios and turning on Dora, and preparing myself for a longer than usual day of activity instead of extra Zzzzzs. And if I sound grumpy, it's cause I am. I'm sleepy, dammit. Good night!

Fun Times with Zee & Me

Things going with me and lil Z:

He recently moved to the preschool room at his daycare. He also recently met J--, a three year old girl who looks like she's 6 and talks like she's 30. I was excited at first, because she's a child of color. Note the "at first." Lil J is a bully. She picks on all the kids, takes things, hits them, etc. Including mine.

(The other thing she does is constantly say that she is brown, points out to Z's dad that he is white and Z is brown, points out to me that I am brown. So in turn, Z mentions color quite a bit now. I wanted him to discover this on his own, not get it pointed out. Oh well.)

Now my boy is a little younger than her, and just moved from the toddler room where they babied him. I baby him, too, so I can't totally blame them, but I'm working on letting him grow up. (It's hard, y'all. He IS my baby. And he's so cute, I just wanna squeeze him all the time. But I digress.)

The other morning I take Z to school, and J sits down next to where he's playing. Z all of a sudden bursts into 'Charlie-Brown-streaming-out-the-side-of-your-face' tears. I take him aside and finally get him to tell me what's wrong. "SHE'S NOT MY FRIIIIIIEEEENNNDDD!" he sadly exclaims. All I could do not to laugh.

So I'm trying to figure out how to get my boy to man up, cause he is completely punking out right now. I'm not encouraging him to hit, just to defend himself through words and actions. It's a different kind of parenting when you can no longer protect them, but instead you have to teach and give them the tools to protect their little selves.

Any body have advice on stopping a bully? Greatly appreciated!!

Okay, so the other thing in Momma & Z news is that my boy discovered more of his, shall we say, boy parts. He's learning to bathe himself, and I told him to wash under his p.... He leans all the way over and sees his T's, for the first time I guess. "Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! What.is.that?!?! Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Is it poopy???"

I am completely caught off guard and trying not to laugh. "Huh?" I say, pretending I didn't hear.

"What.is.THAT!?!?" he repeats. Now, no other word would come to mind but ba.lls, but I can't tell that to a 3 year old. I can just hear the pre-school teacher calling me, "Z is asking the children if they have ba.lls." The only other thing I think of is 'sac.' So that's what I say. He looks at me, looks back at the object in question, looks at me, and decides, "Naaaaah, that's not a sac!!! It's POOOOOOPYYYYYY!!!!" Why there would be poopy hanging down there is beyond me, but whatever. That's a conversation for him and his father. LOL!