Ooops!

It's summer break. It's 10:37 a.m. I have been up for hours. I left for the grocery store. One child was up and went back to sleep. One was reading in her bed. Two were still asleep. 

Didn't I tell her I was leaving? Didn't I stick my note on the door to my bedroom? I have several pre-written notes: "hiking", "out walking", "be back soon".  

And then I get a call:  "Mommy?!?"  "Where are you?! We've looked all over for you. We can't find you in the house."

Oops! Thankful I have a teenager - or two - at home and I didn't leave my children 'home alone'.

*HUGS*

I hate to admit this - I was annoyed yesterday by the amount of hugs incoming sixth (I had to change that as I wrote fifth grade at first) grade boy was asking for. I'm not a person who needs a lot of physical attention - at least I didn't think I was. 

Sixth grade boy does. He is a snuggler. Rub his head and he melts like butter. As he wakes up in the morning, he needs a touch of the hand. I always say he needs help coming down from the heavens each morning. And he likes his hugs - every time he passes you in the house; when he leaves for school; when he sees you AT school - lots of hugs. 

I KNOW. I should relish in that and cherish that and stand for 15 minutes with him in a hugging embrace. And, now, perhaps, I will. 

But yesterday, I was annoyed and impatient. I even considered that he was in the midst of some Freudian-love-for-mother phase. I offer my apologies to the goddess of peace and calm and all that is right in the world. 

Listening to Sara Gottfried this morning (hormonal expert and - yes - the peri-menopausal stuff is really happening), I was reminded of a good friend - oxytocin.  Oxytocin is the 'love' hormone. While it is released during labor and helps the uterus contract, it is also released when you hug someone. 

Hugging someone and raising your oxytocin levels not only makes you feel good - it lowers your cortisol levels. Cortisol is a hormone released by the adrenals in response to stress or your perception of stress. When you raise your  oxytocin, you decrease your cortisol and subsequently find yourself at your happy place. 

So, today, I'll focus on giving and getting those hugs. No half-assed, quick hip hugs - but the full embrace! ( personal space invasion accepted with joy)

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!

You Gotta Sit in the Backseat to Hear the Music & Feel the Air

I never realized how loud the music was or how gently the air blew in the back of the minivan until I had to sit there. I couldn’t hear a thing that was being said to me from up front, and the air conditioner – though blowing very loudly – was hardly blowing at all.

My children don’t always say “turn the music down” (ok, they never say turn it down – they constantly say to turn it up - and the oldest is only 4). And, it is only recently that they are able to say “I’m hot; make it colder.”

I realize that’s how the parent/child relationship exists in many arenas. Our children are often not able to verbalize (have you ever said “Use your words, Johnny”?) what they are thinking, feeling or needing. When the tantrums strike, it is our responsibility to listen, to decode and to respond appropriately.

Yelling is not a response that works. Ignoring doesn't actually fulfill their desperate need either. Getting frustrated only fuels their frustration. You are the parent. You are supposed to know these things. (“Mommies know everything”, my four year old often tells me… “but Daddies know more.”)

It is important – essential, perhaps – to speak to your children on their level. Get down on your knees and look them in the eyes. Hold them tightly when they are so deep in a tantrum, they cannot control themselves. Think about life from their perspective. Take a walk in their shoes. Set aside your own desire to rip your hair out, to yell loudly, or to tell them how stupid they are being… and respond to them while modeling patience, communication and understanding. And, if all else fails, drop to your knees and pray for it to pass quickly.

©2005 Lisa Pinkus