Impacting Journey » kids

Pee-Pee Paranoia

eL. — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 02:42:10 +0000

Nothing in this world is more frightening than the possibility that there is something wrong with your child. Fortunately, other than ear infections that would level grown men, my kids have always been perfectly healthy. Next week my son has an appointment at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital to see a specialist about his eyes. For the first time I am faced with the possibility of our perfect health track record being tarnished.

For the past few months Will’s left eye has been wandering and turning inward. The doctors assure me there is nothing to worry about, that it will most likely be corrected by patching one eye to strengthen the other. However, a mama can’t help but freak out just a little.

Say a prayer for my kid if you think of it.

In the meantime, Will has medical worries of his own. Lately, he has become overly obsessed with his penis, clutching it like a security blanket at home, at the grocery store, at church…

Like all boys, Will is particularly fond of his manhood. I remember well the day he first discovered it. He marched down the hallway into the living room wearing nothing but a pair of green frog rain boots and his Davy Crocket coon-skin hat. He thrust his pelvis forward, pointing downward and announced, “Hey Mom! Check out my pee-pee!” It was a proud moment.

Since that day, he has developed some type of pee-pee paranoia. As a result, I am developing a case of pee-pee humiliation.

Last week, Canaan was “helping” me prepare supper and Will was marching in the kitchen. As usual, his hand was firmly clasped over his crotch.

“Will, do you need to go potty?” I asked looking up from the casserole before me.

He froze with his free hand out in front of him, glancing suspiciously around the room like some sort of spy. “No,” he answered is raspy whisper.

“Then stop holding your pee-pee,” I said.

“I have to protect it,” he said still in spy-stance. “There’s a bee in the house.”

To Spank or Not to Spank

eL. — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 17:07:37 +0000

In the paper this week was an article entitled “Southern Parents Spank Their Kids.” Really? THIS is news? Obviously these people haven’t been hanging around my house lately or this would never have made the front page of the paper. This is like a page four story around here. I am a firm believer in spanking. My kids RARELY EVER receive a spanking, but when they do it only has to happen once.

Tonight at the gym my Cirque Du Soliel-wannabe three year old decided to hide in a locker from his sister. He wanted to hide in the TOP locker about four feet off the ground. The conversation went something like this:

“Will, stop climbing on the lockers.” … “Will, get down right now.” … “WILL! How many times is Mommy supposed to ask you to do something?” … “Will, what happens when you disobey Mommy?”

He paused and looked back at me. “I get a spanking.” Like lightening, he was out of the locker and back on the floor.

A child in the dressing stall behind me gasped. Yeah, his mom was part of the 62% of Southerners too. That kid knew what a mommy-spanking meant.

Here’s my spanking disclaimer before someone gets their panties in a wad: Spankings and abuse should clearly be two different things. If that line ever gets fuzzy between an adult and a child then someone should intervene. Spankings should be rare and reserved for serious BEHAVIORAL offenses and never for accidents.

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On a lighter note… what about those moments when your children make it impossible to parent them? Here are a few real-life-of-eL. examples for your enjoyment.

I have the hardest time getting my son to eat at dinnertime. Bribery, threats, hours at the dinner table… nothing works. A few weeks ago I fixed spaghetti – a kid staple, right? The conversation with my son was the same. “Will, you may not get up from the table until you finish your dinner. If you don’t finish your dinner then you will have to go to bed.”

Forty five minutes later, I was folding laundry in the bedroom when my son entered the room. (Remember… HE’S THREE.) “Mom, I would rather go to bed AND have a spanking than have to eat my dinner.” I was dumbfounded. It was all I could do to not fall on the floor and laugh.

“Son, it’s spaghetti!”

He clamped his hand over his mouth. “I not wanna eat it.”

I dropped my head and pointed down the hall. “Go to bed.” By the time I caught up with him, he was in his bed with the light off and his blanket pulled over his head. Maybe I should take a cooking class?

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At our gym is a 50 gallon fish tank that my children are both fascinated with. Will can’t sit still to watch the fireworks show over the Magic Kingdom, but at that fish tank he will sit and stare for hours if I let him! Yesterday, while waiting for my Yoga class to begin, I let Will visit with the fish. He kept slapping his hands against the tank and yelling at the fish. “Will, stop doing that,” I told him.

“Why Mom?” he asked.

“Because you’ll scare the fish. Do you want to scare the fish?” I asked.

He pondered this for a moment and then looked up brightly. “Yes!”

Do you believe in spanking?

Do I not have the funniest kid on the planet???

Biting Your Toenails

eL. — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 06:16:13 +0000

Isn’t life supposed to calm down after you retire? I am now in week two of my “retirement” and if anything, I seem to have less time than when I was logging forty hours a week in my office. How is that possible? In the past fourteen days I have visited five states, caught up with umpteen family members, read a book, slacked off at the gym, watched about twenty movies, WORKED, and maintained a sparkling clean home. OK… the last part is a bit of stretch, but at the moment it is sparkling clean!

I always used to think I’d go crazy being bored at home as a full time mom. I realize now what a vacation my JOB really was! I take my fictitious hat off to all you stay at home parents out there. You certainly don’t get enough credit.

I have enjoyed the constant company of my kids far more than I could’ve ever imagined. You really should just be jealous because I simply have the funniest, cutest and smartest children ever conceived. They teach me so much about life and about the person I want to be. The lessons learned through the experience of children are absolutely priceless. There is no university that compares with parenthood.

Patience is a CHOICE. It is far easier to laugh and get over it, than it is to get upset.

No one snuggles better than a three year old.

If you want to know honestly how you are doing life, ask a preschooler their opinion of you.

You know to pass up your Food Network dream when your kid opts for a spanking and early bedtime rather than eat.

You should always keep your toenails short, even if it means biting them. You might trip over them if you don’t.

I’m sure there will be many more lessons to come… stay tuned. This could get interesting.

Shhhhhhhhhhht!

eL. — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 20:07:52 +0000

The older I get, the more I realize that I am quickly turning into my mother. While once upon a time I would’ve NEVER admitted this in writing or even thought it possible, today not only do I recognize it, I’m actually very proud of it. My mother loved and parented me well. I did not make her task easy (I know you’re shocked), but she played the hand she was dealt with grace and excellence. Today, we are close friends, seasoned with years of celebrations, heartaches, and challenges. I am proud to be her daughter, her baby, and her favorite child. (Yes, my siblings read my blog.)

We often parent our children in the manner in which we were parented. I almost fell in the floor the first time I heard myself say to my daughter, “Canaan, I know you didn’t mean to. You have to mean NOT to.” It was like all of the oxygen was sucked out of the room. Canaan panicked at my horror-stricken face after the words rolled off my tongue. I grasped at the hole in my chest where my heart had once been and choked out an explanation, “I’m sorry baby; I just channeled your Nana.”

This weekend while staying with my parents another ‘mom-ism’ escaped my lips. While chatting with a friend on Facebook, the internet connection blinked out for the fifteenth time during the conversation. I slammed my fist down onto the counter in frustration and shouted, “This cussed internet!”

A light bulb went off. (Apparently it visibly went off over my head because both my mom and my sister looked up at me.)

I brought my finger down over my lips as I pondered what I’d just said. “People in real life don’t use that expression. No one says ‘cussed’,” I thought out loud.

Mom began to laugh. “That’s what you say when you’re trying not to say a cuss word.”

Oh… bless my sweet Southern Baptist Mama’s heart.

I’m not sure what it is that is so funny about the combination of my mother and profanity. Maybe it was because it was always such a big deal in our family to keep our language clean and proper. Whenever she was REALLY frustrated about something she would hiss, “Shhhhhhhhht.” I didn’t realize until I was twenty that this was simply “shit” omitting the letter I. I laughed hysterically all alone in my apartment the day this occurred to me.

In our old age, Mom has graciously allowed herself to be the punch line of many family gathering jokes and has always a good sport about it.

Why do I write this tonight? My three year old son has a blister on his foot and when the bath water stung it earlier, he shouted, “Shoot-Fuzzies that hurt!”

Thanks Mom for three generations of sounding stupid.

Free To A Good Home

eL. — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 18:50:47 +0000

If you are my “real world” friend you will know that I use my cell phone for everything, including managing my shopping lists. Let me copy and paste for you my shopping list for today:

Bread
Milk
Cheese
Sausage
Tomato Sauce
Peanut Butter
Vodka… lots of Vodka
Ground Beef
Chicken
Yogurt

Now let me tell you about my day. It’s Saturday and it’s very cold and rainy. The weather man is calling for sleet tonight. Oh joy…. That means I have to let the dogs indoors. Great.

Before I begin, let me explain. I love my children. They are what makes my sun rise and set each day and I cannot imagine life without them. HOWEVER, today I almost slapped a “Free To A Good Home” sign on them and sent them to the curb.

It all began with, “Mom, I peed all over da bafroom.” That is never a good statement to wake up to early on a Saturday morning. These are moments that make me REALLY miss my husband. Due to obvious anatomical differences, I cannot properly teach my son how to correctly stand, point and go. Therefore I was up waaay before I wanted to be cleaning the kids’ bathroom floor, wall and bathtub. I’m still not sure how much of the mess was an accident rather than artistic expression.

I washed my hands and trudged back to bed.

I can see my kids playing in the living room from the comfort of my amazingly cozy bed and they were behaving, coloring on construction paper and watching cartoons. Then I hear my daughter. “Will, you’re in trouble… Mom!”

We have a brand new micro suede couch that I love. Or at least I loved it yesterday. Today it is covered in red Crayola marker. Will spent the next long while in timeout in his bed and I frantically Googled how to remove marker from suede. Forty five minutes later, I gave up on the bed and took a shower.

While in the shower, my five year old came in three different times asking me to spell my name, Will and Our Home. She was making a sign so everyone would know who lived in our house. When I got out of the shower a bright orange construction paper sign was GLUED to our living room wall. Isn’t that just adorable? L

The construction paper covered walls of my house began caving in and after I had made the aforementioned list, we headed off to Target with my sister. She laughed at my list and said, “I don’t think they sell vodka at Target.” Next, we made a stop at Kohl’s to coat shop. As I gave my sister my opinion on a coat that I will later go back and buy, my son disappeared. I had purposefully dressed him in a Tennessee orange jacket so he would be easy to keep track of. No orange jacket anywhere. Five full minutes of searching under every coat rack in the area ticked by with no sign of my kid. Frantic, I headed to the Service desk to put everyone on alert for a three foot pirate (he’s still wearing the hat) unsupervised in the enormous store. My sister continued the search and found him at the Hot Wheels aisle in the toy section in the back of the store. (Ernie, I blame you for this.)

After a fierce spanking and then hugging and tears, we headed home. My nerves were on edge and I put my son down for a nap and seriously eyed my bottle of Xanax by the sink.

Since naptime the kids have been watching some Scooby Pirate movie and five minutes ago Will decided to sword fight with the pirates on our new 42 inch LCD flat panel. L

I’m getting my tubes tied. Who wants to take me out for vodka to celebrate because of course I forgot to stop at the liquor store!?!