And We’re Competitive About Cupcakes?

I recently received one of my alumni magazines (about which I’ve written before) and read the following article: http://www.colby.edu/colby.mag/issues/current/features.php?issueid=48&articleid=906

To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what the point was. I think, though, that it was about how these incredibly high-powered women who sound like they chew nails for breakfast wish their husbands would help pack lunches and make kids’ doctors appointments, and then they would have perfect balance in their lives. However, their ideas of parenting (I am paraphrasing here) include taking turns relieving the nanny and taking the 4-year old to school once a month (I’m serious). How can they think they will ever find balance? And they are sad that they will never be able to compete with moms who bake gourmet cupcakes and attend their kids’ sporting events. Whatever. And why do I feel like I will be viewed anti-women because I wrote this? I think of myself as a feminist and think men and women are equal in their abilities. I do think the women mentioned in the article are crazy though. 

I included my response below: 

I was confused by the article “Double Duty” in the winter 2009 issue. Was the point to say that these women would be having an easier time if their husbands took on more domestic responsibilities, or was it a celebration of what these women are achieving in business? I found it depressing. Every educated, two-career couple must make hard decisions when they bring a child in to the world. That child arrives with a 24-hour a day need for care. Two parents with two full-time jobs suddenly have three full-time jobs, one of which comes with strong emotional needs. Every family must decide what will work for all of them as individuals and as a unit and usually both parents need to make sacrifices and compromises.

The careers these high-powered women have chosen typically do not allow time for family, a condition that was at one time reserved for men. If both members of a couple choose these types of careers, then there will never be enough family time, whether the husband does his fair share of laundry and appointment-making or not. I’m not saying the women should not pursue these careers, but I believe that families find more balance when one or both members of the couple put the brakes on their careers for a while when they have kids at home. In choosing to push the careers forward full-throttle at a time when kids need you the most is not taking their needs into consideration. It is a selfish decision, and an imbalance is an inevitable result.

The fact that these women feel they are competing with moms who bake gourmet cupcakes, volunteer at school and attend sporting events is sad. What child cares about gourmet cupcakes? Where people spend their limited time is a reflection of their values, whether it’s at work, the gym, volunteering at the homeless shelter or at the tanning salon. And parents, mothers and fathers, who volunteer at school and attend sporting events, are there because they want to be—they value time with their children. No trophies are handed out, but the families that spend time together benefit by having a strong bond, shared memories, and a connection to their community. Relationships reflect the amount of effort that are put in to them and this is true with colleagues, a spouse, friends and kids, and we all have the difficult decision of deciding where we will put that energy.

I know many women (and men) who are proud to strong models for their children by bucking society’s obsession with status, money and egocentrism, and performing one of the most undervalued jobs in our country: raising our kids. 

Sibling Relations

One of my favorite things about my kids getting older is watching their relationship develop. Jasper was really excited when I was pregnant with Hugo, anxiously awaiting his new sibling. Unfortunately, for unknown reasons, he was positive that he was getting a little sister, and he was disappointed at first with a little brother. He soon came around though once the baby was born and generally adored the new addition to the family. That is, of course, until Hugo became mobile. Once the baby could get into Jasper’s toys and projects, knock down Lego towers and scribble on his drawings, Jasper wasn’t so thrilled about a little brother any more. I remember saying at one point a couple years back, “if they’re together, they’re fighting.”

Fast-forward two years and I would genuinely say that my boys are best friends.  At ages 4 and 7 they can spend hours playing. They still fight of course, but there are long stretches of time when they can visit imaginary lands together, build forts, and truly enjoy each other’s company.

Hugo has long admired Jasper, but recently his worship of his older brother has grown almost comical, with his desire to imitate Jasper’s facial expressions, clothing, and jokes. I will ask the boys what they want for breakfast and Hugo will stare silently out of the corner of his eyes at Jasper until his big brother responds, “I’ll have a waffle.” Hugo will look at me right after that and say, “I’ll have a waffle.” The copying has become so blatant that Jasper, Jim and I will often say, “Hugo, you are your own person. You can choose whatever breakfast/activity/color crayon you want.” This does not seem to be helping. Even when it comes to a discussion about their activities we might propose, “boys, you have time to watch a video or draw before dinner.” Hugo will stand there, not knowing what to do, until Jasper answers, “let’s watch Prehistoric Park,” immediately followed by Hugo happily yelling with conviction, “yeah, Prehistoric Park!”  

At times I worry that Hugo will end up not being the person he is destined to be because he is so influenced by Jasper. He has certainly adopted many of Jasper’s interests I think, purely because they’re Jasper’s. He can identify obscure dinosaurs and birds because of time spent with his big brother. However, in this regard, I see more balance. Jasper has been very much influenced by his little brother too. As a really little kid Jasper showed no interest in roughhousing with other boys, ball sports, race cars, and other “typical” boy behavior. But, he got a tough little brother, and I love watching them fight over who has the better, faster race car and then laugh gleefully as they play-smash the cars in a demolition derby. Jasper had no choice but to learn to wrestle with a little brother that was constantly flying through the air and landing on his back. These new skills have served him well and I now see him playfully tussling with his classmates after school and feels proud when he can “take down a fourth grader.” As much as Jasper introduces Hugo to the wonders of how mushrooms reproduce and the fascinating shapes of various crystals, Hugo has made his brother current on the cool factor of Star Wars, Speed Racer and monster trucks.

I just hope, as their mother, that they can always find common ground and appreciate each other. We foster this relationship by pointing out that having a brother is like having a best friend for your whole life.  Whether they always feel like best friends is yet to be seen, but for now I loved seeing them give each other a huge hug this evening and in the spirit of their much-loved book, “Guess How Much I Love You,” hear Hugo tell his big brother “I love you outside the universe and back,” and hear Jasper respond, “I love you outside the universe and back too.”

 

 

 

Helicopter Parenting

It recently occurred to me that despite how horrified I am by the phenomenon of helicopter parenting, in this day and age parents have no choice but to hover around their children. I cringe when I hear about parents complaining to college professors about a grade their child received and about parents negotiating the salaries of their college-graduate children. Parents have clearly, to me, become completely over-involved in their kids’ lives for these types of things to be happening. But I also think about how kids are not free to play outside on their own anymore. It’s not “safe.” Even if a parent believes in the free-range philosophy, there are no other free-range kids around to play with. And frankly, even if free-range is an appealing concept, one look at a web page of sexual predators in your neighborhood will change your mind.

So, that leaves parents with few options. Enroll your children in everything to fill their days, sit them in front of a video game or tv, or cart them to the park so they can run as though they are free range, even though you are there chatting with other parents and trying to half-ignore the kids. But they’re not really ignored, so when they wander too far or make someone cry or start picking the flowers in someone else’s garden, you yell at them to stop.

Now I volunteer in Jasper’s 1^st-grade class in school. I stuff folders and get to watch the dynamics, which I enjoy. For the past eight weeks or so, after saying I’d “help” with a math enrichment club, I have also found myself struggling to make a group of 14 or so 1^st-graders play math games and take quizzes. This I do not enjoy. I am there with three other mothers and none of the kids, as far as I can tell, want to be there.

Hugo, who is four, is home with me except for the three mornings a week when he attends preK. We grocery shop and do projects together. We have his friends to our house or meet with other kids and moms at the open gym or a park. I am with my kids all the time and I do feel like a helicopter.

The plus side is huge. I like being home with my kids and am happy that I can be. I went from being someone who never spent any time with kids at all to being someone who has seen almost every different way a child can experience ages 0-7 and all the behaviors, personality differences and developmental stages that come along with it. I do believe this has helped me be a much better parent, because I am constantly learning from people who I think are amazing parents and I also get to figure out, through observation, what I don’t think works in parenting. Through observing my kids in different environments I have also been able to address needs and issues that I might have missed otherwise.

The down side of this “helicopter” life though, is that maybe I see too much. I get to share in all of my kids’ successes and happy moments, but I also observe all of their frustrations and struggles. Whenever I see a problem (whether real or perceived) I jump into action.  As a result we’ve had impromptu tutorials on self-defense, snappy comebacks and conversation openers, discussions about feelings and motivations, book-searches on new subjects of interest, and the list goes on. It’s great, but it’s also exhausting. And I could be doing more. For instance, I haven’t volunteered once in Hugo’s preK this year (I pay good money for the seven hours a week he’s there) and do need a break, after all. And I wonder, is it all too much?

Back when kids went outside to play, knocked on doors to find playmates and returned home at the sound of a dinner bell, they had to rely on themselves much more. They fought more of their own battles, but they also suffered more silently too. I don’t know if it was better, but I do know that everyone I knew accepted the grades they earned in college and suffered the consequences of negotiating their first salary badly.

I wonder when, with all these hovering parents, at what point kids do become self-reliant? Jasper mentioned three fifth-grade boys with admiration today, “mom, they walked home from school without parents!” We are talking about three 10-year old boys walking three blocks without adult supervision. I was out playing on my own all the time when I was five!

One thing is sure, I want my kids to go off to college and then to whatever awaits them after that with an ability to look after themselves. I guess today’s parents’ job is to teach kids these skills while standing right next to them. 

Kittens, recap

 

Lava and Lavender in their new home.

I sent my last post as an email to the Executive Director at Animal Control. To make a long story short, we were allowed to bring the kittens home, on one condition, that we swear to never let them outside. I still disagree with how strict they are and think that a chance at a life with nice, responsible people who will love them is infinitely better than being stuck in a cage and then euthanized.

 

We are very happy to have them and they are great: affectionate, playful, and not at all intimidated by all the love little kids and all their friends can give them. I’ve included a photo. You can tell them apart by their eyes: Lava’s are normal and Lavender has one cloudy eye. We would have like to call her “Cyclops” but the kids didn’t like it and didn’t get it, so Lavender she is.

For the Love of Animals

Now that our children are 4 and 7 years old and old enough to appreciate and help care for a pet, my husband and I thought it would be a good time to get a couple kittens for our family. Our children were thrilled. We looked at the animal control web site, filled out the application, and followed their instructions on bringing the whole family to choose and meet our new pets. We arrived on Saturday, and went from cage to cage, looking at litters of kittens caged together and cats on their own, and so many that it breaks your heart. Although there were many charmers, there were two female siblings that we all fell in love with. We held them, and they snuggled on our boys’ laps. We all decided that these were the ones for us, and took their cards up to the front desk to schedule our interview. After we left the shelter we went to the pet store, and then arrived home loaded with cat litter, food, grooming tools, and toys. Our sons chose names for our new kittens, “Lavender, because it’s a pretty name for the cat,” and “Lava, because the kitten’s fur looks like fiery rocks.” On Wednesday, I arrived for the interview with my youngest son. I was surprised to be greeted and led down the hall by a woman who did not smile. She began asking questions in an accusatory tone that immediately made me defensive as though we were guilty until proven innocent. She grilled me about two cats we had that now live with my husbands’ sisters (they took them when we were going through a time of huge transition). She made me feel as though we had made a horrible choice to find new homes for them, even though we had responsibly found safe and loving homes for them (and would have taken them back but my sisters-in-law wanted to keep them). She asked me our views on having cats declawed, and since we have learned details about this procedure in the past I told her we don’t believe in it (although I could see how someone might not understand what the procedure entails and might say it’s okay to do). She then asked me how I felt about allowing cats outside, and I replied that I think that cats tend to like to go outside and be in nature. She then told me our application has been rejected, and we can’t have the kittens. “What?” I asked, shocked. She told me it is illegal to let cats outside in Frederick County. I told her I’d never heard that, but asked, “what if we are willing to obey the law?”  She replied that she couldn’t believe that we would after my response, and she sent us on our way. I felt that I had been led into a trap.

Needless to say, my children are absolutely devastated and we are utterly stunned. Let’s see, we are very responsible people who hold jobs, volunteer for the PTA and are actively involved in our community. We own a home and have perfect credit scores. We have well-cared for and loved children and a loving home. I am a stay at home mom and my husband often works from home, so any pet in our care would have lots of company, all the time. Almost every aspect of our lives is a reflection of responsible, thoughtful decisions we have made. As my friends said later, “but you guys are the poster people for who should have a pet!” We think so too.

I did some research. It is not illegal for cats to be outside, but they may not leave the property. The people at the veterinary clinic I called did not know this either. Then I read an interesting article in Maryland Newsline Business, dated October 24, 2008*, entitled, “Economic Crisis Hits Home for Pets.” In the article I read, “At Frederick County’s only shelter, pet surrenders are up 10 percent and euthanasia rates are up 18 percent this year over last, said Director Harold Domer. The shelter has a capacity of 241 animals. All of its foster homes are full.” Executive Director Dr. Lizel Salmon stated further, “The shelter is currently over capacity with more than 250 animals needing homes.”

I look at our empty cat food bowls, the unused cat toys and scratching post. I think of Lava and Lavender in a tiny cage in an overcrowded shelter instead of being with a loving family and wonder if a “suitable” family will ever be found for them. I think of how I feel I was tricked with a question few people know the answer to, and how horrible it is that they made my children meet the pets first. I think about the disservice done to my family and those poor little kittens. I think about the statistics I read in the article about how the euthanasia rates are up this year, and hope that that won’t be the fate of the kittens we weren’t allowed to adopt.

Of course I understand the need to protect animals from possible neglect or abuse, but I think a better way to choose adoptive owners is to simply find extremely responsible people who are willing to make the best decisions for the pet and assume responsibility for the pet for the duration of its life. I think it would made sense that good parents would probably be good pet owners, as the responsibilities are similar: to love and care for dependent creatures and make the best decisions possible for them. We are constantly making new decisions about how to parent our children based on new research on what kids should and should not eat, should and should not watch or play with and how they should or should not be disciplined. We would do the same for our kittens and make all the best care decisions for them when presented with laws and current philosophies on what’s best for their wellbeing.

Apparently the Frederick Animal Control center doesn’t agree, and would rather euthanize homeless cats than place them with a family like ours.

* http://www.newsline.umd.edu/business/specialreports/foreclosures/foreclosurepets102408.htm

Growing Up

One of the joys and of course, heartbreaks, of having kids is watching them grow up. It makes me sad that my youngest child is rapidly leaving babyhood behind (he’s almost four)! And today, Jasper wanted to sit on my lap to read a story. He is almost seven, and still very snuggly, but for whatever reason today he just seemed huge. He was heavy, and his body, as I was pulling him on to my lap, felt so thick. I looked down at his hands and was shocked by the long fingers, the fingernails that are almost as big as mine, and by how strong and thick his hands seemed. The skin was even a little rough. I wrapped my arms around his bigger-than-I-remember chest and attempted to peer over, and then around, his head to read the story. It must have been a comical sight, because I felt like I had someone the size of myself on my lap. I probably squeezed him just a little too tight right then, trying to really drink in the moment, just because I still could.

One aspect of them getting a bit older though is that there is more that you can share with them on a higher level. The knowing glances I might exchange with Jim or a friend when I know they are thinking the same thing as me in a social situation or when I know they will find something funny, I can now share with Jasper.

Jim has been traveling so the other day Jasper, Hugo and I were eating dinner together. Hugo said, “mommy, after dinner can we wrestle?” I replied, “oh honey, mommy doesn’t really wrestle, but if you want we can snuggle after dinner.” He thought about that and said, “okay, we can snuggle and then maybe snuggle-wrestle.” Jasper looked very amused and said, “Hugo, what is snuggle-wrestle?” and Hugo answered, “when you snuggle rough!” Right after which point he hopped up on the chair behind me and grabbed my shoulders and started yanking them back and forth. It was so sudden and silly and unexpected that Jasper and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing. We laughed and laughed and Hugo just kept yanking my shoulders, laughing too. Jasper was giggling so hard that he could hardly breathe and every now and again would squeak out a “snuggle rough! Ha, ha, ha, ha,” and I had tears in my eyes unable to stop giggling and to stop Hugo from shaking my shoulders. Then, Hugo lost his balance and plummeted to the floor and landed with a huge THUD. Jasper and I glanced down at him, and it was clear he wasn’t hurt and we burst out laughing again. Hugo, who is practically made of bricks, enjoyed how entertaining he was obviously being and started laughing again too.

I thoroughly enjoyed just cracking up like that with my kids, but also really enjoyed how although we were all laughing together, Jasper and I were able to share how funny we thought Hugo was. Hugo is a really funny little kid. He is expressive and enthusiastic and earnest, and is at a stage where he is constantly misusing language and trying to sound authoritative. For adults, he can be just hilarious to be around, but I love how more and more, Jasper appreciates and gets a kick out of his little brother just the way his father and I do.

 

I feel a little sad every time I trade their clothes or shoes for the next size up, and sometimes I miss having a little baby to hold, but I am also really looking forward to seeing what kind of people they turn into as they grow up and have our bonds evolve from hands-on care to intellectual connections.  

Boys, again

I know I’ve written about having boys in the past, but it continues to be a source of fascination and confusion for me to be mother to two of them. One of the most difficult realizations I have had to make is that when I am watching a group of boys in action, I am utterly at a loss of how to interpret what I see. What I think I see is a group of mean, wild animals. I see two boys grab another boy, whip him around and fling him down. I see that boy (perhaps my son) get up fiercely and grab one of the perpetrators and spin him and toss him to the ground. I see those same boys chase another and tackle him to the ground. “How horrible!” I think. I must intervene. They must be miserable and someone is sure to get hurt! But then, just as I feel confident that I have assessed the situation accurately and that someone must intervene, I see all the boys involved laughing, and then my son, who I thought might be scarred for life by the mistreatment, literally skipping away with a big smile on his face. I listen to friends with older boys say, “oh, I don’t get involved unless there’s blood.”

“Okay,” I think. “I didn’t really read that situation correctly. I guess they like playing that way, I guess that’s their idea of fun.” The next time I see similar play I feign a laid-back attitude. “Oh sure,” I tell myself, “that’s just the way boys play, they love this kind of thing.” I stand back and smile as I watch the boys pounce on each other. But wait! There’s a boy crying, he got hurt. “I want to go home!” I hear him shriek. Once again, I got it wrong. I truly never, ever know whether what I see when boys play is: a) really great; b)okay, but could turn ugly; or c) horrible and requires intervention right away.

It’s more challenging for me because even though my oldest, Jasper, is almost seven, I’ve really only see boys play like this for the last year or so. Prior to this, most of his playmates were girls. His basic nature is very calm, so watching him enter this world and interact with it fills me with trepidation. Deep down I don’t feel that he’s really equipped to deal with all the roughness, especially when so many of the boys are older than him, but it’s interesting to see that he more or less stands his ground. It’s also been interesting to observe that when things get really rough, he tends to go off on his own. This happened today, and when I saw him off, way off, playing by himself, I went over to him, sure he would be upset and wanting to go home. When he saw me he said, “we don’t have to go home now, do we?” “No,” I tried to say casually. “Because I’m having fun and don’t want to go yet.” I wasn’t prepared for what he said, but didn’t want him to know what I had been thinking because I didn’t want to influence the situation. He told me that two boys tried to throw him in the bushes, and two tried to defend him. He said that one kid in particular is always mean. We discussed various possible ways of handling the situation. He didn’t really seem upset though, just content to play on his own for a while. I was sad that although there was a big group of kids playing together, he was alone. I was worried that maybe he wasn’t fitting in. My husband had a different take on it—he thinks it’s great that Jasper isn’t willing to be anyone’s punching bag. If it gets too mean or he’s the target of the cruelty, he would rather go off by himself.

I can appreciate his reasoning, but I do still wonder if he’s “fitting in” in the boy world. I wonder if he’s as tough as he needs to be. Honestly, I can’t, by observing, tell whether he is or not.

I know I won’t worry about Hugo as much. He’s almost four and seems to instinctively love the rough and tumble play. He always leaps on top of the boy pile, even if the kids are four or five years older than him. He has a high tolerance for pain and doesn’t seem to take things personally. I know I’ll be more used to this kind of play as he gets older too.

It always makes me wonder though, as the kids get older, will it be more of the same? I think of how girls have deep friendships and share their feelings. I see how Jasper has deep friendships with his female friends. I have never understood male friendships, but it sort of seems like they hang out and do activities and beat on each other, and then, over time, decide who the “good guys” are that they really like and trust. I will never be part of that world, but I do hope that over time I can watch them interact, and understand a little more about what I’m seeing. Maybe I would get a little more sleep. 

A Blip In Time

I was having a chat with my parents the other day about plastic surgery, and mostly about the horror of poorly done face-lifts or people that have had too many, and consequently look like scary wax statues from a creep show and not like real people any more. I was trying to not be overly judgmental since I’m not yet forty and don’t know how I’ll feel about all this 20 years down the line and try to avoid being a possible hypocrite in the future by condemning something that I don’t know how I’ll feel about then. I said to my parents, “well, I don’t know how I will feel since I’m still sort of youngish” to which they instantaneously responded, rather fiercely, “you’re not even 40! You’re very young! If you live to be 95, 40 is very young!” I will admit, a flash of what I might possibly look like after aging another 55 years did pass in front of my eyes (and a face lift, even a bad one, didn’t seem like such a bad option), but more, I thought about all that time I potentially have left in life to live, and, of course, work. And this brings me back to a frequent obsession of mine, which is, will I ever be able to re-enter the work force? This concern just paralyzes me sometimes, and often because I think of graphic design as such a young, hip, field. I feel that approaching 40 almost guarantees a degree of obsolescence in the field, and that maybe I should go hang out with 40-year old Hollywood actresses that can’t get work any more or can only get roles being cast as Keira Knightly’s mother or a bitter old alcoholic nun.

However, my husband keeps pointing out that in less than two years I will have a LOT more time, and consequently will be able to work more, or work on building a business, and it’s really, really unlikely that nothing would ever happen on that front. It seems really unlikely that I will sit there for 53 years or so without being able to find any interesting employment whatsoever. Even older people, who often own companies, need graphic designers. And they may actually prefer working with someone who can spell because I have not spent my youth TM-ing people and does not have a nose ring or my parents negotiating my hourly rate for me.

I am realizing what a blip all this is, having children that are really young. Jasper, at almost 7, is starting to exit the “really young” phase and in a few years Hugo will be almost 7 too, and although we will still be parents until our time on Earth is done, we will not have “really little” kids ever again. So, I will try to live in the present (I try this every so often) and enjoy my little kids and the time I have with them. In a couple years I hope that I can resume my career, or perhaps one day even switch to a new one. The time I spent minimally employed will be hard to remember 5, 10 or 45 years down the road. I won’t regret the time I spent with my kids way back when, though I wonder if I will be reminiscing about these years with an oddly waxen expression on my face. 

Am I a Hormone Puppet?

I don’t love to think that I am ruled by by hormones, but I am realizing I need to admit this is true. What else can explain why no important factors actually change from day to day in my life, but the way I VIEW it all can be radically different one day to the next. Just take my last post. I was irritable, cranky, quite bitchy and rather depressed there for a few days. Suspiciously, at the same time, a few rather large and oddly-placed pimples appeared on my face. There is the one over my lip that looks like a cold sore, the little pimple group on my chin, and a couple in the middle of my cheek, that are all just starting to scab and fade away today. And gosh, I’m feeling better. As my pimples disappear my mood lightens and I feel a little lift in my step. Was I really not finding much pleasure in my kids the other day? Today I think they’re wonderful!

It’s times like this that I’m happy that I have boys. I am surrounded by men, and although us mothers seem destined to be thought of as crazy by our children (and I’m pretty sure it’s because of the hormones), I’m hoping that my boys will be a little more forgiving than an equally hormonal daughter might be. There’s the reality that they simply don’t get it. Repetitive noises are making mommy scream for some reason today, but the boys just shrug their shoulders and eye me with curiosity and confusion. Then the husband wanders through the room, making a wide arc around me, and I just know they are waiting until “normal mommy/wife” comes back and the lunatic that looks like mommy leaves again.

It stinks, because if you admit to being ruled by hormones then you admit to not having complete control. I don’t know why I feel like yelling, “go away!” every time someone comes near me in the kitchen, and I didn’t really feel like that last week and won’t next, but there is nothing I can do about the fact that right now I could throw a tantrum that would impress a three-year old. So, I comfort myself knowing that I usually act the way I would consider normal, the way other people and my family members expect me to act, and then the raging, blood-shot eyed freak that I become only appears every once in a while, sort of like if mommy turns into a werewolf every full moon.

I have been saying for years that I need to record these moods, so I can figure out when to expect them and see if there is a pattern. I’m not sure what exactly I could do about the onset though, it’s not like I can book myself a three-day spa visit every month. Even though I haven’t kept track, I don’t think my moods are consistent. And my periods keep changing. A few months ago I was certain I was hemorrhaging to death, and the doctor informed me that such occurrences are normal in women around age 40. “But I’m only 38!” I insisted, but she ignored my comment and said these changes are part of aging. That hurt. I also think that it’s harder to deal with “the werewolf” when she comes and invades my body, because I can’t be alone these days just because I want to be. The werewolf isn’t really all bad, she just isn’t good around people. In years past, I can thank the werewolf for the incredible cleaning frenzies that left even the top of the refrigerator sparkling. The werewolf was certainly responsible for all the bulk items being poured into glass jars and neatly labeled with Sharpie Markers. The werewolf likes to get things done. But the werewolf does not like distractions, is not patient, reasonable or sweet, and the werewolf does not have much of a sense of humor.

So, if I can’t tame the hormone werewolf, what can I do with her? She’s not here now, but I am absolutely certain she will visit again in a month or two. I can put videos on in an endless loop for the kids or call a sitter, which might help, but no matter what I still have daily responsibilities to perform and life must go on. Maybe I can just make a sign and when I am feeling a certain way I can hang up the “werewolf on duty” sign so my family knows just what to expect.

I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the bit of sanity that my current hormone levels are affording me at the moment and put some zit cream on the last few straggler pimples on my face. 

Sick of Your Kids?

That’s not really something you’re ever supposed to say, is it, that you’re sick of your kids? I mean, aren’t we supposed to gaze on our precious little treasures every day with renewed awe and adoration?

But, I’ll admit it, I am totally sick of my kids. It doesn’t help that my entire family of four was away together non-stop for six weeks. And I’ve been together non-stop with my kids for the last 1 ½ weeks since we’ve been back. I can feel the hair on my body bristle at every whiny note in their voices. I’m a little worried about the next week together non-stop before school starts.

Whatever it is that makes my kids so utterly themselves right now is just a little too much for me to bear. The poop and fart jokes are really old, and my three-year old’s obsession with his penis is really, really old. The three-year old, Hugo, has three distinct personalities (I hope this won’t be a problem down the road): the “I’m still a little baby and can’t do anything” personality, the “I’m tired and can’t hear you or follow directions” personality, and the “man of the house” personality where he talks in a low voice and offers to carry heavy things and “help.” Right now, I am only enjoying his third personality. My older son, Jasper, doesn’t have such specific, distinct personalities, but he is very moody and overly sensitive. It is driving me crazy how much he can play the victim or get so upset when his much smaller younger brother tries to steal a lego from him or says something outrageous and obviously untrue like, “I saw a bird as big as daddy eat a goat in the park.” His bookishness is driving me a little nuts too—he would rather stick his face in any Audubon book than do almost anything else. And he follows me around the house telling me obscure facts about volcanos, tree frogs, birds and tree bark.

Even the boys differences are annoying me. We went for a bike ride this evening. Hugo was on his own bike, and Jasper, who is six, sat in the bike trailer and read a book. How can I have two children who are so different?

Oh, but I hate feeling this way. I know that recently I looked at them with genuine admiration for their quirks and differences. Now I find myself having thoughts like, “boarding school might be a nice option,” and “gosh, divorced people that live near each other can have the perfect arrangement—one week with the kids, one week without.” I am trying to find a way to recapture that feeling of delight at who they are, and the awareness that they’re growing so quickly and I need to appreciate it now. I think a nice, long break from them would help. I guess I just have to wait until school starts.