I've written before about my love/hate relationship with parks. Lately, we've been going to smaller, out-of-the-way parks and they are almost always empty. I love empty parks. But I will admit that I've found myself occasionally wishing for a few more kids. My boys love to run around with each other and play but they will be much more engaged in the park if other kids are there. They are less apt to come to me five minutes in and complain of being thirsty or tired.
So last Friday, I thought I would head to one of the big parks, hoping for a few kids to be there. I should have known that I would once again stumble upon a park that was in use by some sort of camp. There were kids everywhere. I was feeling leery of the whole thing but thought I would give it a try. The boys played well together and Caia was enjoying the baby swing. Overall, a good morning. And then the interactions with other children began and our good day took a turn.
The first was with a boy who was around the same age as my boys, three or four. I had noticed him earlier in the day when he ran up to the tire swing and climbed onto it despite the fact that another boy was already on it. His grandmother was tagging along and quietly told him that he needed to wait his turn but the other boy had already jumped off and said it was okay. He was on the tire swing for a few minutes and when he got down he wandered over towards where I was sitting on a blanket with Caia. The boys were right in front of me picking up rocks and when he walked over he said, "Get away from me," to them. His grandmother didn't hear him but I did. And, thankfully Jem and Truett just ignored him. He walked closer to them and, without even looking at them, said, "I don't want you near me. Get away from me." That time Grandma heard and gently scolded him for speaking that way to someone.
I had already decided that I didn't really want my boys near him so I asked them if they'd like to ride on the tire swing. As they started to climb on I saw the little boy turn towards us and start to run towards the tire swing. And in my head I was thinking, "Are you kidding me right now? There is no way I'm letting you on this swing with my kids after you just told them to get away from you." Thankfully, Grandma stopped him and told him that it wasn't his turn so I didn't have to be the horrible lady who doesn't put a kid on the tire swing. (I got to be that lady later but that is tomorrow's post) She walked away with him and he found someone else to be mean to.
Later, I watched as she dragged him out of the park by his arm while he kicked and screamed. I wasn't sorry to see him go.
I keep trying to write something and nothing is coming out right. Maybe it is the accumulative lack of sleep over the past several weeks (curse you NBC and your ridiculous Olympic coverage). Or maybe it is the stress of living in a new place, making meals without counter tops, boys who wake up at 6:30am, and still not being able to find one of my favorite pairs of shoes. Maybe it's that our computer crashed the other week and now I have to wait until Sam brings his laptop home to write my blog, which means waiting until the kids are in bed and all I want to do is sit on the couch and do nothing. Whatever it is, my brain is in full shut-down mode and I'm going to let go of the guilt and just let it be. So my apologies for the non-blog. Hopefully, next week will be better.
Did you ever give anyone the silent treatment? I remember being ignored by a girl I was friends with in junior high. We would be fine and then she would suddenly stop speaking to me. There was never any explanation. She would simply act as though I wasn't there. It would bother me and I would try to talk to her only to be ignored. Needless to say, our friendship didn't last past that year. I wasn't interested in giving someone that kind of power over me and I knew better than to stay in that kind of friendship.
So it is with trepidation that I admit that I pulled out my silent treatment skills this morning. It wasn't done to hurt someone. It was done to move my child towards obedience. I was hoping that it would succeed where other disciplinary tactics have failed. If there is one thing that Truett loves, it is being noticed and having attention so it seemed like a good way to go.
He has been struggling with getting dressed in the morning. He will ignore my directions and roll around on the floor or jump onto his bed. And if I leave the room to do something else, he screams and cries and throws himself on me, begging me to please stay with him. Yesterday I told him that I wasn't going to sit and wait for him; that he would have one shot to obey. I reminded him again this morning and he chose to take his time and not listen. So I walked out and told him that he could come downstairs and join the family once he was dressed.
What followed was a half hour of Truett screaming at me, hitting me, pushing over chairs and throwing himself onto me. I calmly peeled him off of me and ignored him while I fed Caia and ate my breakfast. It was not a pleasant 1/2 hour. Eventually, Truett wandered upstairs, got dressed, and came back down as though nothing had happened. We then had to go and have a talk about how he had behaved and then proceeded to have a good day together.
Did I make the right choice? I don't know. But that is the thing about being a mom. Most of the time, you are making it up as you go. I can borrow from the things my own mom did or talk to my friends about stuff but I'm the one dealing with it in the moment. And sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between a tactic that works and a tactic that works and helps to create better character in your child and in you. I will never use the silent treatment on my kids as a way to make them feel bad. But I won't allow my three-year old to set the pace for my day. It is a rough road and I can only do my best and trust God to cover my failings.
Before I had kids, January and February were tied for being my least favorite months of the year. They were both so dreary and cold. Plus, there were barely any holidays to speak of, so days off were few and far between. They seemed to just drag on.
But now that I've had kids, August has definitely taken over as my least favorite month. The summer is winding down. The kids are over the novelty of being able to go to a park every day. They aren't as enthralled with their bikes or blowing bubbles or sidewalk chalk. But it is either too early or too late for anything else. Most VBS programs happen in June or early July. School won't start until after Labor Day. It just seems like there is nothing going on in August which means I feel like I'm going to go crazy. And the new house doesn't help. It still feels like a new house. I sort of feel like a squatter, with my card tables set up in the kitchen and boxes stacked in the living room. There is that feeling of upheaval.
So yeah, August isn't shaping up to be super great right now. But September will bring the start of preschool so it is quickly moving up in the ranks as one of my favorite months. Three cheers for September.
I took the kids over to a park today to play. When we got there, the boys were delighted to see a large tractor out mowing the field next to the park. They are in love with tractors. They watched for a while and then set to work on playing. I pushed them on the swings, running back and forth between Caia in her baby swing and the boys on the regular swings. (They haven't quite mastered the art of pumping their legs yet.) They climbed on the equipment and raced down the slides. And, after I had spread out a blanket in the grass for Caia to sit on, they asked me to chase them around. In truth, I just wanted to pull out my book and sit down for a few minutes. But I hoisted myself up and we ran around in the grass. At one point, while I was sitting in the grass being tackled, I looked up to see the man who had been driving the tractor approaching us. He looked every bit the farmer. Dark, tan skin creased by weather and age. A John Deere hat, t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and dark jeans. I thought that he was maybe stopping for a drink but then he walked right over and asked me if I was "babysitter or mom?" I told him that I was Mom and he took a step back and said, "Wow! I'm just amazed that you are playing with your kids. Where do you find the energy? That's just fantastic." I assured him that it wasn't this way everyday. He told me that he rarely sees moms playing with their children and that he had been watching us as he mowed the grass and wanted to come and tell me that I'm doing a great job. He then walked back to his tractor and finished his work.
As I sat there I was thinking that if he only knew that I really wanted to read a book, he wouldn't have come over. Or that he simply caught me on a good day. But then I decided to simply take it at face value and accept the gift of his words. He went out of his way to come over to me and encourage me. And he didn't know me. It wasn't a relative or good friend telling me that I'm doing a great job and helping me to push on. This was a stranger who saw value in me rolling around in the grass with my kids. I know a gift when I see one and that was a gift.
When I was 2 1/2 my parents packed up everything and moved us from Michigan to Pennsylvania. There had been a few rough years on the farm and the debt was too big to overcome. So they threw all of our belongings into a moving van and the pickup truck and drove over 8 hours to a completely new place. There was no family waiting to help them unload. No friends to bring over meals.
Just this past Saturday, Sam and I moved 20 minutes across town. We had family and friends helping us pack and unpack. We had lunch brought to us. We had someone caring for our kids and it was still completely and utterly exhausting. I can't imagine doing what my parents did. I think my brain would shut off.
So yes, we have officially moved into our new house. My mom came over on Friday and helped me pack up our belongings. Then on Saturday, while Sam and a crew of awesome guys loaded everything into vans and trucks and brought it over, my mom and my sister-in-law helped me organize the chaos at the new house.
Everything was out of the old house and into the new house by noon. It was a super efficient and went better than anticipated. Don't misunderstand me though. There are still boxes everywhere. I can't find the majority of my shoes or our new bedsheets. I still don't know which light switch works which light and we don't have any curtains up which means that I have to be very careful about where I walk when I'm in my jammies. My fridge is in the garage and my beautiful breakfront that is supposed to be displaying wine glasses and china is now filled with canned goods. The next few weeks will be a good lesson for me on going with the flow which apparently I need.
I don't follow any blogs. I barely have time to get mine written, let alone sit down and read other ones. But every once in a while, someone will tell me about something they read on so-and-so's blog and how great it was and I decide to check it out. And that is usually when the envy begins. Maybe their blog has pretty pictures or a nice set-up. Maybe it has an intriguing name. But usually the envy has to do with the content or the style of writing. There are some great blogs out there. People writing about life and doing it in a way that touches your heart and challenges you and brings a tear to your eye. And I can't help but compare my writing, my subjects, to theirs. I will read a blog written by a mother who is facing similar challenges to me but the way she words it makes it sound so inspiring. Or I will read someone's take on our culture's obsession with appearance and it will make me feel so silly for rewriting "My Favorite Things." I will start to worry that my writing isn't up to par or that I should be more eloquent and less off-the-cuff.
Thankfully, the envy doesn't last. I remind myself that different doesn't mean better and that people respond to different styles of writing. So I've decided that instead of wallowing in my blog envy, I'm going to turn it into praise. Now, when I run across a blog that inspires me or challenges me, I'm going to give it a shout-out so that other people can benefit from it.
My very first shout-out is for the ladies. I read this gal's take on skinny jeans and I was so thankful for the reminder that I don't have to choose society's definition of beauty. I don't have to measure myself by their standards. So, if you have a spare moment, take a look at this blog post. Hopefully you will find something in it that speaks to you.
http://redefiningfemale.wordpress.com/2012/08/06/the-battle-we-find-ourselves-in/
