"It hurt me a hundred times extra", Ilan said to me this morning as he began to describe WHY his injury from last night was worse than your typical injury. "I landed here and here," as he pointed to the side of his thigh and his face, "but because of the power of the aggressor (his friend, Ben) and the way I landed (he demonstrated) and how fast I was moving, it was 100 times worse."
Prior to the injury, as the boys were deciding the rules for this wrestling/fighting/swording game, my friend Susie and I continuously said "stop/no good/bad choice/etc" and then shrugged and waited for the injured party to arrive. As it turned out, it was Ilan, the oldest of the bunch.
As Ilan went on to describe the scene at the injury, the other people involved... etc - his words melted together and all I heard (loud and clear) was "VELOCITY times FORCE times ACCELERATION = INJURY TIMES A HUNDRED."
WHAT? How does this little six year old brain think of these things? The detail. The description. The thought behind what happened. Behind Ilan's voice was the ringing of my husband's - his deep understanding of everything and his ability to describe it all to anyone who will listen, his curiosity and need to search for the answer to every question asked, down to the pickiest detail, and about stuff that makes you turn your head and ask "You think about that? How did you even know to think about that?"
Aaaah, the things I'm going to learn as we go deeper into the year of first grade.
August 21, 2007
August 12, 2007
Life Lessons in Laundry
One "surefire" (according to the rules of motherhood) way to get things done around the house is to involve your children. I decided to test this theory the other day with my almost five year old. I had many baskets of laundry to fold.
We set out folding laundry, and I passed him the dish towels which he would fold into rectangles and then squares. I was surprisingly impressed with his work. But, then he eyed the bed sheets. "I want to fold those", he stated - no fear in his voice (personally, I'm terrified of the sheets, especially the fitted ones).
I decided to give him a shot at it. He was so thrilled with his results, he wanted to fold another... and another.... and another. I started calculating how much time it would take me to refold the sheets, how much time I had just wasted inviting my child to participate in this folding task with me and when I'd be able to refold the sheets so Aaron wouldn't observe me doing it.
And, then, I stopped. Who really cares about wrinkled sheets, or clothing, for that matter? (except my husband) They just wrinkle back up when you sit in your car for 20 minutes in the 100+ degree heat in Arizona.... so what does it matter if you put them on already wrinkled? In my book, that's a time saver! Likewise, with sheets. I'm just going to stretch them across the bed anyways. They'll straighten out then. As long as I can put the abstractly folded sheets onto the shelf in the closet where they belong without taking up space from some other towels, sheets or extra piece of clothes' property - it will be ok.
I smiled at Aaron and thanked him for folding laundry with me (and silently thanked him for another important life lesson), and we carried the basket of laundry reciting "teamwork" as we headed to the linen closet to put it all away.
We set out folding laundry, and I passed him the dish towels which he would fold into rectangles and then squares. I was surprisingly impressed with his work. But, then he eyed the bed sheets. "I want to fold those", he stated - no fear in his voice (personally, I'm terrified of the sheets, especially the fitted ones).
I decided to give him a shot at it. He was so thrilled with his results, he wanted to fold another... and another.... and another. I started calculating how much time it would take me to refold the sheets, how much time I had just wasted inviting my child to participate in this folding task with me and when I'd be able to refold the sheets so Aaron wouldn't observe me doing it.
And, then, I stopped. Who really cares about wrinkled sheets, or clothing, for that matter? (except my husband) They just wrinkle back up when you sit in your car for 20 minutes in the 100+ degree heat in Arizona.... so what does it matter if you put them on already wrinkled? In my book, that's a time saver! Likewise, with sheets. I'm just going to stretch them across the bed anyways. They'll straighten out then. As long as I can put the abstractly folded sheets onto the shelf in the closet where they belong without taking up space from some other towels, sheets or extra piece of clothes' property - it will be ok.
I smiled at Aaron and thanked him for folding laundry with me (and silently thanked him for another important life lesson), and we carried the basket of laundry reciting "teamwork" as we headed to the linen closet to put it all away.
June 25, 2007
continuation
So, I discovered this afternoon that Aaron has the same cry when he gets hurt as he has when you know he is not really hurt but he's freaking out anyways. I discovered this when he received a blood dripping dent in his forehead after ramming it into the door knob while chasing Ilan and Isaac.
Shortly thereafter, Jeff, our swimming teacher arrived and - believe it or not - it was another cocky moment in motherhood. I was changing Ellie's diaper, waiting for him to ring the bell. I noticed poop in her shorts - how did that get there? It must have been left over from this morning. Did I mention changing a poopy diaper during my first shift? A few minutes afterwards, I still smelled something. I lifted her up, smelled her, couldn't find the source anywhere. When I got up from the floor, I noticed poop on my foot, my pants, the carpet.... I'm still not sure what happened.
When Jeff arrived, only one of three was eager to go swimming. After the first one went in the pool, the other two wanted to go in too. So, instead of taking turns like they normally do, we took advantage of the (rare) moment. I quickly put Ellie down for a nap, and she went to sleep this time. One might think a mother could have 60 minutes to catch up on dishes, dirty tables, pajamas still lying around, the laundry in the dryer - on the dryer - and waiting to go in the dryer - but, no, I played secondary lifeguard.
It was well worth the hour. To see my children - two of whom have hated the water since they were six months old - enjoying themselves was pure ecstasy. Ilan was the worst of them. He hated baths as well as the pool, and here he was going off the diving board and swimming - really swimming - to the side. Aaron was the stubborn a** who, unless he could do what he wanted - play on the raft - would cry and whine and scream for 30 minutes straight. He was diving off the side of the pool - like a leaping bat all spread out - splashing into the pool and swimming back to the stairs. Then there was Isaac, who I haven't even pushed into swimming lessons yet because I want him to enjoy the pool. He decided he wanted to swim - with Jeff - today. He was jumping off the side into Jeff's arms. He was putting his face in the water and blowing bubbles. He was playing on the stairs, having a blast. Jeff bounced back and forth between them and I bounced wherever he wasn't, running inside to get shoes for my burning feet and a camera so their Daddy could see them when he got home tonight (did I mention he is out of town?).
Swimming ended. Ellie was sleeping. Bathing suits came off, clothes went on, snacks were had. Minutes later, I decided we would take Ilan to his karate class. I put everyone in the car without their shoes on, told Ilan to get in his karate uniform and, at the last minute, woke Ellie. We went to karate, three of them staying in the car and watching a movie on the VCR my brother-in-law won at a charity auction and kindly gave to us to install in our car. Karate lasts an hour. Now, we're home. They already ate dinner (it's 5:33pm). They are playing. I am typing and Ellie is in the saucer whining because it's time for her to go to sleep.
I put Ellie down, get everyone else in pajamas, watch as they play in the bounce house that now occupies my bedroom. We bought it when Aaron was younger thinking it would help to release some of his energy. They bounce. I create a meal plan for Friday night when we always have a dinner and usually have guests. I put Isaac to sleep. Ilan and Aaron take turns on Club Penguin (moms of young children - check it out - a great website for young children www.clubpenguin.com). Ilan and Aaron go to sleep. Aaron comes out of his room to give me his worries he forgot to give me. Ilan comes out of his room to get cold, cold, very cold water. Aaron comes out to ask how many hours until morning. Ilan comes out to ask why the sun is still out if it's night time. I warm up leftovers for dinner. I'm ready for bed.
I turn around and notice the pile creeping over the edge of my sink. My dishwasher is clean and I have to unload in order to re-load. I see the shoes on the floor, the pile of swim suits and towels, the three baskets of laundry waiting to be folded, the toys spread out on my bedroom floor from the last half hour of the day (I am always amazed at how quickly a clean room can be destroyed - even when under supervision). I check the clock. I need to get some sleep before I have to wake up with Ellie.
Oooops, I hear somebody crying. Gotta go!
Shortly thereafter, Jeff, our swimming teacher arrived and - believe it or not - it was another cocky moment in motherhood. I was changing Ellie's diaper, waiting for him to ring the bell. I noticed poop in her shorts - how did that get there? It must have been left over from this morning. Did I mention changing a poopy diaper during my first shift? A few minutes afterwards, I still smelled something. I lifted her up, smelled her, couldn't find the source anywhere. When I got up from the floor, I noticed poop on my foot, my pants, the carpet.... I'm still not sure what happened.
When Jeff arrived, only one of three was eager to go swimming. After the first one went in the pool, the other two wanted to go in too. So, instead of taking turns like they normally do, we took advantage of the (rare) moment. I quickly put Ellie down for a nap, and she went to sleep this time. One might think a mother could have 60 minutes to catch up on dishes, dirty tables, pajamas still lying around, the laundry in the dryer - on the dryer - and waiting to go in the dryer - but, no, I played secondary lifeguard.
It was well worth the hour. To see my children - two of whom have hated the water since they were six months old - enjoying themselves was pure ecstasy. Ilan was the worst of them. He hated baths as well as the pool, and here he was going off the diving board and swimming - really swimming - to the side. Aaron was the stubborn a** who, unless he could do what he wanted - play on the raft - would cry and whine and scream for 30 minutes straight. He was diving off the side of the pool - like a leaping bat all spread out - splashing into the pool and swimming back to the stairs. Then there was Isaac, who I haven't even pushed into swimming lessons yet because I want him to enjoy the pool. He decided he wanted to swim - with Jeff - today. He was jumping off the side into Jeff's arms. He was putting his face in the water and blowing bubbles. He was playing on the stairs, having a blast. Jeff bounced back and forth between them and I bounced wherever he wasn't, running inside to get shoes for my burning feet and a camera so their Daddy could see them when he got home tonight (did I mention he is out of town?).
Swimming ended. Ellie was sleeping. Bathing suits came off, clothes went on, snacks were had. Minutes later, I decided we would take Ilan to his karate class. I put everyone in the car without their shoes on, told Ilan to get in his karate uniform and, at the last minute, woke Ellie. We went to karate, three of them staying in the car and watching a movie on the VCR my brother-in-law won at a charity auction and kindly gave to us to install in our car. Karate lasts an hour. Now, we're home. They already ate dinner (it's 5:33pm). They are playing. I am typing and Ellie is in the saucer whining because it's time for her to go to sleep.
I put Ellie down, get everyone else in pajamas, watch as they play in the bounce house that now occupies my bedroom. We bought it when Aaron was younger thinking it would help to release some of his energy. They bounce. I create a meal plan for Friday night when we always have a dinner and usually have guests. I put Isaac to sleep. Ilan and Aaron take turns on Club Penguin (moms of young children - check it out - a great website for young children www.clubpenguin.com). Ilan and Aaron go to sleep. Aaron comes out of his room to give me his worries he forgot to give me. Ilan comes out of his room to get cold, cold, very cold water. Aaron comes out to ask how many hours until morning. Ilan comes out to ask why the sun is still out if it's night time. I warm up leftovers for dinner. I'm ready for bed.
I turn around and notice the pile creeping over the edge of my sink. My dishwasher is clean and I have to unload in order to re-load. I see the shoes on the floor, the pile of swim suits and towels, the three baskets of laundry waiting to be folded, the toys spread out on my bedroom floor from the last half hour of the day (I am always amazed at how quickly a clean room can be destroyed - even when under supervision). I check the clock. I need to get some sleep before I have to wake up with Ellie.
Oooops, I hear somebody crying. Gotta go!
Aaaaaah, retirement!
I had an immense realization today. I always feel guilty when I look to my husband for some empathy toward my incredibly busy day. After all, he has worked all day too, and his days are packed with meetings, deadlines, and competitive pressures.
But, today, I realized my husband does not have to roll out of bed whenever his eight-month old daughter dictates it is time to get up. He doesn't have to prepare a bottle with eyes half open from a Zyrtec hangover (it only took me three weeks on the medication to realize it wipes me out through the morning because I'm taking it too late at night). He doesn't have to pile four children into the car (after making sure they are all dressed and fed) to take one child to camp by 8 o'clock in the morning (he's probably just leaving the house by then).
But, wait! There's more. The day is only 1/5 over with. The baby falls asleep on the way to camp drop off, and I cringe as I have to put her in the stroller and wake her up just for a 3 minute walk upstairs to drop off our camper. We're back in the car before 8 minutes have passed (it takes longer to get the two little ones in and out of the stroller). We drive home, take three children out of the car, change two diapers, cut one child's long nails, make a call to try and change the appointment for the allergy doctor, change the laundry, pop in at the computer while the children are occupied with.... TV (I admit it), and pack up to leave for the next adventure. This took 45 minutes.
I made an executive decision. We would leave early, so Ellie (the baby) could fall asleep again and have a half hour nap. By the time we got in the car, it wasn't early anymore but Ellie didn't fall asleep anyways. Arriving at class, I set Ellie on the side in her stroller with some toys she could chew on. Aaron immediately put his headphones on and began playing games on the Leapster he was allowed to bring.
I have to say - the class went smoothly. Aaron stayed occupied except for when he became tangled in the wire of the headphones. Ellie needed the usual constant attention of giving her the toy she threw on the ground, changing the toys every now and then so she wouldn't get bored, and stopping once to give her something to drink. I remembered my one and only rule: "Don't get cocky!" I didn't let it get to my head.
But, I seriously doubt that my husband lays his daughter down his legs to change her diaper while the car cools off from the Arizona heat (we were in the shade). Isaac had his shirt off because he started chewing on it during class so I took my spare shirt, put it on him, yanked down his pants and changed his diaper, and set him in the car with two waters (he must have two of everything) and a piece of soy cheese. Aaron buckled himself into the back seat and I gave him his water and his... oh, no... where did his granola bar go? Well, Aaron got to choose between soy cheese and Gerber puffs. He chose the latter. It was 11:20, almost an hour past Ellie's usual lunch time. We had ten minutes before we had to leave (the parking lot) to get Ilan.
My car was still running. I fed Ellie a jar of sweet potatoes, a half jar of pears and mangoes and gave her a bottle. We left the parking lot to get Ilan at camp.
I pulled up to get Ilan, preparing to put Ellie and Isaac back in the stroller, ration out the "who gets to push the buttons on the elevator and automatic doors" and deal with the crying as I left Isaac in the hallway to step inside the room to get Ilan. Isaac and Ellie were asleep. Does that surprise you? I didn't want to disrupt HER nap AGAIN, nor did I want to deprive my stereotypical, crabby without a nap two-year old. I called the community college who put me through to continuing education, the department running the camp.
Just this once, they said, we will go and get your child for you. I stepped outside my car to wait, standing in the Arizona heat because I felt guilty someone else had to pick up my son for me. It seemed like forever but they finally came.
We left, returning home with the angst of wonder whether or not my sleeping babes would remain sleeping. Well, Ellie awoke during the ride home. Isaac stirred when I transferred him but I put him in bed anyways. I went to give Ellie a bottle and put her in her crib, hoping she'd go back down for a decent chunk of sleep. Then, I went back to the car to get Ilan's projects from science camp, our bag of food and drinks from the morning, and my diaper bag which can no longer be left in the car as usual because the wipes get dried out. Do you think it takes my husband this long or this many trips to get out of his car during the day at work? Nooooo... actually, he stays in the office all day. His food is catered by his company. He gets to work through lunch - just like I do.
I decided I was going to have lunch and have it in front of my computer. I quickly made lunch for Ilan and Aaron and told them they could sit at the table in the playroom and watch a show while they ate (oy!). I quickly made my lunch to the sound of .... screaming.... two children screaming. Neither Isaac nor Ellie were asleep. I did what any good mother would do - I turned off their monitors and went into my office with lunch in hand. I was going to grab five minutes to myself, no matter how long it took me!
Now, they are all up. Ellie is whining on the floor next to me while I finish typing. Isaac is sitting on the couch - sounds like he turned the TV on by himself (he's two). Ilan is getting his bathing suit on for his swim lesson (for which we will put the sun screen on the minute the swim teacher rings the bell), and Aaron is probably hiding under my bed in order to avoid his swim lesson.
My salad bowl from lunch is in the sink, the tomato is on the counter, the boys' plates are still in the playroom. I will regret this later on when I am "behind" in my rhythm and I have to catch up. But, right now, it's time to focus on swimming - Isaac crying because he wants to swim but not with Jeff, Ilan thinking he's good enough to be on a swim team and trying to get Jeff to teach him the things he think he should know, and Aaron whining about swimming until the second he gets into the pool... oh, yeah. And, I forgot about Ellie - who is now so incredibly tired but it's too late for a nap since she goes down for the night at 5.
Our day is about 1/3 over. If you want to hear about the other 2/3's, you'll have to check back later. Of COURSE, there are some details left out of the morning shift. I didn't want to bore you to DEATH.... just to retirement. Aaaaah, retirement.
But, today, I realized my husband does not have to roll out of bed whenever his eight-month old daughter dictates it is time to get up. He doesn't have to prepare a bottle with eyes half open from a Zyrtec hangover (it only took me three weeks on the medication to realize it wipes me out through the morning because I'm taking it too late at night). He doesn't have to pile four children into the car (after making sure they are all dressed and fed) to take one child to camp by 8 o'clock in the morning (he's probably just leaving the house by then).
But, wait! There's more. The day is only 1/5 over with. The baby falls asleep on the way to camp drop off, and I cringe as I have to put her in the stroller and wake her up just for a 3 minute walk upstairs to drop off our camper. We're back in the car before 8 minutes have passed (it takes longer to get the two little ones in and out of the stroller). We drive home, take three children out of the car, change two diapers, cut one child's long nails, make a call to try and change the appointment for the allergy doctor, change the laundry, pop in at the computer while the children are occupied with.... TV (I admit it), and pack up to leave for the next adventure. This took 45 minutes.
I made an executive decision. We would leave early, so Ellie (the baby) could fall asleep again and have a half hour nap. By the time we got in the car, it wasn't early anymore but Ellie didn't fall asleep anyways. Arriving at class, I set Ellie on the side in her stroller with some toys she could chew on. Aaron immediately put his headphones on and began playing games on the Leapster he was allowed to bring.
I have to say - the class went smoothly. Aaron stayed occupied except for when he became tangled in the wire of the headphones. Ellie needed the usual constant attention of giving her the toy she threw on the ground, changing the toys every now and then so she wouldn't get bored, and stopping once to give her something to drink. I remembered my one and only rule: "Don't get cocky!" I didn't let it get to my head.
But, I seriously doubt that my husband lays his daughter down his legs to change her diaper while the car cools off from the Arizona heat (we were in the shade). Isaac had his shirt off because he started chewing on it during class so I took my spare shirt, put it on him, yanked down his pants and changed his diaper, and set him in the car with two waters (he must have two of everything) and a piece of soy cheese. Aaron buckled himself into the back seat and I gave him his water and his... oh, no... where did his granola bar go? Well, Aaron got to choose between soy cheese and Gerber puffs. He chose the latter. It was 11:20, almost an hour past Ellie's usual lunch time. We had ten minutes before we had to leave (the parking lot) to get Ilan.
My car was still running. I fed Ellie a jar of sweet potatoes, a half jar of pears and mangoes and gave her a bottle. We left the parking lot to get Ilan at camp.
I pulled up to get Ilan, preparing to put Ellie and Isaac back in the stroller, ration out the "who gets to push the buttons on the elevator and automatic doors" and deal with the crying as I left Isaac in the hallway to step inside the room to get Ilan. Isaac and Ellie were asleep. Does that surprise you? I didn't want to disrupt HER nap AGAIN, nor did I want to deprive my stereotypical, crabby without a nap two-year old. I called the community college who put me through to continuing education, the department running the camp.
Just this once, they said, we will go and get your child for you. I stepped outside my car to wait, standing in the Arizona heat because I felt guilty someone else had to pick up my son for me. It seemed like forever but they finally came.
We left, returning home with the angst of wonder whether or not my sleeping babes would remain sleeping. Well, Ellie awoke during the ride home. Isaac stirred when I transferred him but I put him in bed anyways. I went to give Ellie a bottle and put her in her crib, hoping she'd go back down for a decent chunk of sleep. Then, I went back to the car to get Ilan's projects from science camp, our bag of food and drinks from the morning, and my diaper bag which can no longer be left in the car as usual because the wipes get dried out. Do you think it takes my husband this long or this many trips to get out of his car during the day at work? Nooooo... actually, he stays in the office all day. His food is catered by his company. He gets to work through lunch - just like I do.
I decided I was going to have lunch and have it in front of my computer. I quickly made lunch for Ilan and Aaron and told them they could sit at the table in the playroom and watch a show while they ate (oy!). I quickly made my lunch to the sound of .... screaming.... two children screaming. Neither Isaac nor Ellie were asleep. I did what any good mother would do - I turned off their monitors and went into my office with lunch in hand. I was going to grab five minutes to myself, no matter how long it took me!
Now, they are all up. Ellie is whining on the floor next to me while I finish typing. Isaac is sitting on the couch - sounds like he turned the TV on by himself (he's two). Ilan is getting his bathing suit on for his swim lesson (for which we will put the sun screen on the minute the swim teacher rings the bell), and Aaron is probably hiding under my bed in order to avoid his swim lesson.
My salad bowl from lunch is in the sink, the tomato is on the counter, the boys' plates are still in the playroom. I will regret this later on when I am "behind" in my rhythm and I have to catch up. But, right now, it's time to focus on swimming - Isaac crying because he wants to swim but not with Jeff, Ilan thinking he's good enough to be on a swim team and trying to get Jeff to teach him the things he think he should know, and Aaron whining about swimming until the second he gets into the pool... oh, yeah. And, I forgot about Ellie - who is now so incredibly tired but it's too late for a nap since she goes down for the night at 5.
Our day is about 1/3 over. If you want to hear about the other 2/3's, you'll have to check back later. Of COURSE, there are some details left out of the morning shift. I didn't want to bore you to DEATH.... just to retirement. Aaaaah, retirement.
June 18, 2007
Does every little second really matter?
How overboard am I going? With four children six and under in our house, I am constantly moving ~ I never walk through the house without something in my hands. "As long as I'm doing something, I'm getting it done." - that's what I always say.
I enjoy collecting organizing tips, learning how busy moms efficiently arrange their days, and discovering tricks for a smooth running life. Recently, at Get Organized Now (on the web), I read a reader tip for decreasing the time it takes to unload the dishwasher. This woman puts spoons in one section of the silverware holder, knives in another and forks in another. That way, when it's time to unload, she grabs the whole section and puts it away.
At first I thought that was a great idea. When I actually tried it, I realized I did not have enough sections in my dishwasher basket for proper categorization. Nor are the seconds saved (approximately 23) worth the effort of remembering and training yourself and the other members in your family to follow suit.
On the other hand, I know - having set my microwave oven for 40 seconds and then running around to accomplish as much as I possibly could in those forty seconds, that I could change a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, turn off the running water that someone left running in the bathroom, run across the house to make sure my 8-month old who is sitting in the middle of my bed still hasn't learned how to roll over and grab a beverage to go with the bag of popcorn I just popped all before the timer goes off.
If you save 23 seconds at least once a day, that would be nearly 3 minutes per week or 12 minutes per month or an hour and forty-five minutes each year. Do you know what I could accomplish in an hour and forty-five minutes?
I enjoy collecting organizing tips, learning how busy moms efficiently arrange their days, and discovering tricks for a smooth running life. Recently, at Get Organized Now (on the web), I read a reader tip for decreasing the time it takes to unload the dishwasher. This woman puts spoons in one section of the silverware holder, knives in another and forks in another. That way, when it's time to unload, she grabs the whole section and puts it away.
At first I thought that was a great idea. When I actually tried it, I realized I did not have enough sections in my dishwasher basket for proper categorization. Nor are the seconds saved (approximately 23) worth the effort of remembering and training yourself and the other members in your family to follow suit.
On the other hand, I know - having set my microwave oven for 40 seconds and then running around to accomplish as much as I possibly could in those forty seconds, that I could change a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, turn off the running water that someone left running in the bathroom, run across the house to make sure my 8-month old who is sitting in the middle of my bed still hasn't learned how to roll over and grab a beverage to go with the bag of popcorn I just popped all before the timer goes off.
If you save 23 seconds at least once a day, that would be nearly 3 minutes per week or 12 minutes per month or an hour and forty-five minutes each year. Do you know what I could accomplish in an hour and forty-five minutes?
February 8, 2007
CRISIS (a la) MODE
I don't know how they do it. Three out of our four children should be exhausted today, and - yet - they won't take naps. Isaac (almost 20 months) had a hard time falling asleep last night. It was after 9:00 before he finally settled down. His night time routine normally starts by 6:30, but because he had taken an extra long nap, we didn't start bedtime until 7:00. Still, by 9:00, he should have been sound asleep. Instead, I was rocking and singing to him for the third time that night.
Eliana (4 months) also should have been sleeping earlier than she was. She usually falls asleep between 5:00 and 8:00 and stays asleep for 6-8 hours. Instead, I was bouncing between her and Isaac. Nursing Eliana and singing to Isaac, nursing Eliana and rocking Isaac. Putting one down and running across the house to the other one. Once she was down, she only gave me 4 hours, so I was nursing her more than usual throughout the night.
And, then there's Ilan (5 1/2 years old). He went to sleep with a nasty cough. He came out of his room SEVERAL times. His neck hurt. His stomach hurt. He had a scratch on his back. He needed "cold, cold, very cold water". We, my husband and I, were getting fed up, despite the fact that Ilan did not feel good. He finally fell asleep and when I went to check on him, I heard a terrible wheeze - in his chest.
Having grown up with an asthma allergy, I knew that sound. I hated that sound. I knew what it felt like inside - besides having difficulty taking your breath, you shut down. The little whimpering noises he was making were all too familiar. His inability to fall asleep now made sense. He just didn't know what was going on in his body to tell us. Your head is kind of in a spin. You don't feel right.
I woke him up (as best I could) and told him to cough. It didn't get better. I had David (my husband) move Ilan to our bed so we could "listen" to him all night. I knew that probably meant no sleep for me as listening to wheezing was not a pleasant experience for me.
Around midnight, Ilan woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. He was coughing and we were trying to hush him. Eliana still sleeps in our room. Oh yeah... and Aaron (four years old) was in our bed by now also. He was a fairly quick wake up and fall back asleep but he was still taking up space in our bed and was another child to worry about waking.
I took Ilan to the bathroom to steam him - the first step to stopping an asthma attack when I was a child. It didn't help and he wanted to get up off the bathroom floor where I had made him a nice "comfortable" sleeping spot, hoping he'd just fall asleep there. I took him into our back room and propped him up on the couch with blankets and pillows. I laid down on the floor with the pillow from my room, a necessity for sleeping. But, there was no sleep. He couldn't stop coughing. He couldn't stop wheezing. He wanted to go to the doctor.
I woke David and we quickly figured out he would have to take Ilan to the emergency room since I had to be available to nurse Eliana. At 4:00am, they left. At 8:00am, they returned. I had nursed twice while they were gone, responded to Aaron waking up and falling back asleep and getting Isaac at 7:00 when he woke up. Ilan had a nebulizer treatment to help him breathe. He needed it every two hours for the first four hours and then every four hours after that. Problem was, at the time of the first treatment, we were going to be at the doctor's office for Ellie's four month WELL check.
I loaded Eliana, Isaac, Ilan and the nebulizer in the car. I forgot to bring the prescription amount. I forgot to bring my cell phone. Isaac pooped in the doctor's office. I left his diapers in the car because I figured I wouldn't need them. I decided to wait until we got home to give Ilan his treatment. Once we were in the doctor's office, Eliana peed after being weighed and before I put her new diaper on. The table and crinkly paper was all wet. I didn't have dry clothes. Isaac's poop smelled. Eliana had four shots. Ilan's treatment was an hour late.
I thought when we got home, everyone would be ready for a nap. I was. I was the only one. This is crisis mode, I thought. I am exhausted. How can they not be exhausted? How can they not just pass out? I nursed Eliana about four times before she finally fell asleep (in her swing). I gave up on Isaac's nap and gathered my energy (what energy?) for dealing with his EXTREME crabbiness. Ilan lay on the couch - ready to pass out at any minute but refusing to give in - for hours.
I went and got some ice cream from the freezer. CRISIS a la MODE.
Eliana (4 months) also should have been sleeping earlier than she was. She usually falls asleep between 5:00 and 8:00 and stays asleep for 6-8 hours. Instead, I was bouncing between her and Isaac. Nursing Eliana and singing to Isaac, nursing Eliana and rocking Isaac. Putting one down and running across the house to the other one. Once she was down, she only gave me 4 hours, so I was nursing her more than usual throughout the night.
And, then there's Ilan (5 1/2 years old). He went to sleep with a nasty cough. He came out of his room SEVERAL times. His neck hurt. His stomach hurt. He had a scratch on his back. He needed "cold, cold, very cold water". We, my husband and I, were getting fed up, despite the fact that Ilan did not feel good. He finally fell asleep and when I went to check on him, I heard a terrible wheeze - in his chest.
Having grown up with an asthma allergy, I knew that sound. I hated that sound. I knew what it felt like inside - besides having difficulty taking your breath, you shut down. The little whimpering noises he was making were all too familiar. His inability to fall asleep now made sense. He just didn't know what was going on in his body to tell us. Your head is kind of in a spin. You don't feel right.
I woke him up (as best I could) and told him to cough. It didn't get better. I had David (my husband) move Ilan to our bed so we could "listen" to him all night. I knew that probably meant no sleep for me as listening to wheezing was not a pleasant experience for me.
Around midnight, Ilan woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. He was coughing and we were trying to hush him. Eliana still sleeps in our room. Oh yeah... and Aaron (four years old) was in our bed by now also. He was a fairly quick wake up and fall back asleep but he was still taking up space in our bed and was another child to worry about waking.
I took Ilan to the bathroom to steam him - the first step to stopping an asthma attack when I was a child. It didn't help and he wanted to get up off the bathroom floor where I had made him a nice "comfortable" sleeping spot, hoping he'd just fall asleep there. I took him into our back room and propped him up on the couch with blankets and pillows. I laid down on the floor with the pillow from my room, a necessity for sleeping. But, there was no sleep. He couldn't stop coughing. He couldn't stop wheezing. He wanted to go to the doctor.
I woke David and we quickly figured out he would have to take Ilan to the emergency room since I had to be available to nurse Eliana. At 4:00am, they left. At 8:00am, they returned. I had nursed twice while they were gone, responded to Aaron waking up and falling back asleep and getting Isaac at 7:00 when he woke up. Ilan had a nebulizer treatment to help him breathe. He needed it every two hours for the first four hours and then every four hours after that. Problem was, at the time of the first treatment, we were going to be at the doctor's office for Ellie's four month WELL check.
I loaded Eliana, Isaac, Ilan and the nebulizer in the car. I forgot to bring the prescription amount. I forgot to bring my cell phone. Isaac pooped in the doctor's office. I left his diapers in the car because I figured I wouldn't need them. I decided to wait until we got home to give Ilan his treatment. Once we were in the doctor's office, Eliana peed after being weighed and before I put her new diaper on. The table and crinkly paper was all wet. I didn't have dry clothes. Isaac's poop smelled. Eliana had four shots. Ilan's treatment was an hour late.
I thought when we got home, everyone would be ready for a nap. I was. I was the only one. This is crisis mode, I thought. I am exhausted. How can they not be exhausted? How can they not just pass out? I nursed Eliana about four times before she finally fell asleep (in her swing). I gave up on Isaac's nap and gathered my energy (what energy?) for dealing with his EXTREME crabbiness. Ilan lay on the couch - ready to pass out at any minute but refusing to give in - for hours.
I went and got some ice cream from the freezer. CRISIS a la MODE.
February 6, 2007
Sometimes, I Don't Love You
It finally happened. I knew it would. I just didn't know what it would feel like.
My son told me "I love daddy more than you." First, he told my husband "I love you more than mommy." Then, he turned to me and innocently made it clear.
I've heard "I don't love you." plenty of times before. Somehow, this one was different. It brought stinging tears in my eyes. I asked my son to go sit in his room to think about his cruel words which is how we begin our path to apology... and then I got mad at my husband.
He was home from work early, having been out of town for the past two nights. He wanted to take the older boys miniature golfing. Isaac, 19 months, had fallen asleep in the car on the way to pick the boys up from school and he was going to stay at home. Eliana, 4 months, of course - would stay home.
But, Isaac woke up when I tried to put him in his crib. He was crabby from not having completed his nap. I didn't want to be stuck at home with that - I wanted to enjoy my husband's home-from-work-early day too.
Aaron was excited to go miniature golfing. I know that's where the four year old feeling came from. Daddy always gets to take the boys on fun outings. Mommy stays with the little ones. My husband, rightly so, wanted to take the boys out for an adventure to take advantage of his being home early and due to the fact that he is leaving the country for 12 days a little later this month.
I used to do fun things too. Ilan and Aaron were born 17 months apart. I used to pick Ilan up from school at 1:00 and drive down to the children's museum. We would hang out there for an hour and drive home. I would take them to the park. I did art projects with them. We spent time digging and planting and hunting for treasure in our backyard. We explored the world together.
Now, Ilan and Aaron are in school until 3:00 and 3:30 respectively. Isaac and Eliana are 16 months apart but still too young to do the things I used to do with Ilan and Aaron (though I have to say, I have taken all four out on brief outings - to the zoo, to the park, to the science museum). I need to remind myself of that and realize that their (and my) time will come. I also need to remind my husband of this - just to make myself feel better.
"You know, David," I said to him, "just because I stay at home with the children doesn't mean I get to do these fun things that you do all the time. I'd like to take advantage of you being home early too - especially since you are leaving town again and I'm going to have to operate in maintenance mode."
David offered for me to take the boys miniature golfing and he'd stay home. That wasn't the point. But, I appreciated the offer. I wanted him to have another glimpse into motherhood. I am constantly providing glimpses of motherhood for David, and he understands. And, he doesn't want my job.
In the meantime, I have to remember that everything is temporary. Everything passes by eventually. My days operating according to the very different routines of Eliana and Isaac will soon pass, and we will have morning adventures together. I won't have to stop what we are doing and nurse Ellie on the floor of a bathroom stall. I won't have to wake up Isaac from his much needed nap in order to pick up Aaron and then Ilan at school. I won't have to spend much of my day in the house because my children nap at different times.
Life goes by quickly, and I am sure I will miss the days when my youngest children were still babies. But, for now, I dream of future freedoms and await my moment of adventure with my children - when I will be looked upon as the really cool parent, the one who plays and creates fun things to do.
I heard Aaron calling me from his room - a first in the moments of "time to think about what we just did and how it made the other person feel". I went into his room.
"I'm ready to apologize," he said. Our family is working on apologizing with respect and really thinking about what we did that hurt the other person - thus, the minutes alone in the room.
"I'm sorry for... saying I loved Daddy better than you." In my mind, the apology went on... "really, I love you better because you are the one who makes sure I'm fed and that I wear the proper clothes to school. You're the one who keeps me on my routine and makes sure I get to bed on time. You're the one who knows that I like my hot dog outside of the bun, but I like to eat the bun too. You're the one, Mommy, who I really need.... even though you're not always so much fun." (a mom can dream, can't she?)
I gave Aaron a hug and told him that his words really hurt my feelings but thanked him for apologizing. "Is there anything I can do for you?", he continued. (something I learned from a friend that extends the apology and really shows the other person that you care about them and want to make up for what you did - thanks, Ayala)
"How about a hug?", I replied.
Aaron came over and gave me a tight squeeze. Then he walked out the door to go miniature golfing with his dad.
My son told me "I love daddy more than you." First, he told my husband "I love you more than mommy." Then, he turned to me and innocently made it clear.
I've heard "I don't love you." plenty of times before. Somehow, this one was different. It brought stinging tears in my eyes. I asked my son to go sit in his room to think about his cruel words which is how we begin our path to apology... and then I got mad at my husband.
He was home from work early, having been out of town for the past two nights. He wanted to take the older boys miniature golfing. Isaac, 19 months, had fallen asleep in the car on the way to pick the boys up from school and he was going to stay at home. Eliana, 4 months, of course - would stay home.
But, Isaac woke up when I tried to put him in his crib. He was crabby from not having completed his nap. I didn't want to be stuck at home with that - I wanted to enjoy my husband's home-from-work-early day too.
Aaron was excited to go miniature golfing. I know that's where the four year old feeling came from. Daddy always gets to take the boys on fun outings. Mommy stays with the little ones. My husband, rightly so, wanted to take the boys out for an adventure to take advantage of his being home early and due to the fact that he is leaving the country for 12 days a little later this month.
I used to do fun things too. Ilan and Aaron were born 17 months apart. I used to pick Ilan up from school at 1:00 and drive down to the children's museum. We would hang out there for an hour and drive home. I would take them to the park. I did art projects with them. We spent time digging and planting and hunting for treasure in our backyard. We explored the world together.
Now, Ilan and Aaron are in school until 3:00 and 3:30 respectively. Isaac and Eliana are 16 months apart but still too young to do the things I used to do with Ilan and Aaron (though I have to say, I have taken all four out on brief outings - to the zoo, to the park, to the science museum). I need to remind myself of that and realize that their (and my) time will come. I also need to remind my husband of this - just to make myself feel better.
"You know, David," I said to him, "just because I stay at home with the children doesn't mean I get to do these fun things that you do all the time. I'd like to take advantage of you being home early too - especially since you are leaving town again and I'm going to have to operate in maintenance mode."
David offered for me to take the boys miniature golfing and he'd stay home. That wasn't the point. But, I appreciated the offer. I wanted him to have another glimpse into motherhood. I am constantly providing glimpses of motherhood for David, and he understands. And, he doesn't want my job.
In the meantime, I have to remember that everything is temporary. Everything passes by eventually. My days operating according to the very different routines of Eliana and Isaac will soon pass, and we will have morning adventures together. I won't have to stop what we are doing and nurse Ellie on the floor of a bathroom stall. I won't have to wake up Isaac from his much needed nap in order to pick up Aaron and then Ilan at school. I won't have to spend much of my day in the house because my children nap at different times.
Life goes by quickly, and I am sure I will miss the days when my youngest children were still babies. But, for now, I dream of future freedoms and await my moment of adventure with my children - when I will be looked upon as the really cool parent, the one who plays and creates fun things to do.
I heard Aaron calling me from his room - a first in the moments of "time to think about what we just did and how it made the other person feel". I went into his room.
"I'm ready to apologize," he said. Our family is working on apologizing with respect and really thinking about what we did that hurt the other person - thus, the minutes alone in the room.
"I'm sorry for... saying I loved Daddy better than you." In my mind, the apology went on... "really, I love you better because you are the one who makes sure I'm fed and that I wear the proper clothes to school. You're the one who keeps me on my routine and makes sure I get to bed on time. You're the one who knows that I like my hot dog outside of the bun, but I like to eat the bun too. You're the one, Mommy, who I really need.... even though you're not always so much fun." (a mom can dream, can't she?)
I gave Aaron a hug and told him that his words really hurt my feelings but thanked him for apologizing. "Is there anything I can do for you?", he continued. (something I learned from a friend that extends the apology and really shows the other person that you care about them and want to make up for what you did - thanks, Ayala)
"How about a hug?", I replied.
Aaron came over and gave me a tight squeeze. Then he walked out the door to go miniature golfing with his dad.
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