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So I haven't written about homeschooling through preschool lately. That's probably because, if I were to label myself, I'm an Unschooler Preschool Teacher. I'm totally milking the fact that it is not required that a child have a formal education in their preschool years. Life happens and I mentally label them as "science lesson", "history lesson", "character lesson", "pop culture lesson". Well, maybe not the last one...I did try to put on some soft classical music during breakfast the other day in the interest of culturing their musical ear. The response? "No, Mom. I don't like that music." Well, too bad; you're listening to it because it will make you smarter. Also, I haven't had my coffee yet and it makes me feel calmer in the midst of shoving waffles, fruit and yogurt across the counter and figuring out which cup you will approve of to drink your milk in. So...just listen.
Lately, Ethan's been really into science things. Sometime this winter I scored a great deal on a box of 50 pre-school and kindergarten level non-fiction books. Originally, I had planned on keeping them separate from his normal kid books and pulling them out when a teaching moment arose. And then I thought, why? Why not let non-fiction become a normal part of his reading routine? Let him be interested in whatever seems interesting. I hate non-fiction, and I especially hate science, so if I can encourage interest in both of those, I really should.
He loves those books. Last week, he was really into the books on spiders. Yea. Then he wanted me to read the book on bruises. And then the one about apples. And then the one about your five senses. He discovered how cool The Magic Schoolbus is and has been completely obsessed with it. Thanks to those books and the DVDs we got out of the library, he wants to look at that thing dangling in the back of everyone's throats (yeah, I don't know what it's called. I probably need an anatomy refresher.)
A few days ago, he found a book about an astronaut living on a space shuttle. He read it multiple times during breakfast. Last night, he was blasting off in the driveway and shooting off into the sky. Earlier this week, my mom texted me that my uncle's rocket satellite was blasting off from Alaska and we could watch it live online (here). So we did.
They loved it. As soon as it was over, they jumped off their chairs, blasted off and ran upstairs to dig their space shuttles out of their car/airplane bin.
Science lesson: check. That was easy.
Sharing with:
No Ordinary Blog Hop
Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that my kids are kids. You know, not adults. Sometimes it's hard to see a meltdown and not roll my eyes and think, "Oh my goodness, seriously?!?! Get over it, kid!"
But my kids are kids. They are little kids. The problem is proportionate to the size of the person. This morning, I strapped my kids into their carseats, hopped into the driver's seat, turned the key, and...nothing happened. Nothing. Not even a flicker of power. Hooray. I called Dave at work; he came home and tried to jump me. We're not exactly experienced car jumpers. I wasn't even sure we owned jumper cables. We had to read the manual to figure out how to do it without blowing up the cars. It didn't work so we called a wrecking company to tow the car to the dealership. Guess what the wrecker guy did when he got here?
He jumped the car. And it started. Yeah...talk about feeling like an idiot. And just as a sidenote, the car was dead because a certain four year old let a certain two year old into the car who then left a dome light on for more than 24 hours. Anyway, the problem was solved and I tell that story as an example of an adult problem, the kind of problem I tend to think is the only kind of problem that justifies frustration.
I had an opportunity to be reminded that kids have their own level of problems and disappointments, that while they might seem minute to a big person, are just the same size as the person experiencing them.
After dinner, Noah came asking for something. Dave and I weren't sure what but it sounded a lot like "boo" and was accompanied by a hand motion - blowing on his fingers in his mouth. Somehow I managed to translate that he wanted us to blow up balloons. So we blew up one balloon each, to their ecstatic delight. Ethan's red balloon popped within 5 minutes. Immediately, before the sob could break out, I assured him that we had more balloons. The sobbing broke out anyway. He didn't want any more balloons. Dave blew up a green balloon anyway, because, heck, four year olds are irrational when they are crying and chances were, in about 2 minutes he was going to want another balloon. He kept sobbing...and sobbing...and sobbing. Finally, I thought, "This is ridiculous", and had him take a break to calm down. He was sort of draining the happy energy from the rest of us. He just could not get it together. We left him alone for a while, then Dave tried to talk to him, let him out of his break, we watched him wander around wimpering with tears threatening to spill over. He saw the remnants of the red balloon and the tears overflowed. Finally, I thought, "For whatever reason, that balloon was a big deal to him and he just needs a little understanding and grace right now." So I dried my hands, sat down on the floor, and pulled him onto my lap.
"I know that balloon was really fun and special and it's a bummer that it popped. It's ok to be sad that it popped but let's not keep being sad about the red balloon and let's be happy about the green balloon"
Amazing...a gentle answer turns away not just wrath, but sometimes disappointment and sadness and irrationality.
He calmed. The tears stopped. He nodded his head. Mom understood. And it was done.
I don't always get it but I did this time and it felt like one of those rare winning moments in parenting where you just get a quick breeze of confidence and reassurance that God really does give you the grace to know how to parent your kids, even in tiny moments like that.
Linked to:
No Ordinary Blog Hop and
Why Not Train a Child
Since they were babies, I have taken both my kids to the library. People have told me that I might be crazy for doing this. They're right. I am crazy. It's a nightmare. I feel like I should earn a survival badge every time we walk out of there. Here's how it goes (it's a little long, but bear with me for the full effect):
We park.
I unload the boys.
Ethan puts the quarter in the meter.
Noah wanders down the sidewalk and around the corner of the bushes.
I call for Noah to wait. No response.
We follow after Noah.
We walk down the sidewalk beside the library. Both boys wend their way back and forth in between the pillars. We must stop and step on every single underground light.
We reach the door.
Both boys yell that it's their turn to push the button to open the door.
(Note: The button is for handicap people. I have not taught that lesson yet. I am breaking the rules by using it. Furthermore, I don't care.)
I explain that Ethan can push the button first and Noah can push it on the way out.
A library patron dares to exit the library. We cannot enter until the door has closed and Ethan has pushed the button himself.
The doors close.
Another patron exits.
We wait again.
Ethan pushes the button and we enter.
We drop the books off at the front counter.
Ethan wanders around the foyer.
We make our way to the elevator...or steps...or whatever suits our fancy that particular day.
Once we get up to the kids section (which, thankfully, is completely separate from the adult section, thus ensuring that noise doesn't matter as much).
Ethan, being the typical firstborn child, sits down at the little table with the first book I pull out for him.
Noah runs away.
Ethan asks for more books.
I call Noah.
He ignores me.
I chase Noah.
I wind up grabbing him by the arm, thus looking like a mean Mommy.
I find more books for Ethan, while holding onto Noah's hand.
I try to take Noah to the table and show him the "fun books. Look, aren't they fun!!"
He sits down and turns to the middle of the first book.
I turn around to find another book.
Noah runs away.
I call Noah.
He ignores me.
I chase Noah.
I catch him and inform him that disciplinary measures will be taken if he doesn't stay near Mama. Now I look like Super Mean Mommy.
I show him the toys in the back of the kids room. Ugh. Some genius thought it was a good idea to keep a large stuffed Oscar the Grouch in the room. People! Don't you know that it's reasonable to expect that sound effects MUST be used when playing with Oscar?
Well, that was a bust.
I take him with me on the book search, sit him on my lap and show him a book.
He pulls out a random book from the shelves.
I put it back.
I show him a book that I think is not too long fun.
He turns the first page.
He starts to climb out of my lap, tossing the book on the floor.
At this point, I have found approximately 2 books.
We usually leave with about 15-20.
I hold Noah's arm to keep him from running away. I pick him up and carry him with me while I attempt to find books. Now I look like Evil Mommy.
He shrieks.
Repeat. Many times.
Fast forward to the checkout.
We stand in line.
Ethan has decided that the circular mosiac pattern on the floor is a racetrack and has turned into a racecar.
Noah thinks that idea is awesome and immediately becomes a racecar too.
I don't stop him because frankly, I'm exhausted. And it's only been 30 minutes.
Yes, I am THAT MOTHER.
We make it to the checkout lady. I tell both boys to sit on the floor in front of me.
They sit.
But they don't sit still.
Now, it's time to pretend we are sledding on the library floor. They scoot away from me inch by inch.
I direct them back out of the aisle.
Now it's wrestling time.
Great.
I give up. They're happy, right?
The wrestling gets out of hand.
I enlist the boys to help me put the books in the bag.
We approach the door and it is Noah's turn to push the button.
We exit.
Now, we must walk between the pillars and when we reach the high end, we must run around the corner where Mommy can't get you.
I stand at the edge of the ledge, calling names many many times.
They finally come and jump into my arms.
We make it back to the car.
I vow that I am never going to the library again...ever.
I need a glass of wine. Sigh...
So why do I do this every three weeks? Well, what's the alternative, really? Read the same books over and over again? Never have free books or movies, for myself or the boys? I just survive. And I'm not sure what I'm going to do when Baby Ichabod comes, but I'm guessing I'm probably going to choose to add to the chaos. He'll just sleep quietly in the sling, right?
I know. Just pretend. It keeps me sane.
In exactly 8 weeks, on November 21, I will have three children. I'm not panicking. Why am I am not panicking? Should I be panicking? I know that worrying is never good, but I spent most of my second pregnancy panicking about how in the world I was going to take care of two kids. I suppose that could have also been due to the fact that Ethan and Noah were only 14 months apart - and therefore both babies - but still...the prospect of taking care of three kids does not freak me out. Is it yet to come? Or have I arrived at some understanding that I don't need to freak out about this?
I think the lack of worry is primarily due to two factors:
1) I have friends with three (and more) children and almost every single one has said that going from 1-2 kids is way harder than going from 2-3 (or 3-4, or 4-5). I've heard that it's actually harder to have two kids than it is to have more, which sounds counter-intuitive to me, so I'm curious how that works. All more-than-2-kid-familes have said that they were much more laid back about the third kid than they were about the first two and I'm sort of looking forward to that zen-like state.
2) There's no point in thinking about how I'm going to do the three kid thing...I'm just going to do it. I think I know in the back of my head that it's going to be mind-boggling for a while - like, oh, probably a year - and that it's going to make my head spin to keep track of what I'm supposed to be doing for each kid. The good thing is that I basically have twin boys as my older two who always have exactly the same routine, play with the same toys, and eat the same foods. When Dave and I "divide and conquer", we will divide up the "Non-Twins" and the "Baby".
So what's the advice from the peanut gallery? What should I expect from having Kid #3?
I turned into a shrew the other day. A shrew, like from Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. Grumbly. Cranky. Fussy. Annoyed. Sigh-y. Groan-y.
You know how parenting is a roller coaster? One week you feel like you're on cloud nine; the kids are listening to you, coming when you call, happily playing together (or by themselves), following instructions, not running away in the grocery store...and then the next week, it gets all crazy. No one listens to a word you say, "playing" involves dumping out every single box of toys in the entire house...multiple times...as you're cleaning up, trips to the store involve kids crawling through clothing racks or whining about that box of Buzz Lightyear fruit snacks you're refusing to buy because there are already four boxes of fruit snacks in the pantry, boys are having knockdown drag-out fights over who gets to hold the Matchbox ambulance, "lunch" ends with a pile of apple slices, chunks of cheese and pretzels covering the floor because a certain two boys decided they needed to pretend to be Cookie Monster during the meal, any household task (say, folding a pair of pants) gets interrupted four times because a certain 2 1/2 year old is screaming your name at the top of his lungs because he can't get in the back door...
That was how this week started. And I did not handle it with grace. I must admit I was completely ignoring the conviction in my head, the words that have stuck with me from Turansky and MIller's Parenting Shifts: "Conflict happens when problems are met with emotional intensity." Oh, there was lots of emotional intensity. I gave myself a headache from the emotional intensity.
And then my almost-four year old spoke up at dinner: "Mom, do you have a bad attitude again?" Sigh. "Yes, I do. Do you think Mommy should change her bad attitude?" "Yeah.(pause) Don't smile...don't smile!" Sigh. Do you ever feel like you don't want to change your bad attitude?? I just sort of felt like I was surviving on that bad attitude...somehow. I think I know what the root of the problem was: when I have an agenda to accomplish, the interruptions that my kids provide makes me angry. The lack of control over my circumstances frustrates me. So what's the solution? This might be a hint that I'm not learning one of the primary life lessons that comes along with parenting, and that is that we, as parents, have a limited amount of control over our lives and those of our children. Also, parenting is sacrifice. Believe it or not, it is a sacrifice to my perfectionism to decide not to have a perfectly clean house. It's a sacrifice to my want to decorate to decide I'm not going to drag the boys to five stores looking for a curtain rod. It's a sacrifice to my pride to throw a pizza in the oven instead of slaving over the stove to make a three course meal. I want to be perfect. I want to have it all together. I want to look like I have it all together. I want to be supermom. And I can't. I'm not perfect and I'm not supermom. The more I try to be the amazing heroine, the more I turn into the evil villain.
Slow down. Pare down the agenda. Stop getting angry when my kids act like kids instead of adults. Turn around and smile when they scream my name for the millionth time. Take a deep breath and make my way over to the latest wrestling match over who gets the Matchbox car that they found in the trees behind the house. Remember it's ok if a load of laundry sits in the dryer for an extra day.
That's what I need to remember.
Sharing with:
No Ordinary Blog Hop
I read an interview with Brad Pitt this weekend, wherein he made this declaration about parenting: "I was surprised at how automatic it is, how much of it is instinctual." And I had to roll my eyes at the classic obliviousness that celebrities often express in regards to everyday issues. Automatic...instinctual...right. Sure, God gives us wisdom to parent our children. But if parenting is supposedly "automatic", why do I, along with many other moms, spend so much time searching for ideas on how to handle this situation or that situation? Why do I feel baffled by my kids sometimes?
The more Christian parenting books I read, the more I feel like most of them are great on theoretic principles and short on application. I've written before about taking a class from my church on Tedd Tripp's classic (and well-written) parenting book - Shepherding a Child's Heart; I wrote about how while the principles are great - and I agree with them - I left feeling like I needed direction on exactly how to apply the ideas. Recently, I read a blog post (somewhere?) where the author lamented the fact that she has found more practical ideas on parenting from secular sources - public schools, private schools, social organizations - than she has from Christian sources. Why is that? If we're going to parent our kids from a Christian worldview, why are the practical ideas so hard to come by within the church?
All complaining and lamenting aside, I think I've stumbled upon a treasure trove of practical application of Christian parenting principles. Befuddled parents, search no longer. The National Center for Biblical Parenting has given me more clarity and direction regarding parenting than I have ever had in the four years since my first son was born. Within the materials offered, there is Scripture, there are principles drawn from Scripture and there are examples and application in abundance.
About a month ago, I recommended a book by Scott Turansky and Joanne Miller, entitled Parenting is Heart Work. If you didn't read that review, I've linked to it so you can go back and read it. You need to read that book. Get the principles in parenting your kids from a Christian point of view. Then, you need to read another book...or a few. When Dr. Turansky sent me a copy of a more recent e-book (my first one...more on that for another post)entitled Parenting Shifts: 50 Heart Based Strategies to Keep You Growing in Your Parenting, I was pretty excited. I'm only halfway through it (blame that on moving, being pregnant with my third baby, keeping up with two boys under the age of 4 and finding too many books I want to read) and I already feel like I can recommend it.
- "Don't turn problems into conflict...conflict happens when problems are met with emotional intensity."
- "If you have a child who doesn't know how to cooperate, you might want to use a technique called, 'Obey first and then talk about it.'"
- "Move from the issue to the process." (How to change the way kids handle situations with whining, badgering, arguing, complaining, etc.)
- Think long term about parenting. "For example, a lot of adults whine, complain, have bad attitudes, and can't follow a simple instruction without an argument. So why not develop adult solutions for children's problems, break them down to their developmental level, and practice the right response."
-"Affirm approximately right behavior..don't wait until things are absolutely right." Give your kids grace and recognize that change is a process not an event.
-"Good parenting doesn't just look to being right, but also looks for the wise response."
- What makes firmness work: "clarifying expectations", "constructive confrontation", "waiting expectantly". (Works with 2 1/2 year old wild-child Noah)
- "Group offenses around character qualities." (I've discovered that 4 year old Ethan needs to develop perseverance by doing this.)
- Instead of having a "justice mentality" and simply doling out punishments for wrong behavior, work on disciplining (training) your child towards what they should do instead.
- "Don't practice in the grocery store. That's the final exam."
And on and on it goes. I'm going to end up quoting the whole first half of the book if I continue...Once I finish the entire book, I'll be coming back to the specific parts that I've applied to flesh out examples of how the advice has played out in our family life. Glancing at the chapters I haven't read yet, I can see more blog posts writing themselves in my head. However, the book was too good to have a recommendation shelved until such time as I am able to finish it. Who knows...with a baby coming in exactly 9 weeks, I have no idea how much time I'll spend writing!!
In the meantime, you can click on the link to the NCBP to sign up for parenting tips via e-mail or like their Facebook page to get the tips in your newsfeed.
Sharing with:
No Ordinary Blog Hop
For posterity's sake, here is Ethan's prayer from last night:
Dear Jesus,
Thank you for this day.
Thank you for Emma and Martha (current favorite babysitters)...and their house.
Thank you for Mommy and Daddy and Noah.
Thank you for...Mommy?
Yes, Ethan?
What's that noise?
That's the air conditioning.
Thank you for the new house....Mommy?
Yes?
Can you turn the air conditioning off?
No, don't worry about it right now.
Thank you for air conditioning.
Thank you for fans...and chairs...and that they rock.
Noah! You need to be quiet. Mommy, Noah needs to stop talking.
Noah, you need to be quiet when Ethan is praying.
Thank you for pillows...and cars.
Thank you for...bones...and movement...and, and...this thing.
In Jesus Name,
Amen.
With the baby coming in 10 1/2 weeks (cue panicked screaming), Dave had the realization that these are the last 10 1/2 weeks with just two boys and the last 10 1/2 weeks where we won't have a newborn always between us (for a while). It prompted him to come home early this evening even though he had to turn around and go back out for a dinner appointment. We attempted to make use of the time by sitting on the couch in the generally unused "formal" living room and talking. Right. That went well. In between half sentences, the boys kept wandering in to do...I'm not sure what. Make their presence known, basically. Be with their daddy, whom they absolutely adore. We had sent them into the playroom where they stayed for approximately 23 seconds.
Ethan came in to show us that he had pulled a knob off the butcher block thingy.
Then he came in to get the only toy that was in the room.
The wheels had to be put back on the toy before he could remove it.
Noah came in with a baseball cap on backwards and a play diaper bag over his shoulder.
As soon as he came in, he trooped back out.
Noah came in to show us that he was putting a random piece of cardboard in the diaper bag.
Oh, look! A bug!
Wait! Where did the bug go?
Oh, right...under the couch. Right where you're trying to talk.
New activity...practicing handling a mini-football on the chair across from the couch.
And now he's tossing it back and forth with Daddy.
And then came the kicker...
"Mommy? Can you wipe my butt?"
I surrender. Romance is for after bedtime.
Well, hello, third trimester...I've been dreading your arrival and now here we are. 12 more weeks to go (well, 11, really, since I'm having a scheduled c-section) and I can feel time starting to slow down. That glorious second trimester filled with energy was over way too quickly. Nowadays, the highlights of pregnancy include:
- I have daily heartburn.
- I have daily aches and pains.
- My materity shirts are suddenly starting to be too short.
- I am exhausted by 11:30am.
- I take a nap during the boys' naptime, can barely drag myself out of bed to get Ethan up.
- Due to nap, I cannot sleep at night.
- I cannot sleep at night even if I don't take a nap. This might also be due to the fact that I've been re-reading the Harry Potter books and dreaming about Snape, Dumbledore dying, Black Marks, people yelling expelliarmus and sectumsempra, horcruxes, Quidditch, and apparating is just not particularly restful.
- I am sleeping with the Boppy Pregnancy Wedge supporting the weight of my belly.
- I can only sleep on my side, which means that every time I turn over, I have to move the pillow and reposition it.
- The baby (who supposedly has "regular periods of waking and sleeping") is predictably awake at midnight, 2 am and 6 am.
- Hmmm....there's a lot about sleeping here, huh?
- While Ethan kicked so much and so fast in utero that I actually asked the OB if he could be having seizures, and Noah slowly manuevered his way into snuggling positions in utero, little Ichabod Crane (thanks, Melanie!) seems to be a wiggler. He just squirms around all the time.
- I marked the occasion of the first internal kick to my cervix yesterday...while I was walking across the church sanctuary. Yikes!
- The 28 week glucose test is on Wednesday. I think I'm also seeing the doctor nicknamed the "Weight Nazi" by the nurses...guess what? You can yell at me all you want about how I've probably gained "too much weight". I.Don't.Care.
- I stopped running 3 weeks ago because I was too busy and active packing up the house. I'm considering starting to walk and maybe alternate running a bit to see if it helps with my energy level. Considering. Not sure I'm motivated enough. At this point, my honest motivation for attempting running again is because I still have slight delusions of winning some Prenatal Fitness Award. Sort of like how I always dress up a bit more to go to the OBGYN like I'm going to win some Maternity Fashion Award and carry my water bottle with me so that I can win the Healthy Pregnant Woman Award.
-I've officially hit the point of "I just want to hold the baby." Forget this pregnancy stuff...give me my baby!
- No pictures of the belly. I don't look any different than I did the other two times. And I feel so deformed that I'm not sure why I documented it the other two times.
Almost done...almost done.
Ah, the joys of being a female parenting two males...Noah drew his own conclusions today about what's behind all those extra bumps that I have that he does not.
The boys have been so sweet about talking about the baby in Mommy's belly. Ethan loves to tell him about dinosaurs (the "thing" right now) and kiss my belly at random moments, generally when we're in a store. Of course, Noah must follow suit so he grabs me around the middle and kisses "the baby" too. Today, however, he got confused. I went in to get him from his nap and he immediately stood up in his crib and came over to the side. He started jabbing at my chest and asking, "What's this?" (I didn't respond). Then he said he wanted to kiss the baby so he leaned over the side a little and kissed my belly. And then proceeded to kiss each of my other "babies" above the real baby belly. Nice. As long as we don't keep that up into adolescence we'll be fine.
