In just a few days it will be L's birthday. She can hardly think of anything but her birthday. She is also quite mad (mostly at me) that she has to go to sleep so many times before her day arrives. Not only is L obsessing about her birthday, but she is insisting that everyone around her obsess about her birthday.
Last Sunday she asked her Dad why he hadn't told her "Happy Birthday" yet. The answer that it was not yet her birthday did not satisfy and she went on being offended. The next day at the grocery store, L caught the attention of a random stranger and said, "Today is my birthday!" Of course, the random stranger gave her a warm and enthusiastic, "Happy Birthday!" I discreetly reminded L that her birthday wasn't until Friday (assuming that the poor little thing is so excited she can't keep the days straight). L giggled and said, "I know, I just wanted to hear her say happy birthday to me!"
The cake is also obsessed over; what will it look like, when will I buy it, how will I take it in the car without it tipping over and getting ruined, what will it taste like, when will she eat it, who gets to share it with her, etc... Any moment not spent thinking about cake is spent thinking about presents. L has had a running list for the last couple of months. She is impressively specific about what she wants; a barbie doll with earrings that doesn't smell like sun tan lotion, earrings for herself (clip-ons because she hasn't asked for pierced ears yet -phew!), Troy and Gabriella dolls, Polly Pockets, princess dolls and many other items I have since forgotten.
I have to stop myself from warning her against getting too excited - I just don't want her to wake up the day after, look around at her toys and feel a little let down that it's all over. It's the anticipation of the fun and exciting that makes the mundane a little less so. I suppose that lesson can wait until she's a little older. Besides, these days if it isn't "Happy Birthday," L just isn't listening.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Say "Cheese!"
It's that most special time of year... okay, second most special time of year - back to school time! Q started 2nd grade last week. So far we've only had a couple of homework meltdowns (one of them was my meltdown), one tantrum over which shirt he was allowed to wear and one occurrence of racing to get there for pick up on time. So far, so good.
PICTURE DAY IS COMING... so says the form I received yesterday. There are several "Plans" to choose from. Ranging in price, each "Plan" offers several different sizes of the ugliest pictures a child will get taken throughout their childhood. I think my children are about as cute as they come, but Q's school pictures in previous years have made him look... weird. When I look at any child's school picture, if it looks even kind of good (like their hair is actually combed into place and both eyes are fully open and focused) I think, "What a great school picture! They sure got lucky this year!"
The worst part is the ridiculous backdrop. Q's kindergarten picture had shooting lasers as a backdrop. Is a child's appearance typically enhanced by the look of shooting lasers? I realize I'm treading on sacred ground here. School pictures are a tradition that just about everybody in the United States holds near and dear to their hearts. This is my dilemma. I don't like school pictures.
I know I sound bitter. That's probably because I am bitter. It kills me to have to pay any amount of money for some super cheesy photo that makes my child look less cute than he actually is. I am perfectly capable of taking bad photos of my child, so why can't we just feel satisfied with our free, bad pictures?
So I think, maybe I'll just get the class photo instead. Then, I see into the future. Q's friend wants to swap wallet size pictures and he has to hang his head in shame and admit to not having any wallet size photos to swap. Then I look like a bad Mom. Worse though, Q is scarred for life. Perhaps this is an exaggeration, but Q is my oldest and I haven't had enough experience to prove that he won't become a criminal or big jerk because of my mistakes.
I will buy the school pictures. I will grit my teeth and do whatever ridiculous task I believe necessary to keep Q from becoming a social outcast. Hopefully, he will be kind to me in my old age for this sacrifice.
PICTURE DAY IS COMING... so says the form I received yesterday. There are several "Plans" to choose from. Ranging in price, each "Plan" offers several different sizes of the ugliest pictures a child will get taken throughout their childhood. I think my children are about as cute as they come, but Q's school pictures in previous years have made him look... weird. When I look at any child's school picture, if it looks even kind of good (like their hair is actually combed into place and both eyes are fully open and focused) I think, "What a great school picture! They sure got lucky this year!"
The worst part is the ridiculous backdrop. Q's kindergarten picture had shooting lasers as a backdrop. Is a child's appearance typically enhanced by the look of shooting lasers? I realize I'm treading on sacred ground here. School pictures are a tradition that just about everybody in the United States holds near and dear to their hearts. This is my dilemma. I don't like school pictures.
I know I sound bitter. That's probably because I am bitter. It kills me to have to pay any amount of money for some super cheesy photo that makes my child look less cute than he actually is. I am perfectly capable of taking bad photos of my child, so why can't we just feel satisfied with our free, bad pictures?
So I think, maybe I'll just get the class photo instead. Then, I see into the future. Q's friend wants to swap wallet size pictures and he has to hang his head in shame and admit to not having any wallet size photos to swap. Then I look like a bad Mom. Worse though, Q is scarred for life. Perhaps this is an exaggeration, but Q is my oldest and I haven't had enough experience to prove that he won't become a criminal or big jerk because of my mistakes.
I will buy the school pictures. I will grit my teeth and do whatever ridiculous task I believe necessary to keep Q from becoming a social outcast. Hopefully, he will be kind to me in my old age for this sacrifice.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Lessons From a Bug
We've had some kind of virus vexing our household lately - apparently, something is going around. It's "just a cold" but it has affected each of us a little differently. So far, I've only had mild symptoms but this virus has had a significant impact on me. I have learned a couple of valuable lessons because of this "just a cold" that I think I've needed to learn for some time.
The first lesson is that I really take my health, and my family's health for granted. The other night I read my kids a book called "The Boy of Steel". It's about a little boy with cancer who gets to be Bat Boy for a day at Yankee Stadium. As I read, I kept having to hold back the tears. There would be a long pause, and my kids would look up at me and say, "What is it?" I realized that my kids didn't understand why the book held such emotion because they have never experienced serious illness, either in their own lives or with someone close to them. Perhaps we won't always be so lucky, but the healthy years we've had (and hope to have in the future) are worth, I'm sure, more than I realize. A nasty virus may make us feel miserable and complicate our lives temporarily, but it's such an insignificant blip on the radar screen of health.
The second is that I'm not a very good listener sometimes. I do generally listen and could probably regurgitate whatever was said verbatim, but my emotion and energy is not always directed at better understanding the person whom is speaking to me. For instance, my husband is telling me about his cold symptoms and I'm "listening" attentively, but as he speaks I am thinking back on the last time I had a cold and how terrible it was. He says he's congested, I think about how bad my congestion was. He says his chest hurts when he coughs, I think about how my chest probably hurt worse than his last time I had a bad cold. Or maybe it didn't, but who cares because my chest hurt. Everything he tells me, I instantly relate to my experience and then say, "Gosh, that's really too bad. I know how you feel." I don't think it's wrong to use my own experiences to relate to his experience, but maybe instead of dwelling on how I felt I could focus on his feelings. Then, perhaps, I would be compelled to focus on his needs and how to better help him.
I also have realized that being a good listener should probably include some probing questions. If my husband tells me his chest hurts, perhaps I should ask how badly it hurts, or maybe find out what else hurts. I could follow up with some ideas to help him feel better. Of course the main thing, is to really mean it.
The last few days I have really tried to be a better listener. Old habits die hard, so I can't say I've been 100% successful in my efforts - but the few times I've been able to really focus on what the other person is telling me and dig a little deeper, I've realized how good it feels to care about other people. Care about them enough to want to truly understand them better.
Not only does it feel good to care about what other people are telling me, it distracts me from my own issues. I can take a break from worrying about how my hair looks, whether I am sounding smart or how many McDonald's cookies I've eaten too many of lately. Sometimes, it's nice to not be so caught up in my own crap... I can be caught up in someone else's crap instead.
The first lesson is that I really take my health, and my family's health for granted. The other night I read my kids a book called "The Boy of Steel". It's about a little boy with cancer who gets to be Bat Boy for a day at Yankee Stadium. As I read, I kept having to hold back the tears. There would be a long pause, and my kids would look up at me and say, "What is it?" I realized that my kids didn't understand why the book held such emotion because they have never experienced serious illness, either in their own lives or with someone close to them. Perhaps we won't always be so lucky, but the healthy years we've had (and hope to have in the future) are worth, I'm sure, more than I realize. A nasty virus may make us feel miserable and complicate our lives temporarily, but it's such an insignificant blip on the radar screen of health.
The second is that I'm not a very good listener sometimes. I do generally listen and could probably regurgitate whatever was said verbatim, but my emotion and energy is not always directed at better understanding the person whom is speaking to me. For instance, my husband is telling me about his cold symptoms and I'm "listening" attentively, but as he speaks I am thinking back on the last time I had a cold and how terrible it was. He says he's congested, I think about how bad my congestion was. He says his chest hurts when he coughs, I think about how my chest probably hurt worse than his last time I had a bad cold. Or maybe it didn't, but who cares because my chest hurt. Everything he tells me, I instantly relate to my experience and then say, "Gosh, that's really too bad. I know how you feel." I don't think it's wrong to use my own experiences to relate to his experience, but maybe instead of dwelling on how I felt I could focus on his feelings. Then, perhaps, I would be compelled to focus on his needs and how to better help him.
I also have realized that being a good listener should probably include some probing questions. If my husband tells me his chest hurts, perhaps I should ask how badly it hurts, or maybe find out what else hurts. I could follow up with some ideas to help him feel better. Of course the main thing, is to really mean it.
The last few days I have really tried to be a better listener. Old habits die hard, so I can't say I've been 100% successful in my efforts - but the few times I've been able to really focus on what the other person is telling me and dig a little deeper, I've realized how good it feels to care about other people. Care about them enough to want to truly understand them better.
Not only does it feel good to care about what other people are telling me, it distracts me from my own issues. I can take a break from worrying about how my hair looks, whether I am sounding smart or how many McDonald's cookies I've eaten too many of lately. Sometimes, it's nice to not be so caught up in my own crap... I can be caught up in someone else's crap instead.
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