I'd Like to Introduce My Daughter, Rupert

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

We did a little problem-solving at our latest Family Conference, and our solution is so amusing that I absolutely must share it.

Most of us parents have had the following experience when trying to get a child's attention: "Morgan? Morgan? . . . Moooorgaaaaannn . . . Morgan! . . . MORGAN! Aaagggghhhh!"

Right? It's common. They are watching television, or reading a book, or listening to their own inner voices, or generally can't be bothered by what you might have to say because you're only Mom [insert eye-roll here]. It's frustrating because it's no fair when people aren't paying you a lick of attention when you have Something Very Important to Say.

Morgan has this problem, only a few standard deviations away from the norm. If you know her in real life, you understand what I mean. She very often simply isn't aware of, oh, you know . . . the outside world and so this is a problem. A Big Problem for all of us (Brendan has this problem with her, too). We parents (and others) are frustrated in our attempts to get her attention, and she is unhappy to suddenly reawaken to find angry yelling people in her face. And that's how Brendan describes the experience (for Morgan is his child in oh-so-many ways)--you're off, happy in your own Happy Thought Land, and then Suddenly! Without Warning! BLLLLAAARRRRGGGGH! People are screaming your name and are mad.

We've had talks and discussions. We've made plans. I take care to get in her field of vision and touch her shoulder or arm before I speak. Even that has only spotty success. Yes, you can be kneeling down in front of her, hand on her arm, speaking to her and looking directly in her eyes . . . and she can still not be paying attention. I am not making this up.

Also, sometimes I just can't get in her field of vision or touch her. Sometimes I need to get her attention when I'm driving or when she's gone the wrong way around the car in a parking lot and I'm looking for her. I need to be able to call her name and have her A.) Notice, and B.) Respond. I'm just sayin'.

Is this temperamental or learned behavior? I suspect it's temperamental primarily (having lived with Brendan for many years, there's definitely a genetic link here). But I worry that by not helping her figure out how to Notice and Respond that I'm enabling this somehow. Plus, it's really frustrating, as I've mentioned.

So we're trying something new! In the Family Conference, she was perfectly happy to acknowledge that this is a challenge, and she readily agreed that yes indeedy, she sure hates to get surprised by a frustrated Mom or Dad who'd been calling for her. I can't remember who suggested this--Morgan, I think--but the idea was floated that maybe there could be a code word that would get her attention. (We're all into espionage lately, invisible ink, international intrigue, etc. due to a recent foray into classic James Bond films.)

Now part of me thinks the code word ought to be 'Morgan' but as that clearly has been unsuccessful, we decided to give it a try. Her first suggestion was for us to spell her name out M-O-R-G-A-N. We thought maybe that was kind of long, and not such secret code-y. What else? She suggested a couple of other things, like maybe dog or puppy (shocker!).

I suggested that the word ought to be something that she's not at all used to hearing, or perhaps, just silly. Something like that would help get her attention. I pointed to our big black gargoyle, who presides over the household gods on our mantelpiece.

See? There he is.

"What about gargoyle?" I suggested.

She didn't like gargoyle, but promptly suggested the gargoyle's name: Rupert! Hilarious!

We role-played a few times, with Brendan and me saying "Rupert!" and Morgan responding "What?" And we laughed and laughed because it is so silly. :o) We agreed to try this for a week and then discuss whether or not it's been helpful. So far, it has been helpful, though I tend to forget to use it.

So now you know why you might hear me say "Morgan? Morgan? RUPERT!" And I don't even care, as long as she'll respond to me in a parking lot!

Grocery Store Math

(originally posted at Rational Jenn)

I have something exciting to share with you--the last few trips to the grocery store with the kids have been, well . . . actually FUN. Before I tell you just why that is, allow me to describe a typical grocery store scene.

Sean usually rides in the cart, as he is the least trustworthy and most likely to cause lasting damage. (It's a close call, between him and Morgan, but he's the one who needs to be in the cart. I think.) We always start off fine--I've got my list, I've laid down the law set kind and firm limits about what I will and will not buy, will and will not do, and will and will not put up with during the trip.

Everyone agrees to the general plan, and apparently I am an idiot because I will often feel good about our prospects for a smooth grocery store run, suffering as I do from Grocery Store Amnesia (similar to Pregnancy Amnesia). Which is pretty funny if you think about it, as I go to the grocery store every three days, and seem to only have kids every three years. You'd think frequency would lessen the effects of GSA, but maybe it's even more powerful than amnesia caused by pregnancy. Hmph.

We wander in, Morgan on one side of the cart, Ryan on the other. We'll pick up the first few items, when suddenly the cart will veer off to the right, as M acts as a wayward rudder due to her grip on the side of the cart.

"Don't pull the cart off to the side, please!" I'll say, kindly and firmly, still in the grip of Amnesia. "Okay, Mom!" says she. Lulled by this sense of actual connection, we keep heading onward . . . toward destiny.

Okay, now we're in the produce section, and suddenly a fight breaks out between Ryan and Morgan over who gets to choose which kind of apple to buy. "Hey, we can get a couple kinds of apples!" I say, encouragingly, and because I'm still filled with patience and kindness. We work out a plan for apples (or whatever kind of fruit or veggie they were wanting) and move on.

Morgan steers the cart toward a little old lady. "Morgan! Watch where you're going!" M: . . . I try again. "Morgan? Morgan? Morgan! MORGAN!" M, surprised to hear her name: "Huh?" "M, watch where you're going! You nearly pulled the cart into that lady!" "But Mom! Did you see the lobsters?"

We all (except for me, a life-long hater of lobsters) stop and admire the lobsters.

Moving on, as I'm loading things into the cart, Ryan has now suddenly decided that the side of the cart M had been walking along was actually the one he wanted, and executes a coup. M complains for a minute, then switches to the other side. Sean, as if on cue, reaches over and pulls her hair.

I extricate M from Sean's grip, pat Sean on the back to soothe his cries as his right to pull Morgan's hair has been violated (as Ryan helpfully points out), and try to check things off my grocery list at the same time (the list is on my iPhone). Sean notices my iPhone and screams for it, just as Morgan accidentally knocks several items off a shelf, as she'd been walking down ahead of the cart with her arms outspread and, you know, actually touching the items on the shelf. I chuck the iPhone at Sean and help M pick up the boxes of whatever, when Ryan starts freaking out "Morgan! Morgan! What did she touch? Did it have peanuts in it? Blaaaaahhhhhhhgggg!"

I try to explain "It's safe, Ryan. She knocked over bags of flour/packages of diapers/the entire spice rack/etc." To no avail. He is now convinced she is contaminated with peanuts and shrieks like a banshee if she gets within three feet of him. Just for fun, Sean reaches down and pulls her hair again.

I'm only halfway through my list now, and start jogging down the aisles, tossing items into the basket (after reading the labels of course!) and trying to check the screen on my iPhone (which Sean is waving in the air over his head) to determine which items are absolutely necessary (wine) and which ones I can buy later, preferably at a time when I can ditch leave the kids with Brendan and come back to the store by myself.

Morgan, still crying from the latest hair-pulling and because she can't keep up with how fast I'm going, gets confused and accidentally turns the other way and manages to get halfway down the meat aisle before realizing that nobody is with her. She panics, not hearing me call her name or seeing me standing there (for I have noticed her detour), and starts to SCREAM.

Meanwhile, Ryan is still complaining that Morgan might have touched something with peanuts in it (no matter how I reassure him she didn't), and Sean has called everyone in the contact list on my iPhone. I decide to eff the rest of the grocery list, and consider developing a religion so I might have someone to pray to in order to get through the checkout line without losing my temper, or without Morgan or Sean actually grabbing something that DOES have peanuts in it, thereby causing Ryan to have some sort of screaming spaz* (or worse, a reaction) in the checkout lane. We finally leave, having purchased only two-thirds of the list, and I vow to NEVER DO THIS AGAIN. Until three days later.

But this, THIS! scenario hasn't happened lately, and THAT was actually the whole point of this post, but I got a little carried away there. :o)

Our latest grocery store trips have been lots of fun, and it's all because of Math. I know, MATH!

I've always tried to tally up what I'm buying, so as not to be surprised in the checkout lane. (I'm not really one for surprises as a general rule.) In the last six months I've endeavored to be a real stickler for this practice, as I'm carefully watching our money almost like I've never done before. So take the above scenario, imagine me frustrated even more because all of the altercations make me forget how much I've spent so far, and . . . that's not good.

So guess what I did? I involved the big kids! (Seanie still gets the iPhone . . . for now.) I started saying my tally out loud, and saying things like "Hmmm. . . this item is $5.50. I've already spent $32, so how much is that?" And one time, someone piped up with "$37.50!" Conceive of my surprise and delight!

I started making it into a game, and both big kids started joining in. Sometimes things get a little heated when someone is a bit quicker at the mental math than the other, so we work out a deal--M can take this question and Ryan takes the next. Morgan is usually quicker than Ryan, but he has a better grasp on the concepts and can add more quickly when carrying is necessary (such as $39 + $12) because he is able to rearrange and group the numbers into 10s and re-form the problem into $40 + $11.

Oh. My. Goodness. This is so cool. Of course, they get good math practice, and think it's fun! Also, I get help keeping tabs on what I'm spending. I can also show them how much cash I have on hand, or tell them my budget for that trip, and we can make sure we stay within it. If we're getting close to our budget, they don't pester me for extra items, and Ryan will often warn me against buying much else. We talk about other ways to change the equation around. They understand (and sometimes I'll actually point this out) how darn useful math can be, and are motivated to learn more. And now Sean will shout "67!" after the others shout it--he's paying attention and beginning to learn, too.

And apparently, doing mental math is so interesting/fun/helpful to Mom/what-have-you that there's just no energy left for walking down the aisles with arms stretched out, or arguing about who was walking on which side of the cart first. (For now.)

It's so surreal! And lovely. Wow, I hope it lasts.


*For the record, the grocery store is a harrowing place for a kid with a severe food allergy to go, so I don't blame him one little bit for being nervous. I do, however, blame him just a teensy bit for thinking I would cavalierly saunter up and down the aisles if he were in actual danger. But he'll outgrow that. I hope. :o)

Sense of Humor Update

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

Here's the most important thing I learned about using a sense of humor as a parenting tool--it's really hard to pull off convincingly if I'm irritated! The second most important thing: don't overuse it (or any tool) to distract them from their emotions. It's okay for them to have Big Feelings, and I don't want them to get the idea that their Big Feelings (especially the so-called negative ones) are wrong to have somehow.

This tool works best when I am not overly emotional about whatever needs to happen, and when the kids aren't too far gone either. If Ryan has crossed over the line into Wig Out Mode, making jokes and singing songs just isn't going to work. Morgan is a little more amenable to the idea, but again, too much lightheartedness in a serious situation can backfire.

We had lots of fun this week singing! I tend to make up silly songs (my friend Kelly is genius at it), but this week I made up TONS of songs. The crowd favorite--fake opera.

"Pleeeeaaase locate your SHOOOOOEEESSS! We need to GO!"

Garners a response from Ryan: "I don't know where they are, where they are, where they AAARRRRREEEE!!!"

"The last time I saw them they were in the PLAAAAAAYYYY rrroooooommmmm!"

"Thank you very MUCH! I found them!"

Hard to describe in writing, but I hope you get the point! Seriously. Opera. Highly recommended. Be warned that any other adults in your neighborhood or in the grocery store may be very surprised by this behavior, though. Just hit a high note and move on. Either they'll get it, or they won't. But I'm not going to let them spoil my fun!

Another favorite game around here is Army. (I know, shocker.) I had a whole little Army Corps of Engineers working on a disaster clean up project (the playroom), marching and shouting orders and saluting me. Even the baby was marching around and shouting "GUH!" Which I took to mean "Yes sir!" Totally adorable, btw. I very much need to remember this Army Rescuing a Disaster Area Game. Very. Much.

I'll put up the next Tool Card later today. We're leaving on Friday for our annual beach vacation, so I'm extra busy this week. Bye for now!

PD Tool Card: Sense of Humor

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

This week, I'm going to be focusing on parenting with my sense of humor engaged. I generally enjoy being playful and having fun, but it's sometimes difficult to remember that humor is a very effective way to mitigate potential parenting disasters.

Here's an image of the Sense of Humor Tool Card (found at this website):


I consider Games and Fun part of this category, too. There's a great book called Playful Parenting by Lawrence J. Cohen, which I highly recommend if you're looking for more ideas to "lighten up."

Here are a few examples of things I've done in the past with the kids (many of which I first read about and/or adapted from Cohen's Playful Parenting book):

• Pretending shock and horror that someone is doing something that I really want to encourage (such as using the potty or eating broccoli). "Stop! Nooooooo! Don't eat that or you'll be healthy and strong!" This is a big hit around here.

• Generally, giving any sort of contrary instructions in a playful manner is typically met with giggling and even sometimes, compliance! "Do NOT put your shoes on or your feet will be protected from the rocks and the sun!" In the comments of this recent post over at Kelly's blog, she recommends using a version of this technique to diffuse a situation between siblings.

• Games such as Race to the Potty and Who Can Put Five Things Away Before the Timer Goes Off? They are a fun way to take care of mundane/uninteresting jobs. I do not recommend any race game where children are racing against each other, though. Race only against a timer or a parent who can lose graciously or in a silly way. Otherwise your playful moment may disintegrate into tears because someone lost the Search for the Remote Control Game.

• Role-reversal is a fun way to connect with kids. Nothing pleases kids more (well, MY children anyway) than getting to boss an adult around. It's a very empowering feeling, I think. So when it's time to go somewhere, for example, I will tell the kids "Okay, we need to go in five minutes. What should I do?" And they will boss boss boss boss boss me. It's kind of fun. A related game is the Pretend I'm Stupid Game, and "forget" where the forks go, or how to open up jars or containers, or how to find the grocery store. Good times.
  

• Similarly, role-playing is fun, too. It's also an excellent way to find out what they're thinking or to work through tough emotions. When Ryan was small, we role-played the Time the Paramedic Peopleguys Came to our House (for his peanut reaction). We also role-played Mom Always Comes Back in preparation for my hospital stay when Morgan was born. You regular blog readers will not be surprised to learn that this role-playing stuff really connects with Ryan, and not so much with Morgan.

• Rough play. I know a few families who frown upon rough play, but I think it's a great activity for a child to do with an adult (obviously kid-to-kid rough play is a bit different). When a kid is jumping all over Daddy, they're both laughing, working out some excess energy, and probably doing some role-reversal (Dad pretends to be weak so the kid can bowl him over, for example). But it's also a great way for kids to learn about limits. When things get too rough, Dad will know how to stop the play and say "That's too rough. Go softer or we'll have to stop." And then the kid gets a do-over. If he's just not able to calm down, then the adult can say "You're having a hard time stopping and I don't want to get hurt. Let's stop this game for now and try again another time."

A word about tickling, since it's mentioned on the card above--I am personally not too big on tickling. Or let me rephrase that--I personally HATE being tickled. I enjoy tickling my kids, but I always make sure they've used the potty recently are okay with tickling games and always always ALWAYS stop when they ask for it or seem overwhelmed. Tickling can be fun, but I don't like feeling out of control and that's how I feel when tickled. (And I'm in charge of my body, so I get to say if it gets tickled or not!)

For me, the challenge with humor is not that I don't have it--it's that I don't have it in heated moments. I'm sure this is true for many parents. Every once in a while, I'll start yelling about something and then switch to something silly in mid-rant, such as "I'm tired of cleaning up the . . . why am I yelling about this? That's very crazy and no good way to solve a problem! Maybe I should just do a silly dance instead!" The kids go from being amazed at my loud voice, to giggling and very much more willing to help me solve my problem! Funny, huh? So I'm going to work hard to do more of that this week.

What are some of your best ideas for parenting with a sense of humor?

Some Days I Struggle

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

Merriam-Webster online provides two definitions of the word obstinate:

1 : perversely adhering to an opinion, purpose, or course in spite of reason, arguments, or persuasion <obstinate resistance to change>

2 : not easily subdued, remedied, or removed <obstinate fever>

I have an OBSTINATE little girl.

"Really?" you may be thinking to yourself, "Not the sweetie-honey-cutie-honey-sweetie!" (That is her Daddy's favorite nickname for her--it's a Cutie Sandwich you see, with honey spread on both sides and sandwiched in between some sweeties. Yes, they are obnoxiously lovey with each other. :o) )

And I am here to tell you YES. Yes, the sweetie-honey-cutie-honey-sweetie. Oh hell yes.

Even many of you who know Miss Morgan in Real Life may not have seen this side of her very often, if at all. She's generally quite easy-going, about 99% of the time. But wow. That other 1% of the time--she is IMMOVABLE. Obstinate. And it's been very hard for me to keep my patience with her lately.

So this morning, I asked myself this question: What do I know about this child? And came up with the following:

• She is focused, especially inwardly;

• is very smart;

• loves to help out;

• wants to be left alone when she is thinking something over;

• wants to be left alone when she is sad or angry;

• has a good sense of humor;

• is easily overwhelmed by too much information;

• it's very difficult to break her outside of herself sometimes to get her full attention;

• yet pays attention when I least expect it;

• and she communicates a fair amount, but I suspect there is much more going on in her head than she chooses to let on.

Then I tried to find a tool in my Parenting Toolbox that would help me communicate and solve problems more effectively with her.

She doesn't care for role playing, because I think it's too private or intense for her. She doesn't like to discuss problems or solutions for more than a few minutes. She seems to want to get any discussions over with as quickly as possible so she can return to her own thoughts and pursuits. Distraction or changing the subject is out, because she is way too persistent for that.

I think what I need to work on is boiling down MY words (oh so hard to do!) to just the bare essentials. I need to ask her for her ideas, and I need to use more "playful parenting" to take advantage of her sense of humor (now where did I put that book?). And what I mostly need to remember is that she actually can't hear me sometimes and that the best way to get her attention is to touch her and get in her field of vision, and then just wait.

And when she's done being obstinate, she goes right back into Cutie Sandwich mode. I need to remember that, too! :o)

This post has been brought to you by one very frustrating week.

Find the Funny

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

I had one of those days today. It was the kind of day where that bottle of wine in the fridge taunted me every time I went in there to get someone a juice box or the strawberry jam. (I didn't succumb--I need every last one of my wits about me when I'm the lone responsible adult.)

So after a while of dealing with crazy frustrating children (whom I adore and are super-cute, of course!), I started to try to Find The Funny in my day. It's a very helpful way for me to remember why I took this mommy gig in the first place.

Here's something funny--me, trying to walk out the door! You don't fully appreciate this simple action before you have kids. When you don't have kids, and you need to go somewhere, here's what you do: grab your keys, maybe a jacket, get in the car, and leave. Aahh, now THOSE were the days!

Here's a general idea of what it takes to get me and the three kids out the door.

T - 60 minutes: I mentally go through my Going Somewhere Checklist to identify things that could be done right away. Usually, there's not much that can be done this far in advance, but I will try to make a guess as to when Sean will need to eat next, and if it's any time in the next 2 hours, I'll see if he needs to eat.

T - 58 minutes: Put screaming, offended baby down, as he clearly didn't want to eat.

T - 57 minutes: Do dishes or something else constructive (like write on the blog or Facebook!).

T - 45 minutes: Start gathering up crap for my big bag, such as diapers, wipes, snacks, drinks, my wallet, money (ha!), 9,000 soldier peopleguys, cell phone, car keys, hat for the baby, extra outfit for the baby, extra outfit for Morgan (just in case she "forgets" the potty), the Leapster, pens, pencils, notepads, Epi-pens, bottle of wine drink for me (if applicable), toys for the baby, 9,000 teeny tiny puppies, and a partridge in a pear tree. If we're heading to swimming, the list is even longer.

T - 35 minutes: I begin to sound the warnings: "Hey everyone! We're leaving for Ballet/Chess/Etc. in 15 minutes!" Since they have no concept of time yet, I could say "4862 zillion minutes" and it would mean the same thing to them, which is "Huh? Did Mom say something?"

T - 25 minutes: Sean needs to eat suddenly. So I get him going, and think, great--we've still got time. Only now, I have to orchestrate the Ryan and Morgan logistics while nursing and I can't move, which makes things difficult, because they know they have me. Also, I probably shouldn't talk during this logistical operation, since every sound I utter makes Sean pop off and grin at me. Which is cute, but really annoying all at the same time, since later, when I'm driving the car, he'll decide he's really really hungry and it will be all my fault.

T - 20 minutes: Tell Morgan that it's time to try the potty. Tell Ryan it's time for him to find his shoes. Lather, rinse, and repeat.

T - 18 minutes: Put the non-nursing baby down and physically put Morgan on the potty. Both children are now screaming hysterically at me. Ryan is off in Ryan-land, having battles with peopleguys. His explosion noises add to the volume.

T - 17 minutes: Put my hand on Ryan's shoulder and wait for him to look at me, so as to provide myself with the illusion that I have his attention, and then tell him to "Go. Get. Your. Shoes." He drops his toys and runs off. I am temporarily deluded into thinking that I'm making progress.

T - 15 minutes: Locate Ryan in the kitchen, where he has apparently begun laying out the makings of a 5 course meal. Ask about shoes and receive blank look in return. Remind him that we are going to X and we'll be bringing snacks, whereupon he insists on an exact accounting of all said snacks and evidently believes that he and he alone is the veto-holder in the snack realm. I take a deep breath, consciously choose NOT to engage in this particular battle, and tell him to choose something he thinks he would like and put it in my bag, and then "go find your shoes."

T - 10 minutes: Sean has had a complete and utter diaper FAIL. Strip him naked, send Ryan for a diaper, realize I haven't seen Morgan in a while, all at the same time.

T - 9 minutes: Start calling Morgan's name. She has evidently gone completely deaf. Throw diaper on Sean and send Ryan to find his shoes.

T - 8 minutes: Find Morgan A) in the pantry--which has no light, she just stands in there in complete darkness, B) starting up a computer game, or C) hiding under a table which means that she really needs to get to the potty now (she's still not quite over that New Baby Potty Regression Phase--she just needs to know that I'm really super truly serious about this potty thing, and so must test and test and test and test).

T - 7.5 minutes: Put Morgan on the potty and run upstairs to find an outfit for Sean. Find Ryan in his room playing with LEGO. The socks he had been wearing have mysteriously disappeared. When asked about this, he claims that I told him to take off his socks and cannot believe that I had ever once asked him to put on his shoes. Hmph.

T - 7 minutes: Make Ryan cry with impatient "Get your shoes on NOW!" and dash downstairs to find Morgan, completely naked and unwiped, doing ballet moves in the bathroom. Sean has fallen over and gotten stuck next to the ottoman and is screaming into a puddle of his own drool.

T - 6 minutes: Sean is upright and half-clothed, Morgan all wiped and supposedly washing her hands. Ryan zips through the family room at full-speed and out the back door onto the deck, leaving the door wide open. Err?

T - 5 minutes: Sean and Morgan are clothed and playing together on the floor of the family room. I go outside to figure out what happened to Ryan and only then realize that I'm still in my pajamas! I check to see where he is and decide to leave him there while I go up and change. Decide that Morgan and Sean would not be safe together for too long (not ill-intentioned, but she is only 3 and her lovin' is the rough kind), so I scoop Sean up, tell Morgan where I'm going, and head upstairs.

T - 4 minutes: Comforting sobbing Morgan, who thought I had left her "forever" because she didn't hear me when I told her I was going upstairs. Sean is sad, too, because he's a sensitive soul. Still need to get dressed.

T - 2 minutes: Feeling good, now, we're gonna make it. Morgan, Sean, and I are all dressed, bag is packed. Yup, we're good.

T - 1 minute: Call Ryan in from backyard. He comes in, covered with mud. And no shoes. Send him up up UP hurry UP to change. Make sure there's a backup pair of shoes in the car.

T + 3 minutes: Ryan is hysterical, because he can't find his SHOES and how can I expect him to find his shoes when I never give him enough time to find his shoes and why does he have so many shoes anyway and why won't I help him find his shoes, BLAH! I (semi) calmly tell him that I know there are backups in the car. Not helping, as evidently he HATES those shoes and they're not soldier/archaeologist/peopleguy du jour shoes and therefore he can't wear them.

T + 5 minutes: Figure it's time to get out of the house before I explode, so finally load Sean up into his carseat. Start loading things into the car. Ryan is still having a fit about the Unfairness of Life or somesuch (I'm beginning to learn to tune such stuff out). Can't find Morgan. Crap.

T + 6 minutes: Find Morgan in the kitchen fixing herself a snack of milk and ketchup and let's just say she's not afraid of spilling. Wipe up what I can, and try to ascertain whether the milk she's spilled onto herself will begin to smell by the time we leave wherever we're going. If not, I don't change her shirt and pick her up and strap her in the car. Sean is screaming by this point, as he is always freaked whenever he's in the car and it's not actually moving. Ryan is still sniffling and Never Going To Listen To Me Again.

And here we are, only 10 minutes late getting out the door!

This wasn't my exact day, only a general approximation of each and every single time I need to leave the house. :o) You should really be amazed that I get ANYWHERE EVER, let alone on time.

Yes, I do like my little Find the Funny trick! Very cathartic! This post is dedicated to any parent who has lost their kid's shoes on purpose just to make him mad. :o)

Tough Questions

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit over this.

CNN, in conjunction with Real Simple Magazine, has an article up that gives parents advice on how to answer six tough questions that may come from their kids. Here are the six questions:

• Why didn't I get invited to that party?
• Where do people go when they die?
• How do thunder and lightning work?
• Where do rainbows come from?
• Why do we have to move?

You'll have noticed that there are only 5 questions . . . oops. That sixth one must be something all right! (Unless they're considering the thunder/lightning question a two-fer?)

I was glad to see that anything sex-related wasn't listed--that is a tired stereotype, that talking with kids about sex per se is "tough." Or perhaps I've been inured to it somewhat, what with all of our sperm conversations and my lack of sense that makes me say "yes" when they want to accompany me to the obstetrician.

I did expect to see a death question, and yes, that has been a difficult one for us as well. However, I'm baffled by the weather questions. They shouldn't be tough to answer at all--that's what books and the internet are for! Really scratching my head at those two.

The party question and the moving question--well, those can be tough in the sense that the child is sad about the party or the move. It's hard to disappoint those we love, and it hurts to see our kids hurting. Sure, I get that.

I'd like to know, however, how the folks at CNN and Real Simple might answer some of the toughest questions I've received from my child. Because some questions are truly TOUGH and not because they're sad to talk about. It's because they are very, very difficult to answer with a straight face. (And yes, there's a sex question in this list.)

• Could the strongest man in the world (aka "Daddy") lift up a peeing horse? (My personal all-time fave)

• If Bad Guys came into our house, would this ninja move [insert demo here] surprise them? (That would be yes.)
  

• I think I'm going to need to see it [sex], because I'm worried I won't know what to do. So could . . . ? (I interrupted with a quick 'No, that's private' kind of answer before he could request a personal demonstration from his parents. He'll thank me later.)

• How did you get to be so old? (Is this even answerable?)

• Mommy, what's a "flocker?" (After he misunderstood a colorful word I had just directed at a crazy driver who nearly hit us.)

• Were there more than two cowboys alive in the past? (Answer: Yes, there were/are lots of cowboys.) Well then, when one of them said "Howdy, Pard'ner!" how did all the cowboys know which cowboy the first one was talking to? I think there must have been only TWO cowboys.
  

Now those are tough questions! I defy you not to laugh! :o)

Biology Lessons, Part 2

True to form, Ryan has asked me a few more questions about sperm and baby-making. As you'll recall from a few days ago, he decided to create some sperm sculptures out of clay to help him integrate this new information. Kind of ingenious, really.

I'm beginning to refer to him as a Method Learner which is similar to a Method Actor, who immerses himself in a role by becoming that character. When Ryan wants to learn something, he goes beyond committing a few facts to memory. Rather, he embraces the idea down to the very core of his being, creates it, breaks it down, runs around with it, builds it, sleeps with it, makes up peopleguy jobs with it, talks about it, talks to it, imagines it, prints signs about it and puts them all over the house, etc. until he is through with that particular idea and is on to something else.

Hence this very real need to wear peopleguy uniforms and possess the appropriate equipment and tools. It is a NEED, I'm not exaggerating. If we don't have the exact right costume available, he will not rest until he has created a reasonable facsimile thereof. (I'm banking on this need to get him to learn how to do his own laundry, actually, since he is becoming quite cranky with me when just the shirt he's looking for is not clean, folded, and in his dresser.)

Maybe all children are like this to some degree--probably, now that I think about it. Since Ryan is my first, this is all new to me. Morgan has really become interested in creativity and/or pretend play--usually she pretends she is some kind of cute, fuzzy animal--but I suspect that Ryan is perhaps extreme or unique in some way that I can't quite put my finger on. Those of you who have met him in person might be able to shed some light on this, since it's hard for me to be completely sure, what with living with him and all. Really, though, young children are fascinating humans. I love meeting and playing with remarkably engaging children, I love trying to figure out how their minds are working.

So anyway, I wrote all of this to lead up to another chapter in Ryan's fascination with sperm. This whole procreation process is very much on his mind, as previously mentioned. He told me the other night that he just still wasn't very sure about how the sperm got inside the mommy so that she can grow a baby in there, remarking,

I really think I need to see it, because I'm just not sure where the penis is supposed to go. I'm kind of imagining it goes on her belly button, but I'm not sure. Because when it's time for me to make a baby, how am I supposed to know what to do?

And here is where I think the Method Learning style is going to have some limitations.

(By the way, where oh where is his father when he has these questions?!?!?!?!)

It took a few minutes for me to recover from the unexpected turn that this ongoing discussion had taken. My mind went blank for a second, then began to race wildly, looking for an answer that would be A) age-appropriate and truthful and B) allowed me to speak without choking with laughter. I took a deep breath and we went over the, ah, procedure again. I told him that sex is a private thing, but tried to let him know that when the time comes, when he is much, much older, that he will know what to do.

I don't know, I really hope that explanation will hold him for a while (but I'm sure it won't!). Honestly, I have to wonder if next he's going to create some new kind of clay sculpture that might not be appropriate for posting on a blog. !!!

Really, I am quite proud of myself for answering all these questions--most of my information did not come from my parents because by the time I had questions (I was a few years older than Ryan), everyone was all awkward about it. So, go me.

Still, I'm a bit ready for a change of subject. :o)

Biology Lessons

(Originally posted at Rational Jenn)

Well, as you probably know, I'm in the midst of my own biology experiment right now. The Gus Project is both exciting and exhausting, as those of you who have worked on similar experiments can no doubt attest.

Everyone is interested in Gus, but Ryan most of all. We have had numerous discussions with Ryan regarding the existence of Gus: how he's growing, how he eats, how tired Mommy is, how Gus got in there, how tired Mommy is, etc.

In typical Ryan-fashion, he prefers excruciatingly detailed answers to his innumerable questions. No executive summary will ever suffice, no matter what the topic. As I have mentioned before, he pretty much knows all about reproduction--humans, gorillas, and otherwise. Which is good, really, less questions to answer later.

Still, I was caught off-guard by his recent obsession with sperm. He understands that sperm is the guy's responsibility, and since he is a guy, he felt like he needed to know all about it. He was dying to know what sperm looks like, so I fired up Ye Olde Computer Device and quickly found some pictures. Oh, he was fascinated.

I also believe this interest in sperm was somewhat spurred by the fact that I took the kids to one of my OB appointments and we discussed all of the girl-related things during our eons-long wait for the doctor to come in. He got to see a picture of an ovum, and ovaries, and well, everything. Lucky for me that the doc was delayed, so I got to answer questions and questions and questions and describe pictures and pictures and pictures. !!!

So anyway, sperm. He can't wait to make some of his own. We have explained several times that that wouldn't happen for a while just yet. Not to be deterred by this little biological impediment, he decided to make sperm in a different way. And so in honor of this occasion, you'll get to see some pictures. Here they are:


Not exactly to scale, but I think he's got the right idea:



Looks like we found a winner:



Mission Accomplished!


And to balance out some of this testosterone, I present you with a Girl in Pink Sparkly Shoes: