Things My Grandmother Taught Me: The Power of Patience

Recently, I’ve become more aware of a growing epidemic amongst our children: they’ve either never heard the words “excuse me” before, or have not been taught how to use them by their parents. Now, I am NOT a parenting expert. Those people don’t really exist, anyway. But I’m a huge advocate of common courtesy and manners. And there is never an age too early to teach manners to our kids.

I’ve been working with my daughter (6) and son (4) in regard to waiting their turn to speak and how it’s rude to interrupt two adults speaking. As far as I see it, they have it pretty good. If I ever attempted to barge in on a conversation being had between adults, as a child, there was no “polite” explanation about how such behavior is rude and unacceptable. There was only “The Look”….often times accompanied by a “So help me, God… something or other” through grit teeth. Now that I’m an adult, I look back on these memories with fondness. My parents and grandparents were absolutely correct to admonish me this way. For what kind of world would we live in were it not for the glue that holds us together: manners?

So when my little girl runs to me with very “important” information that needs some telling right away and I’m already speaking with someone else, my finger goes up. If she doesn’t get this hint, I remind her she MUST say excuse me. Then, since I’m the PARENT…(we’re in charge, here, folks. let’s remember that.) I will decide if her information is an emergency situation. If it is not, she must wait her turn for my attention. For example: I’m not ending my conversation with someone else if she can’t get a dress on her Barbie doll. I will, however, give her my full attention of she or a friend is bleeding from some part of the body. This will teach her some things: What is an absolute emergency situation, and what can wait…the importance of realizing that the world revolves around no one and that we all…even adults…must wait our turn.

Lately, I noticed, while I am in the middle of conversing with other parents, my child will try to interrupt and as I remind her to say “excuse me” the other parent will ALWAYS say: “Oh, it’s ok, honey. What do you need to say?” This is when I have to control my eyeballs from rolling into the back of my head. Please don’t do this. It’s very nice of you to be sweet to my kid in this way. But I’m teaching her something: The Power of Patience. So, the next time you see me hold up my finger at my kids and you are filled with all kinds of disgust that sound like this in your head :”How can she be so mean to this poor little girl?”, remember who her mother is and how she is devoting her life to raising polite, courteous kids.

 

In Defense of Roller Skating

One day last week, my daughter, Cate, announced to me that she was ready to begin roller skating. I said that was great! Let’s do it! Let’s hit the pavement! Woo hoo! In case you can’t tell, I was very excited. Then she proceeded to explain to me all the “gear” she was going to need before we even began to put on our skates. “Mom,” she says, “I’m gonna need a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, and gloves for my hands in case I fall and scrape them.”

“Hold up, ” said I. “Where did you learn that you need all that ridiculous stuff in order just to roller skate?” I cringed at the notion that a favorite pastime, a rite of passage for kids, was being dumbed down because of the fear propaganda this country thrives on. For heaven’s sake let’s not let our children fall and scrape a knee, an elbow, or get a scratch on the forehead.

I explained to her that when I was a kid, we strapped on our skates and hit the concrete and that was all there was to it. “But, mom, what if you fall down and get a boo boo?”  I told her we put a band-aid on the boo boo, put our skates back on, and continued on our merry way. “But mom, can you skate with a boo boo?” At this point I’m seeing red. What are our kids learning when they’re not with us? Colored terror threat alerts, hiding under their desks in case of bomb threats, wrapping themselves in bubble wrap before they make an attempt at any kind of play?

“Cate,” I said, “I am not buying knee pads or elbow pads. Maybe I’ll get you helmet, but mommy skated without any of these things and turned out just fine. And yes, you can still skate even if you get a boo boo. It’s not the end of the world. You won’t die. You won’t even end up in the hospital. Just make sure you fall on your ass and everything will be A-Ok.”

She reluctantly agreed with me. As a parent, I see it as my job to let my kids fall…both literally and figuratively speaking. Without falling, there will be no chance for them to get back up, learn from their mistakes, or gain self-confidence through practice and trial and error. We have to let our kids fail without fear of doing so. When they fall, we will pick them up, kiss their bumps and bruises and teach them the importance of keeping at something, not to quit, even if it hurts a little.

Life is messy and painful. But it is also blissful when we learn that the mess and pain are only momentary and can be transcended.

My kid’s head is rather large. She is a little top-heavy. MAYBE, she will get a helmet out of me. But that’s where I draw the line in the sand. She is going to get used to getting hurt. And after that she will learn that a scraped knee or elbow is nothing to fear.

 

The Curious Case of Clonazepam

I’m supposed to be taking care of two sick kids right now, instead I’m blogging, so file this one under Bad  Mommy, too.

Let me write about my on and off, love/hate (mostly Love) relationship with Clonazepam…the generic form of Klonopin. Technincally, I’ve supposed to be coming down off of this wonder drug for the better part of a year. Lately, I’ve been asking myself, “who would ever want to do such a thing?” “Why am I putting myself through this withdrawal process at all? This drug is perfect, it’s wonderful, it solves all my problems, worries, anxieties….etc etc etc”. The whole world should be on this drug…especially world leaders. Especially that guy in Iran who rocks the Members Only jackets, whose name I don’t feel like googling.

It’s the perfect antidote for anyone with a life, or anyone who has to live inside reality. Believe me, the fringes of reality are a much better place in which to reside…a lot more gets more accomplished this way, and with a smile or a whistle too.

I’ve decided to tell me liver to suck it. I’ve come to the conclusion, I never want to live without my little yellow pill, my mother’s helper that is going to help me avoid my nineteenth nervous breakdown. I’ll feign craziness if I have to. Which isn’t very hard for me to do. I’ve been at it for quite some time, already.

Now, I have a two year old’s pink eye to attend to, and a four year old with a fever. But not before I hit the medicine cabinet.

Holiday Show Mammarazzi

Two days ago, my kid was dressed as a dredle with a Santa hat on…must make sure all preschool politically correct bases are covered…for her holiday show.

That’s not even the best part: as the curtain is drawn back and the toddlers take the stage, parents begin to take out their long lenses. Needless to say, I felt a little bit inadequate with my tiny kodak easy share. When I realized that the kids were all too short to see anyway, I didn’t even bother to snap a single picture, lest I should stand up and get in the way of another parent’s money shot.

Is everyone else going overboard with these kids, or am I just too old fashioned?

The Non Mom

“We had a lovely Roast Beef dinner at the church last night. And I stayed up the night before and made SEVEN pies. It was nice. It was really nice. You know? Just nice.”  This is an example of what I over hear when I drop Cate off at school in the morning.

If these words ever come out of my mouth, you have my permission to get the knot ready for my noose.

Bad Mommy

I am. I hide it no longer. 

I’m on the computer way too much.

I yell too much.

I don’t clean enough.

I let them watch too much tv.

I don’t have them outside enough.

Sometimes lunch just doesn’t happen.

I’m lax on the diaper changing…if it doesn’t smell, I’m not changing it. Think of it as saving money

I don’t jump when they fall or cry.

I rarely play with them, since they have each other to play with now. That’s why I had a second one.

I make pancakes and french toast for dinner.

They eat too many hot dogs in one week.

I tell my four year old to beat up my 22 month old when he hits or bites her.

I’m just too damned tired to put up with anything. If I get the basics done with minimum screaming, I consider the day a success. 

Julia Roberts and Kelly Ripa can shove it.