Just Sayin'

One of my biggest pet peeves is something that we have to deal with nearly every time I/we take Jude to playground or playgroup or children's museum, etc.  Older kids with absolutely no awareness of the little ones that are occupying the same general space as them.  Fist off, if you have older children, keep them out of the toddler lot.  It's a TODDLER lot, not a big kid lot so under most circumstances, they don't belong on the tiny toys (even if the playground has both big kid toys and little kids toys, direct them toward the appropriately sized ones).  This also goes for most of the play groups, they have age limits for a reason, big brother wasn't invited.  As for places like children's museums and play centers... really, they're also aimed at younger children.  Let's be honest with ourselves here.  If you're child is big enough to be severely misusing the toys and centers provided, like standing on top of counters, trying to squeeze their too large head into an itty bitty wizards hat, being unable to close the door on a riding car (because it's built for a two year old not a ten year old), or playing a game of catch with fake fruit rather than pretending to buy it, then take them somewhere else.  Just because you're too lazy to update your list of age appropriate play options doesn't mean my two and a half year old should have to suffer the consequences.

Oh, and this goes double for the mall play centers, the ones with POSTED height restrictions and toys that are so basic I can't imagine why you think school aged child would even find any challenge to them.  When I see kid of five foot two go flying OVER the head of a toddler as they jump from one bubbly car to the next.... there's something seriously wrong with that picture.  Those are children that need to be at a real park, with big kid slides and such, or at a gym playing basket ball or something.  Take them to a field to play tag, or give them a soccer ball to kick around, anywhere but the mall play center.

There are exceptions to these miscreants, these big ol' cyclones of energy that leave destruction and chaos in their wake.  I've witnessed some old children really take the time to interact with the younger ones, play in their games, help them up the ladder to the slide, and just be genuinely nice and thoughtful of the smaller people around them.  I LOVE these kids.  I want to hug them and pat their little well behaved heads.  They seem to be aware that they are not only sharing the play space, but are in a way borrowing it from the smaller children, they're guests and they act with respect.  So if you want to teach your child to be THAT kid, by all means, bring them to the toddler park, but otherwise, keep them away.  When it comes to my little boy, with his polite manners and carefully actions, the little guy who will actually stop and go around another kid if they're in his way instead of pushing past them or bowling over them, if your big kid hurts him or takes something from him I will not hesitate to put them in their place... which usually puts you on the spot for your lack of attention to your own child's actions... and the fact that they act that way at all when they should know better... which makes you look like an idiot.  Just sayin'.

 

 

Courage is fire, and bullying is smoke. - Benjamin Disraeli

It's time to talk bullying.  Oh yeah, one of my most favorite topics to discuss when it comes to children and proper parenting.  Now, I've noticed a lot of people saying they don't want their kid to be a bully and the sentiment seems to be based on a basic social understanding that bullying is wrong, and occasionally on the parent having been bullied as a child and knowing what the other end of things felt like.  These are both good reasons, but they are by no means the only reasons, and by no means the most complex ones.  Oh boy, here we go.

First, let's me ask you this: do you want your child to have a hard life?  I'm going to take a wild guess and say you answered that with a resounding NO!  Okay, so let me ask you another question: do you want your child to be happy?  YES!  See, easy questions, no fear here.  Okay, so now: do you think that bullies have a hard life?  Are the happy?  Here's a hint, the answers are usually the opposite of your former ones.  To understand the whys we're going to have to delve a little deeper.

Okay, friends, they are essential to the happiness of most individuals (I say most only to cover those that have disorders that cause them to prefer being alone) whether it be a ton of them or just a couple of really good ones.  They lift our spirits when we're down, they share our joys, they help us when we need to move, they defend us to others, etc.  Friends pretty much rule.  For some they even take a higher place than family since friends are chosen and family is usually not.  So, do bullies have friends?  Nope.  Typically bullies attract "friends" in symbiotic ways, like tics on dogs.  People who need protection and therefore latch on to a bully for it.  Sometimes people who simply don't want to be the one bullied by said bully so they're on the "winning side" of things.  Others are of like mind but this makes the relationship one of the fair weather kind because bullies don't back each other up, they turn on each other when in trouble.

So, in summation, bullies are pretty much friendless.  No friends = unhappy life.  Is that safe to assume?  In generalities at the very least?  Okay, so then it's safe to assume that by allowing your child to be a bully and exhibit bully like behavior you are contributing to their unhappiness in life.  Awesome, huh?

Next I'll just quickly cover the idea that bullies are disliked by everyone else.  You don't like bullies, right?  Bullies are assholes.  Bullies suck.  Bullies are hated, despised even.  I don't know about you, but I really don't want my son to be despised.  I don't want him to be THAT kid.  I want my child to be well liked, for the awesome little person that he is.  I want him to be the one that stands up to bullies, stands up for other kids being bullied, to fight for the underdog... but not necessarily to be it.  This is where teaching assertiveness comes into play (not aggressiveness, BIG difference).

Last I'm going to cover a very little thought about consequence of allowing bullying behavior to continue in your child.  It involves your child's life, their physical well being, I'm talking about their mortal life.

Heavy huh?

Think about this though: in nearly every school shooting that has occurred who are the shooters?  They're the misfits, the outcast, the kids that are bullied.  And who are typically those kids primary targets?  The bullies.  Everyone else is acceptable collateral damage to those shooters.  Sometimes they'll target kids that were just connected to the bullies, kids that snickered at the teasing, even kids that just stood by and didn't do anything... they didn't help, but the bullies are the primary goal.

So even if you're not willing to stop bullying and aggressive behavior for the sake of the other children that may come into contact with yours, do it for the sake of your child and the life that could be cut short if you don't.

For a good fictional read on the topic I recommend Jodi Picoult's Nineteen Minutes.

Image from my stock, editing by mushmeshmosh @ deviantART

Smiling Hearts

You know, if you were to only read what I write here and know nothing else about me... I kind of sound like a bitch.  I'd like to take a minute, or a couple of them, to say that I'm not a perfect parent.  I sound like I think I am, but I don't, honest.  I make mistakes, I get frustrated and angry, I even snap sometimes.  I'm human.  The  point of my musings here are more for educational purposes I guess.  Writing about what I've done wrong sort of defeats that purpose unless it's to highlight how I do them differently now.  I'm writing about the things I feel I'm doing right because they are the things I feel will be most beneficial to anyone else reading this.  That and I like to rant so complaining about what other people are doing wrong gives me more freedom in that area.

You also must understand that I entered into the role of parent on purpose.  It's the only thing in life I've ever been sure of.  I've changed my mind about what career I want a handful of times, but I've never changed my mind about my desire to be a mother.  I've never doubted it.  I've been planning for this since I was a small girl.  I took very good care of my baby dolls, thank you very much.  On top of my own desire (and yes, I'm positive these things are separate) I was also raised to be a mom.  I grew up in an environment where families were/are the most important part of life and in a religion that stressed women as mothers (Mormon, and no, I no longer subscribe to it).  So all of my preteen years, right up until I chose to stop attending church, I was being prepped for that role.  Since I actually wanted to be a mom someday it worked out well.  For those that don't it would likely suck just a bit.

I babysat all the time, even for free because I just LOVED kids (which is funny because now I only do it for people I really, really like).  I borrowed babies during Sunday school so I could play out in the halls with them (which conveniently also meant getting out of class).  I was one of those kids that asked for a baby sister for Christmas.  Never got one though.  Santa totally cheated me.

As I got older I thought I wanted to teach, which was discussed in an earlier post, and even after I discarded that idea I never tossed the urge to have a baby.  While younger there wasn't much thought to how I would raise any children I had.  I didn't think about the details of it all, which is why I'm horribly grateful that I didn't have a child when I was younger.  I wasn't ready and that lack of forethought proves it.

I was 27 when we decided to to try for a baby, and got it in one shot.  28 when Jude was born, and I'll be 31 on his 3rd birthday this year.  While I wouldn't mind the energy levels I had in my youth, I honestly don't think I would be doing nearly as good of a job at raising him if I'd had him even three years earlier.  I've taken developmental psych, which I think should be offered, and encouraged, in every high school.  I've also attended Early Childhood Development and Child Guidance classes.  Both of which I'd also highly recommend to any parent.  Even if you can't afford actual college classes, look into local community projects, YMCA, churches, etc.  They are well worth the time.  Not only are you likely to learn strategies that help in making your child's life better, but also your life easier, your family unit stronger and your days less stressful.  There's nothing like following through with a new technique on child rearing and having people, even strangers, compliment you on how you interact with your child.  It'll make your heart smile to know that you're on the right track.

Mind your Ps and Qs

So, Jude is now officially two and half, not just merely two, and I would like to draw attention to something that I think is pretty fucking awesome.  At this tender, young age, so fondly refereed to as the "Terrible Twos" my son not only says 'please' and 'thank you' with great regularity, he also says 'you're welcome', 'bless you' when someone sneezes, sorry, even when he accidentally does something (intent should never be a factor), and within the last week has started saying excuse me when he burps.

We, of course, started the process by teaching him please and thank you in sign when he was too young to verbalize them so when he did reach the speech milestone the foundation has already been laid.  We continued to ask him to "say the whole sentence" when asking for something which meant saying please, identifying the object or activity he wanted and also the individual he was asking it from (this is something I find very important but is often left out in the manner teaching these days.  And yes, sir and ma'am are coming up here soon.) in whatever order he could get it out in.  From there, the rest has simply been teaching by example.  I always ask him please and tell him thank you for everything, even hugs and kisses.  I tell him you're welcome every time he says thank you.  I say bless you when I hear anyone sneeze and I always tell him I'm sorry if I bump into him, or if I overreact over something.  Oh, and when I burp I say excuse me, at least when he's around.

It's simple.  It's wonderfully simple.  It's so simple I have no idea why other children aren't as polite as mine... oh wait... it's because the parents themselves can't measure up to my two and half year old son.  I'm shaking my head and frowning right now, even if you can't see it, trust me, it's happening.

You've probably heard it before, and you'll likely hear it again, but it's true; behave how you want your children to behave.  And start young.

Trial and Error

Okay, so one of the most important things I've learned in the last few months when it comes to parenting is this: Don't simply point out (and punish) inappropriate behavior, give the child an appropriate behavior to replace it with.

Sounds like a "duh" statement, but really, how many times do you find yourself telling your child "stop, no, we don't do that" or putting them in time out for something, even going so far as to explain to them the specifics of what they did wrong and why (and I would hope this is part of the process is general but I know better than to assume), but never really telling them, or showing them, what to do INSTEAD?  No, really, stop and think about it next time.

We, the general we, have a tendency to set up a learning environment that expects a kid to learn by trial and error, and then we get upset with them when they don't learn fast enough.  They try one thing, they get punished, they try another, they get punished, they try another, etc... until eventually they stop being punished so they can assume they got it right.  Not only is this a way to set your child up for constant punishment or reprimand, it's also making your job more difficult by extending the amount of time you need to spend teaching them a particular appropriate behavior.  Even some of the coolest, nicest, smartest parents I know seem to be prone to this misstep on the parenting path.  Hell, I didn't notice myself doing it until it was pointed out to me (the practice in general, not to me personally) and I still have to catch myself and remind myself that it's not the most productive way of handling situations with Jude.  It's a tough one.

Next time you find yourself stopping an inappropriate  response in your child make an effort to give them an appropriate alternative.  It will make both your lives easier, I promise.

And I'm tired, so that's all for now.

Jude and Connor, no connection to the post, just a cute shot.

Don't test me.

So, my boys are sleeping, my kitty is currently curled up in my lap (trying his best to look comfortable despite the laptop in his way and my arm awkwardly positioned to allow usage of the mouse), I'm eating Cadbury mini eggs (oh how I love to hate you Easter season), sipping on a light white wine, and I am contemplating parenthood.  Life is good.

Why did you have a child?  I know why I did, I mean, at least I understand my own personal desire to be a parent.  I think.  I guess it's not really that easy of a question to answer.  Even if you can answer why, the answer sometimes brings forth more questions, which creates this vicious cycle of logical vs philosophical vs biological that leaves you wondering what the point of anything truly is...

So let's skip that, shall we?  Instead let's ask ourselves another question.  A more pertinent one.  What is your ultimate goal in the raising of your child?  See, a much more important question.  Forget the why's of childbearing.  No, a child can be a total accident and still have an equal shot at a decent life compared to one that was planned.  The thing that a child's success tends to hinge upon is something far greater.  It is the INTENT of the parent.

I'll make an example of myself, to let you know where I'm going with this.

Hello, my name is Tiffany, and I'm attempting to raise a healthy, happy, emotionally stable, realistic, useful, productive member of society.

"Hello, Tiffany!"  That's your response, or at least it is according every movie that has depicted some type of self help group congregating has led me to believe.

Every system, eco, biological, mechanical, etc., requires balance, and it requires every part to do it's job in order to run smoothly.  Do we dispute that?  God, I hope not, because to do so would be a bit retarded.  And yes, offense meant, because if you happen to be one of the few that thinks the chaos is key to understanding the universe you are blinding yourself to everything from the scientific evidence to the spiritual arguments that will tell you otherwise.  Life on this planet is a delicate balance that requires every little piece to do it's part to maintain harmony... which we as humans sort of suck at, so it's not surprising that we're not particularly balanced right now.  Over population being, I think, the number one contributor to this (stop having babies people! One to replace each person is MORE than enough, so just stop procreating already).

Ugh, see, this is why I'm not an actual journalist.  I have a tendency to want to run with tangents... and a lack of desire to placate people by sugar coating the truth.  People who upset too easily would never have lasted two hundred years ago.  Natural selection would have done it's job... damn bike helmets.  See, and over population wouldn't be a hot button like it is today!  Shame.

So, back to my question of what YOU hope to accomplish as a parent.  I think too many people are focused on themselves (I just want my kids to love me!) and narrow minded in their views of what is good for their children (I just want them to be happy!).  So, in Google searchable terms "permissive by choice" parents.  These are people that, in my crude terms, are treating their children as pets.  Yup, you read that right, pets.  Give them a cute name, dress them in cute clothes, make sure they're fed and watered, clean, and oh, don't forget... I want them to wag their tails at me when I praise them and lick my face when I come home from work and show me all sorts of affection for no other reason but that I take them for walks and give them treats!!!!  Yeah, pets.

To simply say that you want your child to be happy, without the ability to explain how that's going to be accomplished shows a sever lack of understanding of life in general.  Okay, so you want your child to be happy... what do you think that means?  Making sure they have the basics?  Giving them the coolest toys?  Hugging them on a regular basis?  No, seriously, WHAT DO YOU MEAN by that?  I ask because for me, wanting my child to be happy involves so many layers of skills and experiences that I can't even pretend that "I just want him to be happy!" covers it all.  Not even close.  I would have to write a text book to fully explain what that means for me, for my child.  So what do YOU mean when you say it?

I'm not going to delve much further into that topic at this precise moment because I think it's more important to let the question fester.  Let it burrow it's way into your brain and lay it's eggs so that some day in the not so distant future you'll be awakened with pain in your skull that might actually make you take note and really stop to think about it for a while.

Children are IT.  They are the answer to every problem we have as a society, as a populace, as a nation, as a species.  They are IT.  Even if we can't figure out the solution to world hunger, THEY might, and so therefore they are the answer.  Everything we do, should be with them in mind.  Every thought we have toward solving political tensions should involve them.  Every time we think about the future it should be their future, not ours, that we concern ourselves with.

If you are one of those parents, those "I just want my kids to love me and be happy" type of parents, don't even talk to me.  If you see me in public just walk away, because if I hear you say that without any real idea of how you plan to accomplish that outside of superficial bullshit like toys, clothes, organic breastfeeding, swaddling, co-sleeping, Baby Einstein DVDs and Leap Frog learning systems I will punch you in the face.  I will punch you in your selfish new age hippie I don't feel I got enough love as a child so I'm going to overindulge my offspring and turn them into boundary-less brats who bully other children while I shrug it off as just being a kid faces.  Don't test me.

Disaster Movie

In light of recent events in Japan I'm going to take a second to point something out to my fellow parents of young children.  The news isn't aimed at your two year old child.  Check it:

On September 11th, 2001, terrorists crashed two planes into the Twin Towers and everyone sat in front of their TV's riveted, horrified, oblivious to anything else.  Teachers in schools stopped teaching and turned on the news and watched it with their students.  Even in child care centers for young children teachers were doing the same.  This isn't surprising, it was huge, it was beyond our (U.S. citizens) understanding, how could it happen to us?!  No one stopped to think of how these images, repeated over, and over, and over again affected the children watching.  Think many, many, many planes crashing into many, many, many buildings.  And you thought you were afraid to fly after knowing it was only two planes (four total, but two in the Towers case) and two towers... now think about it from the toddlers perspective.  Uh huh.

Young children live in a world centered around them.  It's natural, it's normal, it's the limit of their cognitive development.  They have yet to learn of a world outside their backyard or how it impacts their lives, or how their lives impact the world.  As parents it's important that we teach them these things, but when they're ready, and toddlers simply aren't ready.  Not to be hit with horrific disaster images on the TV anyway.  This is where the whole "parenting" thing comes into play.  You need to slowly introduce these things to your child in a productive way, don't expect the news/TV to do it for you.

While watching the footage of houses being swept away by a flood they are very likely to fear that their house is next.  They don't understand that that house on the TV is in another state, another country, halfway across the globe from them.  You may not even be aware of their distress, not at first, not at all if you're not paying attention.  Nightmares, acting out, sudden increase in separation anxiety.  Think about it.  Would you willing let them watch a movie that you knew was going to scare the crap out of them?  One fraught with explosions, earthquakes, plane crashes?  No.  At least I hope not... although there are a lot of pretty dumb parents out there...

I never would have thought of this on my own.  I don't watch the news myself (I read it on-line thank you very much) so it was never something that I thought about.  It was brought to my attention in a class on Child Guidance, aimed at educators, taken because I needed a night class worth at least 2 credits.  I figured learning more about child development is never a bad thing.  I was right.  The class has inspired me to be a better parent.  In this case it inspired me to do some more research on the topic.

Here's a decent article to get you started: Children are Traumatized by News Footage of Disasters.  If you read the comments by readers remember two things.  One, we're talking about YOUNG children.  There is nothing wrong with introducing knowledge of the world to your child, teaching them about natural disasters and how to be prepared for them, all that jazz.  School age children are ready, toddlers are not, it's about the hard-wiring, brain development people.  And two, just because they don't look like they're "paying attention" doesn't mean they aren't absorbing the information.  Children are sponges and they take it all in.  Never underestimate them or you'll live to regret it.

Take special care of those ruby slippers!

This is going to be a short post I think... although I've been wrong about these things in the past so we'll see, huh?

This past Friday our dear friend Lana took Jude and I (along with her two monkeys) to see Caspar Babypants at the Federal Way library.  For those parents not acquainted with the wonderful world of Babypants, check him (and his fellows) out.  He is Chris Ballew of Presidents fame, so that may ring a bell for some of you, especially the local Seattleites.  If not, it doesn't matter, your toddler won't care if you reference your teenage years when discussing their current musical tastes.

The point of this post isn't actually to talk about Babypants (that's just an added bonus really), it's to mention something I saw at the show.

Unfortunately Jude was not feeling well that morning and sat on my lap through most of the show (Jude hardly ever gets sick so I think the universe is making up for it this month by plaguing the little guy with everything all at once) so I had time to glance around and observe other parents and their children.  Normally this leads to thoughts of how inept most people are at raising children.  I'm not saying I'm perfect, but in today's society it's really not that hard to be above the average, which is terribly sad, and horribly frightening when you consider our future depends on these kids...

And if I go off on that tangent this will most definitely not be a short post.  So back to it.  Observing, noticing, yeah.

There was a boy there, probably about 4 years old, with his father and younger brother (maybe 6 months old).  Average looking kid, behaving well, not making any sort of nuisance of himself, in most ways unremarkable (not to say he's not amazing, hell, the kid could be the next Einstein for all I know, I just mean I didn't interact with him so that brief period of time and what I could view on the outside is all I've got).  The child stood out to me for one reason only.  His shoes:

Yup, awesome.  I can't say if those were the exact shoes he was wearing, but you get the idea.  They were very worn, missing sequins, obviously loved and deeply appreciated.  I saw this and smiled, and my heart smiled even wider.  Here was a child who was not being forced to live inside a box.  Whose parents didn't care what other people think, or are at least were willing to push their own feelings aside in order to allow their little boy some freedom of self-expression.  Now, of course, I don't know any of the specifics of their story.  I could be wrong and those shoes are his cousins that got left behind at a play date and his were lost and his father was in a hurry so they just grabbed them and ran... but I doubt it.

Some people may try to read into this little boys choice of shoes, I won't for two reasons.  First, it doesn't matter.  You can say it's a sign he'll grow up to be Gay, and so what?  It's none of our business if he does and being a supporter of equal rights to ALL I wouldn't care anyway.  I could also point out that he may grow up to be a dancer, a straight one even, so there.  Second, children don't necessarily subscribe to the same gender expectations we do.  Their gray area is far larger than ours so don't be too quick to jump to conclusions where sexuality is concerned.  They don't even know what sex is yet, so lay off and let them be kids.  Quit picking them apart like they're some sort of sociology assignment.

But I digress.

So, to the parents of that little boy, even though they aren't likely to ever see my meager little blog, you get a gold star in my book.  Thank you for reminding me, the pessimist that I am, that there are still parents out there that rock.

Shock and Awe

I have I mentioned how supremely awesome Jude is?  I haven't?  Well, he is.  He is one of the coolest little people I've ever met.  And I'm not just saying that because he's my son, I mean, I can't deny that I am biased because of it, but truly, you'll see.  Give it some time and his pure awesomeness is going to come shining through in my tales of life with him around.

Take last night for example, and today, the two, combined.  Last night I was pulled out of bed by an upset "Momma?" after only a few gentle coughs.  Those few gentle coughs preceded a lot of vomit.  Poor little dude had no idea what to think, this is the first time, aside from one gag reflex spew about a year ago, that he's ever vomited.  He's a healthy boy, and we're lucky.  Anyway, throw-up, all over her blanket and wubbie (THE blanket and wubb) and on him.  I pick him up and take him into the bathroom, to discover he was still holding some of it in his mouth (totally gag worthy, I know) because he didn't know what to do with it.  I had him spit it out, and gave him some water, cleaned him up then put him in bed with Papa so I could clean up the mess in his bed.

That done I cuddled him for a bit to see if he was okay (no fever, no crying, no nothing, he was totally fine), then put him back to bed.  About ten mins later I here "Momma, coughing" so I run in there to check... nope... wait... and there it is.  This time I caught most of it in a towel.  Although somehow he managed to get it in his hair.  I ran a bath, cleaned him up, cleaned up the bed again, checked him out, gave him some Pepto and then back to bed.  I stayed up a bit to make sure he fell asleep with no more discomfort or worry.  By the way, this all started somewhere around 3:00 a.m. and ended around 4:30 a.m.  I got up to check on him again at 7:00 a.m. and then he was up at 8:45... I do NOT function well on lack of sleep.  Not one bit.  Today was rough.

The point of all of this is to emphasize how after all of that, he was the sweetest and happiest little boy today.  We even got around to "playing pictures" which is what I call working on some stock photography (and I have no desire to explain all that right now), and he was all about it.

 

Not only was he willing, he was his usual goofy, playful, highly photogenic little self.  Oh, and that little black thing in his hand?  That's my camera remote.  He likes to take the pictures himself.  Yeah, that's my boy.  Radness for so many reasons.

Cone of Slience

I'm a bit unsure as to how to begin this post.  I have two totally connected, and yet totally different ideas on my brain.  The first is the experience of taking Jude to see a live performance of one of his favorite (and one of my own as well) children's shows.  Which was The Imagination Movers, who, by the way ROCK, I'd throw my panties at them (metaphorically speaking, ahem, of course).  If you have not yet checked them out I highly recommend them.  They are fun, energetic, they teach all about problem solving (which if you understand anything about children is a very, very, very important skill to teach) and they don't drive parents crazy.  Quite the contrary, they sort of make us wish we'd thought of it, and you won't mind it if their songs get stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

"The Imagination Movers" is a show aimed at young children that is designed also to not turn off the adults, like say... The Wiggles do.  Sorry, maybe it's because I'm not British, or maybe it's simply because I need a little more style in my childrens programing, but The Wiggles creep me out.  I don't like them.  And they're annoying and the songs suck.  Adults have to listen to this stuff too.  Don't get me wrong, I sing the five little monkeys song with my boy and he thinks it's great, but I don't need a band to do that.  I don't need a tv show to do that.  If I'm going to take the time to watch a kids show (and when I get to THAT post, the one on TV and kids, it will be a far larger post, trust me), then I want them to do something I can't do.  Being able to do the ittsy bittsy spider in technicolor should NOT make you a tv star in my book.  I can do that just fine on my own, thank you.  Give me more, give my child more.

Anyway, I'm going to get off track again.  I have a tendency to do that if you haven't already noticed.  Yeah, I can be a bit of a rambler, but at least I make it interesting,

Taking Jude to see the live performance was AWESOME.  His wonder at seeing those TV stars mere feet from him, having them wave *at him, feeling like he was connecting with them, was something I can't put a price tag on.  He talked about it for hours afterward, mentioned them when we put him to bed, and called me in afterward to tell me he would like to see them again (which in Jude speak is "Magiantion Movers again please?").  It's brings to mind pulling out my Tim Noah record (yup, I am indeed old enough to recall vinyl) with it's signed jacket and thinking I was so cool for having met him in person and having him write a message to me using MY name.  How amazing is it to get to pass along these experiences to our children?!

The other thing on my mind is really just a few sentences that passed between Aaron and I this evening.

We're heading up to Ikea tomorrow with Jude's Grandma, Aaron's mother, and Aaron mentioned that his brother had offered to watch Jude for us.  We both paused, not out of trepidation over his brother watching him, no, that's not a worry.  We both looked at each other, and Aaron says... "I kind of want him to come with us." to which I replied "Me too."  I turned to Jude, standing right next to me and said to him "Oh my, what are we thinking?  We actually WANT our child around?!  Oh no!  What are we thinking?!" or something to that effect, and he giggled, and grinned, and it made me stop to think about it.  There ARE parents out there that would happily take any offered opportunity to have their child watched by someone else.  We don't feel that way.  For the most part, unless it's something that's simply not appropriate to take Jude too, or if it's that once every couple of months we need a date night for us to reconnect.... we like having our kid around.  Most of my friends are the same way as us, which is maybe why I don't often stop to dwell on the issue, but the majority really aren't.   Is it any wonder our kids are turning out the way they are?  That our society is where it is?  Our world?

We have these amazingly precious little resources on our hands.  These gems that can't be picked out of the rocks or panned in some stream, that can only be created when two people choose (for the most part... let's not deviate into the scary areas right now) to come together in the most intimate and vulnerable ways possible (again, assuming normal, non-scary copulation).  Even a one night stand can fit this bill, so don't give me any crap about that sort of thing.  It's still a choice to engage in an act that has the potential to produce a biological wonder.  Sadly that does mean that they ability to have them is given to nearly everyone and that means there's no regulation on making sure they go to those that truly want or deserve them... which is just depressing when I stop to think about it.

I wanted my child.  We, Aaron and I, both talked about it, chose the time frame to start TTC, and entered into the parenting world with the knowledge that we were taking on a huge responsibility.  Not just to our child, but to the world.  Yup.  I'm not saying that to imply that we've created, or expected to create, some genius of some fashion or another.  I'm saying that because every human being out there that chooses to have a child (again, I'm talking about the norm, not the scary dark places right this moment) takes on the responsibility of raising a productive, useful, socially beneficial, emotionally stable member of society.  And this includes those with children born with deficiencies, or issues, because everyone can find a place, or can be helped to find a place, in which they fit.  The world isn't black and white, so there are niches for everyone, so long as they are given the best possible opportunity to find that niche.  Many of our greatest minds and talents suffered from some form of mental illness or developmental challenge, so I don't want to hear that excuses either.

I'm not saying that you should expect your child to be the next Einstein, I'm just saying that you should never underestimate your child's ability simply because they've been diagnosed with something.

And this is a deviation from my initial thought.  Pardon, I'm very tired and the lap top is running out of battery power, so I'll wrap this up.

Jude has far out shined any possible expectations I had going into parenting.  He's taught me more in two years than I thought possible (including patience which I didn't think anyone could teach me) and has made me a better person, a person I actually like a lot more, go figure.  Having him around for the most mundane tasks makes them interesting again, fun again, and brings wonder into the silliest of activities.

Oh, although, when I'm trying to study Business Law, or write on essay on the role of reputation in Shakespeare's Othello... I could really use a cone of silence... just saying.

Own it, hone it, and love every minuet of it.

Oh dear, it is a restless sort of evening.  For me that usually means reading but lately I've been feeling that itch to write...

I was once told, by a well renowned psychic and respected dealer in the metaphysical arts, that I would write a book.  Or, she saw something to that effect.  The key with a good psychic is that they understand better than to interpret their visions too specifically.  I believe in true seers, so this is said with no disdain.  On the contrary, I totally dig true psychics.  A psychic's role is to tell you what they see at face value, not to tell you what they think it means (at least not without letting you know there are options and that it's an open interpretation).  I also believe that 95% of the people out there claiming to have a third eye are full of shit, so don't mistake me for a dupe.  I have only met one true psychic (a few with other, lesser, vibes), and I don't read my daily horoscope either (but I do own "The Secret Language of Birthdays", I'm a complicated person, deal with it).

Back to the topic at hand.  Writing.  Restlessness. {keep reading, it gets to the Momma message, I promise}

You know what is absolutely FANtastic about blogging?  I don't have to worry about proper grammar.  I pay attention, it's built in at my age, but I don't worry about it.  I can write run on sentences and I can write incomplete ones, and you know what?  It feels AMAZING!  I can randomly capitalize whole words to emphasize a point, like I just did, or I can use the often overused ... to let you know I'm leading up to something.  Wonderful, wouldn't you agree?  I love the freedom blogging gives us writers, the freedom those damn English professors never did.  Although I thank them for teaching me the rules, because you have to know the rules in order to break them with any amount of style.

I did have a point to hitting that "new post" link this evening.  This being my Momma  blog I did come here with the intent to talk about my son, or at least parenting in general.

I spent three of my evening hours tonight in a class designed to teach me how to be a better education/care provider.  Specifically when it comes to child guidance and dealing with challenging behavior... and no, I'm not in school in a Para-educator program, or Elementary Education one... I thought that was what I wanted to do once, but I was young and thought I liked other peoples children.  Now, not so much.  In fact, for the most part, I hate other peoples children.  This feeling began long before I had a child of my own, and it never killed my desire to have one of my own, it just killed my desire to educate them.  Want to know why?  Probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway.  Ready for this?

It's an uphill battle.

Yup, that's it, right there.  As a society we do not give our teachers enough credit for what they do.  And some of them become bitter because of it, and they end up sucking at their jobs.  Can I fault them?  No.  Does that mean I want them to teach my child?  No.  It's kind of a double standard, but as a parent, when it comes to my child's education, I care not.

Oh boy, I'm sort of weaving on my topic here and I'm not entierly sure how to get back on track...

Uphill battle.  Teaching not for me.  See, when I realized that most parents pretty much suck at being parents I in turn realized that being a teacher often means attempting to fix someone else's mistakes... while they continue to make them.  How's that for a tough job, huh?  Think about your job for a minuet.  Think about the times you have to redo something because someone else messed up.  Now, think about having to do it over, and over, and over, and over, and over again.  Same mistake, new mistake, same job, on a different job, it doesn't matter.  It's super frustrating, and it makes you grow to hate the job.

Teachers are constantly having to re-teach your child (or your neighbors, or your brothers, or your friends) the proper way to behave.  I say behave because half, more than half, of an educators job is to teach your child how to interact with the world around them.  Let's face it, you aren't doing it (due to all manner of reasons, I'm not judging... oh, wait, yes I am...), and the TV sure as hell isn't doing it, so who's left?  The people that are often forced to cope with a child's behavior, their teachers.  The ones that spend seven to eight hours a day, five days a week with them.

Nope, it won't be me, because with the knowledge an educator has on child development (physically, psychologically, and emotionally) man, I'd end up bitch slapping more than one mother.  I have but a tiny portion of the education they have (Psych class on childhood development and Childhood Guidance for educators) and I can't help but realize that our society is going to hell due to our lack of proper parenting.

What the hell are we doing sending a mother to jail for disciplining her child?  And then making headlines about it?  Did she beat him?  Is there any sign of abuse?  Neglect?  Nope.  None.  And yet because of her trials and tribulations there are now even more parents out there scared to death of being prosecuted for punishing their children.  Does this mean I condone abuse?  Fuck no.  Don't be ridiculous.  Even spanking, for the most part and in most cases, I think it uncalled for, but even so it's not MY right to tell another parent what to do.  You know what my opinion is on the matter?  Education.  Surprise, huh?

If we find that spanking, a very long used and well understood practice, is bad (which for the most part, I do believe it's unnecessary), then teach them how to do it better!!!!  I'm a student, by nature and by practice, I know to look for answers when they're not readily given, but I'm an A student.  I don't mean to brag, I simply mean to say that the average person needs a bit more prompting.  So.... let's educate them!  Damn it, we have a ton of parents out there failing to give their children any kind of discipline because they've been told spanking is wrong (which is what most adults older than 30 were raised with) but have not not been told what to do instead.  And don't tell me "Time out" because that is ONE method and it does NOT work on all children, not even close.  If it works for you, you're lucky (I'm lucky, it works for us for the most part), but the rest are left wondering what else there is.

Parenting classes should be more easily accessible.  Taking one should not be considered a fault, like the individual has some deficiency.  Do you feel bad when you take a class on painting because you want to become a better painter?  Are you embarrassed to take a cooking class to hone your kitchen skills?  Do you avoid mentioning to family that you're taking an literature class simply to better your life experience?  No.  So why should you feel embarrassed, or hesitate, to take a class that will make you a better parent?  Is the art, food, or literature more important than your child?  Oh, HELL NO.  If anything, you should feel proud to say that you have a desire to become better at the most important job you could possible be given, that of a parent/guardian.  Own it.  Hone it. And love every minuet of it.

Photo is my friend Lana and her son Owen.  She is one of the best and most inspirational Momma's I know!

Dim the house lights...

Is there anything better than getting the chance to give your child fun, interesting, educational, or otherwise just awesome experiences?  There is one thing I never stress (or, at least I stress far less) over and that's spending money on doing things with Jude.  You can not go wrong in giving your child EXPERIENCES over mere things.

Case in point.  This past weekend we took Jude to Imgao Theatre's touring production of ZooZoo!  I discovered this little gem thanks to those bastards of the computing world cookies and Facebook with their plethora of advertising, which I no longer find that annoying actually.  We weren't sure how Jude was going to take it all, so I made sure to get seats on an isle for ease of escape should it prove necessary.  We'd taken him to one full length movie in the theatre thus far (Tangled) and he did really well, but live theatre is a whole other ball game.  Same general field, totally different game.

Now, on a side note, I use to work in live theatre.  I've been on-stage, back-stage, in the house, all over.  So I'm well aware of how most theatres, and their crews tend to dread children in the audience.  ZooZoo! while directed at a youthful audience didn't strike me as specifically directed at toddlers, so I was a little worried.  I needed not be.

I packed a few quiet toys (and a few quiet snacks, shhh, don't tell the ushers), and we crossed our fingers.  Jude had fallen asleep in the car ride over, and in fact slept through the first 10-15 mins of the show, but we arrived at the theatre and were delighted to see a very large population of young children.  The average was likely around 8-10, but there were other children Jude's age (2 1/2), and even some younger, so we sighed with relief and found our seats.

When Jude woke to find himself in a dark theatre with fantastical looking hippos fighting for the covers of their slightly too small bed he was captivated!  The anteaters licking imaginary ants from the stage with their long tongues, the frustrated cat stuck in a giant paper bag, the penguins playing a rousing game of musical chairs... he watched enraptured by it all.

The show was truly wonderful, and the performers were a delight with their ability to bring so much character to creatures with mostly static features (masks) and primarily no verbal skills, but the best part, the part that has me grinning from ear to ear just writing this ridiculously long run on sentence about it, was my little boys joy in getting to see it all himself.  He still talks about it, and is now hopping all over the house like a frog chasing a fly, and I would happily give up my next new pair of shoes to see it again.

Next on the agenda?  A little more commercial, but still looking like a ton of fun indeed, The Imagination Movers live (again, thank you cookies).  Yup, he's going to be so excited.

She got it right.

{this is actually a copy paste from something I wrote a little over a month ago, but it seems right to re-post it here}

Our baby shower invitations featured a Elizabeth Stone quote: "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

Being my first (and only, so far) pregnancy and birth I had no idea just how true that statement is.  I had an idea, but you can't really know until you've had a child (or been a parent I should say).  There is often this completely irrational fear that something is going to happen to them when they are away from you; even if it's just in the other room, sleeping.  You worry some poisonous spider will creep in and bite them and you'll wake to find them swollen and feverish.  You worry they'll get twisted in their sheets and strangle themselves and you'll discover them cold and blue.  You worry someone will break into your home, through their bedroom window, and see them sleeping so peacefully they'll want to snatch them and take them for their own and when you check in on them you'll find the window wide and gaping and them gone...

How likely are any of these things to happen?  Slim to nil.  But if it's happened to even one other parent you fear it will happen to you, no matter how many parents never have to suffer it.  You keep this thought of "I don't want to be the ONE" tucked away in the back of your mind, not always visible, but always there.  You get up at night to check on them, feeling silly, but knowing that if you don't, and something is wrong, you will never be able to live with yourself again.  You dread it so much that you will call the sitter six times in two hours simply because you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach that if you don't, something will happen.  Not that it has already, not that, but that it will if you don't check.  You can go days without feeling it, and then it'll creep back out and hit you with such force you tear up and your insides feel hallow and heavy... even though your baby is sitting right next to you, safe in your care.  You stroke their hair, lean in and inhale the scent of them, kiss them so that your lips can confirm what your eyes are tell you.  They are alive.

I find myself feeling this a lot lately, with my little boy in that "I'm a big boy" phase of toddler-hood.  He's no longer in a crib, he picks out his own clothes, he helps feed the cat.  On top of that he jumps off the couch, stands up in the tub, and wants to break free and run every chance he gets, having no idea how much it scares me and trips up my heart.  I try to stay calm, I breathe deep, remind myself that I can't protect him all the time, but I WANT to.  I want to so desperately that it hurts.  Being a parent makes you so terribly, horribly, extremely, wonderfully vulnerable.

"When you are pregnant, you can think of nothing but having your own body to yourself again; yet after giving birth you realize that the biggest part of you is now somehow external, subject to all sorts of dangers and disappearance, so you spend the rest of your life trying to figure out how to keep {him} close enough for for comfort." — Jodi Picoult - Vanishing Acts

She got it right.

Whew, that's a bunch of back story right there!

I'm not entirely sure where to start.  Since this my "Momma" blog and I became one over two years ago, that's a little more back story that I really have the time or patience to get into.  At the same time I feel like some back story is in order... you know, just in case people that don't know me stumble upon my little foray into blogspot.  You may be wondering where this little person I speak so highly of came from (not in the literal sense, pretty sure most people know all about that), or if you're one of those "birth story" fanatics you may be curious to know how long my labor was (or any number of more disgusting facts), or maybe you don't care.

I think a compromise is in order in any case.  I'll just break it down into a few simple facts and we'll go from there.

Jude was a planned child.  And nope, I'm not telling you where/what time/position/etc we conceived.  And I'm going to just say it... you're weird if you even want to know.

I carried Jude past his due date and he was born on Sept 13th, 2008.  Those last few weeks were miserable and I had a tendency to threaten my still inutero child.  Name calling happened.  I simply don't understand the women who tell me they LOVE being pregnant.  For me it's a means to an end, despite the coolness factor of actually carrying a human being inside of you (that gets old FAST).  Not to mention your body is never the same after the fact.  But I'll probably come back to that topic at another point in time.

Jude was breach, and we did not discover this until AFTER I'd been in the hospital for about 11 hours.  Holy hell, that sucked.  He was an emergency c-section due to a fear of Meconium Aspiration (look it up, I'm not going to define it here, that's what Google is for).  My midwife had to hand me over to a surgeon and the next hour or so sucked even worse than the first 11.

Jude suffered no serious effects from being breach (although he's still a tiny bit pigeon toed but the doc assures us he's growing out of it).  He has a heart murmur, but after testing we were told it's not serious and will likely fade as he ages.  Everything else is spit-spot and in working order.  And apparently our little mister is well endowed.  I had no idea parents discussed such things, but now I know better.  We do.  So guys, it's highly likely that your mom talked about the size of your junk with her other mother pals when you were an infant.  Yup.  Just thought you should know.

What else is important back story type information?  Development milestones I suppose.

Let's see.  Jude rolled over at four months, started crawling at about six and a half months, and was taking unsupported steps at just over nine months (you can view video of all of these things on my YouTube).  He's always been a bit of an overachiever, which has my hopes up for his future success.

I think his talking was pretty much on par with the expectations for such things, at least when it comes to actual word acquisition.  He's always been a "talker" though and loves to communicate.

He's a Virgo boy and I love it.  What does this mean?  For all you non-astrology reading people, it means he's clean!  And organized, and paternal, and pays attention to details.  He comes to me when he needs a tissue for his nose and then lets me wipe it, oh, and blows for me.  When his diaper is coming off, he doesn't take it the rest of the way off, nope, he comes and let's us know so we can fix it (although now were into pull-ups and it's a moot point).  Dirty hands?  I get a "wash hands now momma" and it makes me so happy.  I'm one of the lucky ones folks, I will not deny it.

Oh, and my son is POLITE.  To all those parents out there who aren't teaching their kids manners you deserve a "FAIL" stamp in my book.  My son is two and a half and already says "Thank you" without prompting on many occasions.  He tells me "Bless you, Momma" when I sneeze and when I say it to him he replies with a "Thank you, Momma" and I didn't intentionally teach that to him.  He learned by example.  The worst thing you can do to your young children is underestimate them.  "When should I start teaching them {fill in the blank}?"  The answer is from day one.  If you live the way you want them to, they will follow in your foot steps.  And when it comes to teaching them please and thank you, it happens before they can talk.  Sign language works, try it, and it will begin the process earlier than most expect it to be successful.

And I have SO much more to say on that topic but this is still just back story right?  Yeah, so I'll move on.

Actually, no, I'll end it here.  Everything else can be filled in if needed as I go.  But now for a picture.  Well, a couple of pictures, and these are all taken by me (did I mention I'm a photographer?), except the one of all three of us.  That was taken by my dear friend Kent.  Jude is very photogenic, so expect a lot of pictures in my postings.

 

 

  

 

 

So yeah, that's my boy!

Yup, I'm at it again.

So here I am, starting another blog.  Not to imply that I have a ton of other blogs that I've started and stopped over the years.  No, really there's been only one other on LiveJournal (which I started back in 2002) and the random blogging on MySpace.  I say this more with the expectation that someone, somewhere, is going to sigh, roll their eyes and wonder what sort of a ruckus I'm going to cause with my writing this time.  Because, let's face it, I have a tendency to use my words to... cut to the quick.

Ah ha, but this time I'm not here for random blogging, or even for the purpose of stirring the pot.  THIS time I'm here not just as myself, but primarily as a mother.  "There's a difference?" you may well ask, "Jude was around the last time too."  Well, true, however I've had a little more time to grow into my role as Momma, and I find that my desire to bring to light the less savory actions of others in order to point out my... superiority has waned significantly.  Do not mistake this for complacency, mind you, I have not grown soft, I've merely grown more wise.

This blog, I've decided, is for my adventures in parenting, not my personal vendettas.

So be begin!  And I hope to see you safely to the other side.