Surprise! Suprise!

To my Peanut, my Peet, on her 15^th Birthday:

Sometimes life gives us lemons. Sometimes we were the ones that went and picked them off the tree we weren’t supposed to touch. In either case, the opportunity to make lemonade is there.

I wanted to tell you the story of when I, and subsequently your Dad, found out we were going to have you. You know that we hadn’t planned on having kids, but I wonder if you know how head over heels in love we were with each other? How much time we spent together – laughing and arguing and debating and having fun? We had already decided we were going to spend our lives together before we found out about you. We hadn’t made anything official, and there was no wedding planned, or even an explicit conversation. But we knew.

The day I found out the flu I had was going to last another 8 months I experienced a wild ride of emotions. I told you how I took those pregnancy tests, all by myself at home, and watched incredulously as the two pink lines appeared. Was I scared? Yes. Was I prepared? No. Did I question my ability to be a good parent. Yes? Did I ever, for one single second, think of making a choice other than to have you? No. Not even once. Not a single solitary second did even one single thought go through my mind. I knew that this was a done deal. That I was going to be a Mom. So when I hear you talk about how you were an accident, well I guess that depends on how you define accident.

Accidents are simply an event that you didn’t expect, or plan, to occur. It was no secret. And I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want to lie to you. To tell you that we were married before you came along, as though it was everything we expected and planned. I could only imagine what the impact on you would be if you had thought that, and found out later that things were different. The thing is, life is filled with accidents; some change your life for the better – like the universe giving you a gift that you never knew you wanted, and, of course, sometimes they aren’t so awesome.

But you, my girl, were the best surprise I’ve ever gotten. Nothing and no one could’ve prepared me for what I was to gain by that “accident” - which, if you don’t mind, I’d like to reclassify in your vocabulary as a surprise. Because that’s really what you were.

And as we've travelled down this path to your adulthood, we have faced challenges. And we will continue to face challenges. (Frankly, life would be pretty boring without its challenges.) But I need you to know this, and I need you to feel it deep in your gut, and I need you to understand that with all my being, with all my words, thoughts and feelings, there has never once, not one single tiny little microsecond, been a time when I have regretted the surprise that I got that day.

I knew from the second that I knew that you were a little tiny living peanut in me that I would somehow figure out to give you everything that I ever wanted; to give you all the support, and love, and caring that you would ever need to be happy and successful in this life.

And then, after four days of trying to get you out here to meet us, you finally joined our family in this world, and it only strengthened my conviction. I knew the second I saw that little bloody body held up over the tarp they draped between my face and my belly that there wouldn’t be ANYTHING that I wouldn’t do for you – to protect you, to keep you healthy, to keep you strong and able, to give you or to want for you.

So please, please understand that there is no word that can describe the love a mother has for their child – no matter the circumstances of how they got there. I love you more than you will ever be able to understand. Until maybe you become a mom yourself.

There is nothing else in the universe like it.

I love you and I can’t wait for our journey ahead.

Go Pick a Switch

I really hate disciplining my kids. I really don't like having to think about what the appropriate discipline is. I don't like to see them cry and be upset. I don't like having to deal with them during their grounded time. And I feel like I end up as much grounded as them, and maybe even more.

Growing up I didn't get disciplined much. But then I didn't really do a whole lot to be disciplined for. I remember my mom threatening sometimes. When I was little that meant pulling the string with the attached ball off of those cheap paddle ball toys. But I don't ever remember being spanked. The most clear recollections I have was when I was a teenager and I would lose phone privileges (that's landline phone, with a cord, for those of you who don't remember...). Oh, and that one time, when I was 11 and I shoplifted something from a store. I was grounded for a year. Yep, you read that right: a YEAR.

Now that I have kids of my own, I have expectations. And I think I clearly communicate those expectations. And I don't think they're unfair. And I do expect that they will be met. My wish, if I got those, would be that I would never have to discipline them at all. That they would understand why I set the expectations that I do, and that they would follow my rules.

Do I think that's realistic? No. But we're talking about wishes here people.

I think one of the parts of trying to create decent human beings that I struggle with the most is the appropriate punishment for the crime. I've known people who have gotten all kinds of different punishments. My dad would tell stories of he and his brothers lying over his parent's bed waiting for the belt. I had a friend that, when his kids would act up, he would recall his own childhood, "Go pick a switch. And it better be a good one or it will be worse," his Momma would say. And then I had friends that could get away with murder, and consequently let their children do the same.

So what punishment do you pick?

When the kids were little, Brandon and I would send them to their rooms so that we could calm down, and collectively decide on a punishment. We were die hard in our efforts to be consistent and to present a united front. Today is no different (well, sometimes we yell. Sometimes, when your kid has made such a stupid mistake that you are completely flabbergasted, you yell. You might yell something at her like, "What the fuck were you thinking!?!?!" And then walk to the other room to cry.) even though we are co-parenting in different households now.

Ultimately, even if there was some yelling, we try to sit down and have an honest dialogue. We try to help the kids see our point of view. To help them understand where we are coming from. Maybe why we were so mad. And we always, always tell them that we love them. And we care about them. And that we worry about them. And we just want the best for them.

Some people might be shocked to have witnessed our most recent conversations regarding discipline. Sitting at the dining room table are me, Brandon, Mike and Lilly. Because we are mature adults. And all of us have a stake in this. And all of us have an interest in seeing the kids succeed.

We turned it over to her. We asked her what she thought we needed to do to help her be successful in making good decisions, and improving her judgement. We brainstormed ideas of goals - each of our goals FOR her, and her goals for herself - over the next three years. We talked about how, if those goals are important, then every decision, no matter how critical or insignificant, should be run through a quick question: does the decision I think I'm going to make get me closer to my goals? If the answer is no, then it's not the right decision.

This isn't a concept reserved exclusively for kids. I don't know many adults that wouldn't benefit from applying this same process to their own lives - mine included.  The point is, discipline for the sake of discipline is rarely effective. I should know. A generous portion of my time is spent with "big" kids, who have found themselves in a situation as a result of poor decision making, where I am battling with their employer over the appropriate level of discipline. The thing is, when you simply punish a person (kid or adult), a smack on the ass or a couple days off work, won't fix the problem. It takes a comprehensive review of the root cause of the poor decision in the first place, and a discussion WITH the person's input, to develop a plan to grow and change so that they don't end up in the same position again.

There is no perfect disciplinary recipe book. If there is, I've never seen it. Like the rest of parenting, we'll just continue to stumble through, screwing them up in our own particular way.

A Letter to a Fellow Mother

To the Mother of the boy who jumped out of my daughter’s window last night:

Last night, I searched the internet looking to find the full name of your son. Lucky for me, I used to skip trace at my previous job, and so did Mike. I happen to know some cops and other people who can get information. So now I know who he is. And I know who you are. (The internet is the damnedest thing. You can find ANYTHING on it…IF you know where to look.)

I wanted to come to your house last night. Not because I think that you knew what your son was up to…No, I wanted to come to your house last night to ask you that you kindly tell your son that he is not welcome at my house. Or my daughter’s dad’s house. Or anywhere near my daughter, regardless of her location.

I was angry. REALLY angry. I considered calling the cops. I even asked some of my friends who are cops if I could have your son arrested for trespassing. In retrospect, that was hasty. And my anger took over my rational thought process. While this may have been your son’s idea (according to my daughter, who is prone to lying and whose credibility and integrity is completely shot), I realize that your son may also just be an immature child struggling with boundaries and the way of the world.

And so I found you, and through the miracle of the internet, I have the opportunity to send you a message. And I was going to...Except I couldn’t figure out what I really wanted to say to you. Because you, like me, probably didn’t have any idea that your son was at my daughter’s house. Because you, like me, probably didn’t have any idea that your son and my daughter had devised this secret plot to “hang out”. Because you undoubtedly didn’t know that my daughter was already grounded for “hanging out” with your son on a clandestine meeting at 1am a month ago.

But I wonder: do you, like me, want to know that this is what your son was doing? Because if the situation were flip-flopped, I WOULD want to know.

So I’m going to tell you what happened:

Yesterday I went to the bus stop to pick my daughter up to take her grocery shopping with me (2:30pm). She refused. She didn't want to come. Weird. Because she ALWAYS wants to come. So I drove her and her brother to their dad's house. I dropped them off and drove two doors down and I got a funny feeling. I even sat there for 10 minutes trying to figure out if I should just make her come with me. I was in a bad mood, and figured that was the reason for the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. So I left and went to the grocery store.

About an hour later (3:30pm) I got a text from my son asking if he could go to his friend's house to stay the night. He's been really good, doing very well in school and I had no reason to say no. I just forgot that he had been the only barrier between Lilly and her being left to her own devices. I said ok, we cleared it with his dad, and his friend's dad came to pick him up. Which, because I wasn't even thinking, left Lilly alone.

When my ex-husband, Brandon, got home yesterday evening (approx 5:30pm) there was a strange car parked just past his house. He went to it. There was a boy inside. He knocked on the window and asked if he could help him. The boy lied, "I'm just waiting here for my mom who's in that house right there." Brandon left it alone but apparently it still had his hairs standing on end because he took a picture of the license plate.

He went inside and was promptly greeted by a cheery and chatty daughter (which was weird in and of itself). Something still seemed off and he went into her room, where the window was wide open. He asked her why the window was open and she lied (it's 25 degrees at this point). He walked away, and was still bothered. He took a flashlight outside and there were footprints in the snow out of her window to where the car had been. BUSTED!

At first, she lied about anyone being there, but finally fessed up. It was your son, the same boy that she snuck out to see a month prior with her friend. The boy that my daughter was no longer allowed to see or talk to had been IN HER DAD'S HOUSE!

She doesn't even know your son. She says she had only met him that one other time. She didn’t even know his last name or really anything about him and now they are exchanging bodily fluids with one another.

So I got a phone call. “Can you come over here RIGHT NOW. I think someone has been in my house (this was before she confessed) and I need you to calm me down and keep me away from our daughter.” So I went over to his house. On a Friday evening. Right when I was making my dinner. When I should’ve been relaxing.

That’s what happened first. Here’s what happened next…

I wanted to find out who you are and where you live and pay you a visit. So that you could potentially help me to keep your son from contacting my daughter ever again. And, in fact, when I thought I found out who you were, we DID drive there to confront your son. But we had the wrong name. And the wrong address.

So I had my daughter call your son. I wanted to ask her to set your son up. To tell him that she had gotten out of the house and to meet her somewhere. But I thought better of that. I had her call him and tell him that we were sitting in a car, in Lake Stevens, and that her parents wanted to know his last name and his address. Because we were on our way to his house.

Like any typical teenager he refused. (To be honest, I probably would have, too.) He said he wasn’t home. He begged us not to go to your house because you were at work and your husband was sleeping and had to get up very early. He again refused to give up the information we were seeking. So Brandon took the phone.

Your son confirmed that the car parked at his house, the car we have a picture of the license plate, was YOUR car. A car registered in YOUR name. Brandon told your son that we will find out the information we want, the easy way or the hard way. At that point your son gave up his last name. But would not divulge your address. (He said he didn’t know it – “it’s on 56th St I think?”) He again begged Brandon not to show up at his house. Armed with your last name, and my connections, I found out who your son was. And I found out who you are.

But I was still angry.

And not thinking rationally.

So I haven’t contacted you. And I don’t know if I will.

Brandon and I did, unconditionally, unwelcome your son from either of our houses. We also asked that he stay as far away from our daughter as possible. I hope that he will heed our warning. Frankly, we’d rather never have to deal with him, or you, ever. We’d like you to be able to live a long, healthy, happy and prosperous life without ever having to meet us; to deal with this shit.

Only time will tell how that will end.

Here’s what I wonder about your son:

(I apologize in advance if I seem crass, or uncaring. I’m still pretty angry. Mostly at my daughter – but anger doesn't often accompany rational thought - so I'm mad at your son too.)

First, how desperate is he? He’s a senior in high school. At a big school. With nearly 2000 students. Roughly half of them are girls. Seems like he’s a loser if he can’t find anyone interested in him there. Why is he interested in my 14-year-old, freshman daughter? I can only think of one reason. I mean she’s pretty, and a pretty dynamic human being, but I doubt that is what has him so captivated.

Second, what gives your son the right to come into someone’s house without permission? This, on top of the fact that he knows that my daughter is grounded, in part, because of him! And, for all he knows, the father of this teen-aged girl is armed and dangerous; a man likely to shoot people he finds sneaking in or out of windows in order to protect his family.

Third, does your son lie like my daughter does? Is he a natural manipulator? Does he know that my daughter battles depression and anxiety? Does he know that she struggles very much with acceptance and craves affection? Does he know that she is very gullible with the prospect that someone “actually likes her”? Because if he knows any of those things, and is still manipulating her into “hanging out” with him, then he’s a total piece of shit. And you should be ashamed. (There’s that crass, unfiltered anger I was talking about.)

In some ways, I hope you see this. It’s embarrassing. To me. To my daughter. To our family. But I wonder if it will help even one person. Perhaps a parent, so that they know they are not alone in feeling like a failure (like I do). Or maybe a kid, who might accidentally bump into this post and have an ah-ha moment of clarity and make some adjustment in their life. Or maybe it will help no one but me – because it is cathartic for me to feel like I got to tell you this, even if it never reaches you. (Which, in other ways, I hope it doesn’t.)

Funny, my friend posted a link to this blog post this morning, and part of it said this:

“I think parenting young children (and old ones, I’ve heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they’ve heard there’s magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it’s hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again. Even though any climber will tell you that most of the climb is treacherous, exhausting, killer. That they literally cried most of the way up.

And so I think that if there were people stationed, say, every thirty feet along Mount Everest yelling to the climbers – “ARE YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF!? IF NOT, YOU SHOULD BE! ONE DAY YOU’LL BE SORRY YOU DIDN’T!” TRUST US!! IT’LL BE OVER TOO SOON! CARPE DIEM!” – those well-meaning, nostalgic cheerleaders might be physically thrown from the mountain.” (Click here for the link to the full article)

This couldn’t have come at a more apropos time. As I sit at my computer crying, I think this author nailed it. Right now I’m only half way up the mountain. And I want to quit. I want to be warm and comfortable and not struggling to move forward. But I am not a quitter. And I will not quit the hardest, most challenging job I’ve ever been awarded.

And I don’t expect that you will either. We can’t. It’s built into us as mother's to continue to help our kids be successful, decent human beings. But it’s harder to do that when you don’t know what they’re up to.

THIS is the letter I would send, IF I was going to send it. Would you?

Try, Try Again

The other day my daughter asked me why I don’t blog anymore. I guess it’s because life is so busy. And sometimes even the things we really enjoy can become a chore. I am resistant to tell even myself that I am going to start doing something regularly for fear that I won’t follow through. The impending failure is too much. I have so much self doubt, my ability to cope with failure is all taken up by my job. I don’t have room to disappoint myself too.

I enjoy writing; I always have. I’ve always wanted to write a book. I still have a promise lingering out there in the universe to my 9th grade English teacher, Mr. Hamel, to dedicate my first book to him. But I write a lot for work – nothing therapeutic or funny (ok, maybe sometimes my sarcastic brand of humor works its way in), or in any way documents my life experiences, but the need to put words on a page is fulfilled.

 I didn’t really ask Lil about why she was asking; I seem to recall we were laughing at something that her brother said. I suppose it’s because even though she finds it embarrassing at times, she likes that I write about her and her brother. When she was younger I wouldn’t let her read what I wrote. It wasn’t for them. It was for me, and for those of my friends who felt like connecting with me, sharing in my joys, and in my frustrations. Now, I would let her read it, but she’s no longer got any access to the internet (that’s a story for another day). Reading back on a few of the posts, I’m glad I wrote them. They provide a memory, more accurately told because of the timeliness of capturing the moment. When that moment may otherwise fade – the details evaporating as new memories fill their space – it’s here in black and white to look back at and laugh about.

 Now I’m encouraging her to write her own blog. I don’t have any expectation that she will become the next blogger phenom. Like me, English and writing come naturally to her. Written words on the page help her to clear her head, organize her thoughts, and express her feelings in a way that she can’t express otherwise. Her unique perspective could also help others (something I hope for in my musings here).

 With 2 other bloggers in the house, I want to renew my intention to capture moments in writing. I’m not a resolution kind of girl. But I do reflect – on what I’ve accomplished, where I could’ve done better, on the goals I have, and on how I wish to spend my time. Intention in my line of work means everything. And while the road to hell may be paved with them, I’m headed there anyway so why not intend to write again?

Here I go again

Every year I say that I am going to be better about blogging and every year I make it just a little bit further into the year. In 2013 I made it through to March and then I quit. Life got in the way, work got in the way and sometimes I was just being lazy or didn't feel like I had anything to say. And so, here I am again, with renewed ambition. We all have things that help us ease stress and induce calm. Writing does that for me - even if it's just talking about some new recipe I tried. Refocusing my energy away from work (especially now that I have a newer, more intense job) and towards something else is always refreshing and relaxing....and my family will tell you if it's one thing I need to do it's relax.

I know that it's not quite the new year, but I thought maybe I would start now. I'm really only two days away anyway. And I'm totally stressing out about the next 6 days. In 6 days I am flying to Boston where I will be staying for 6 weeks! I'm worried about leaving my work behind, I'm worried I'm not going to pack the right stuff, I'm worried about the unknown that will meet me in Cambridge, I'm worried that I'm going to miss my husband and kids so terribly that I'm going to be miserable, I'm worried about making friends, and on and on and on.

I'm working on quelling some of my fears. I've already written list after list after list for packing. And, if you follow me on Pinterest, you'll know that I've been compiling outfits that are inter-related so that I can maximize pairing different things together. I've done my best to get things taken care of at work ahead of time but I am still leaving in the middle of contract negotiations with a sensitive group that has already been through a lot.

 Mostly, the main root of my fears is that I feel selfish for pursuing this schooling (at Harvard! Did I mention that?) at the expense of the hubs and my kids. I'm going to miss my daughter's birthday. I'm going to miss countless wrestling matches and basketball games. I know they'll be ok and can make it without me, but I work hard to make sure our family life runs smoothly. Perhaps I won't be scarring the kids for life - heck, maybe they'll barely notice - but either way I hope that I am at the very least showing them what it means to take the once-in-a-lifetime opportunities that are presented to you and finding a way to make it happen.

Now, I have to get back to creating my family notebook for my mom. (She's going to be staying here off and on while I'm gone.) As I've been typing it I almost think it would a nice thing to have around all the time - contact info, medical stuff, dog care, kids chores, their schedules - but I hope that it helps her.

I know that I will be reachable by phone. And I hope to be able to Skype with them every night. And, we even are taking the opportunity to fly them out to see me for a week. But I still won't be here at home.

Going Granola...according to my Mom

Mom: (On the phone while I'm at work) "I'm at your house and I was going to throw a load of clothes in for you but I can't find your detergent."
Me: "It's in the cabinet over the washer & dryer in the glass jar."
Mom: "This powder with the yellow waxy things in it?"
Me: "Yes. I make it myself. It's much less expensive and is helpful for the environment (less plastic containers)."
Mom: "What are you doing? Are you going all granola on me?"

There are only 4 of us in my family. But with my husband being a big guy, not to mention working a dirty job, and having an 8 year old son, I do a LOT of laundry. I have been a Tide girl for a long time, particularly the liquid version, but about a year ago I came upon homemade laundry soap on Pinterest and decided to give it a try. I'm just getting down to my final glass jar of my second batch and thought I would pass my experience along because it really does work and it really is inexpensive!

I could hardly believe the claims - lasting for months upon months of laundry loads - but even still, I wanted to check it out. While I'm not the most frugal girl, and I'm not the most environmental nut, I do like to save money and keep plastic out of the environment as much as possible.

And so last April I tried the recipe I found on Pinterest. I would link to the original recipe I used but there are TONS of them and they are all about the same.

Here are the things I used in the first batch:



This picture is the property of simplelifeandhome.com

 

It took me 5 months to use it all! At 2 tablespoons per load it really goes a long way. The initial cost of the products listed above when I purchased them was $20.19! I don't know about you but I have never gotten away with $4/month for laundry detergent. And it works!

 

When I went to make the second batch I decided I really missed my fresh Tide smell. Since Tide doesn't make a powdered fabric softener, I went with Purex Crystals Fabric Softener and, because soccer season was upon us, I also added a box of Ultra Clorox 2 for Colors.

 

So, here is the complete list of the ingredients for the kind I like the best:

 

1 - 4lb 12oz box of Borax (You can find Borax in the laundry aisle. It is also good for your carpets)

1 - 3lb 7oz box of Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda (found in the laundry soap aisle)

1 - 3lb container of OxiClean (found in the laundry soap aisle)

1 - 4lb box of Arm & Hammer Baking Soda (You'll have to get this in the baking aisle)

1 - 55 oz container Purex Crystals Fabric Softener (found in the laundry soap aisle)

1 - 49.2oz box Ultra Clorox 2 for Colors (found in the laundry soap aisle)

2 bars of Fels Naptha soap (found in the laundry soap aisle. You could also use Zote)

 

Here's what you'll need to do:

 

First you'll need at least a 5 pound bucket to mix all of the ingredients together in. Ideally you'll probably end up using this bucket as storage so make sure it has a lid. I keep the detergent in a smaller glass container in the cabinet and then refill from the bucket as necessary.

 

Next, you will want to shred the Fels Naptha. There are different suggestions floating around the internet on the best way to shred the Fels Naptha. In my experience and opinion the fastest, easiest way is to put it through your food processor. The first time I had Brandon shred it with a cheese shredder and while he's much faster than me, it was still hard work and took a little while. The second time I ran it through the food processor and was done in less than a minute.

 

Now, mix it all together and stir! Be careful where you are doing your pouring and mixing. When the borax, washing soda, baking soda, etc. come rushing out of the box it can create quite a cloud of soap dust (which doesn't taste very good either I might add).

 

Use the detergent just as you would any other powder detergent. For everyday loads you only need about 2 Tablespoons per load. I add an extra if I'm washing soccer uniforms, or other really dirty stuff.

 

Call it granola if you like, but I am quite happy with this method. And I'm totally down with anything that saves me money!

 

 

11 going on 25

It doesn’t seem like it’s been a year since I posted pictures of my cute baby girl on her 10^th birthday. She is now 11 years old and I can’t believe it. Her attitude and moodiness is far surpassing that of her age. Just recently I’ve watched her turn the corner from thinking Mom and Dad had most of the answers to thinking that Mom and Dad not only know nothing, but are unfair and cruel. I mean, I knew it was coming, I just thought we had a little more time.

Her whiny face hasn't changed much

For the big birthday celebration this year I took her and 4 of her friends to the ice skating rink, to the mall for some shopping, and to dinner. I really do like her friends. They are all really supportive of each other and they all have really unique and funny personalities. But I’m still the girl who never wanted to have kids and I was SO grateful that my mom asked to tag along. She is much better at tolerating the goofy, off-the-wall behavior than I am.

We started our day at the ice rink. Lilly was tentative about having a part of her party there because she didn’t want to come across as copying her friends (she’s been there for 2 other birthdays in the last month). But alas she couldn’t resist. The girls skated around for a little over an hour before their ankles were sore and they had each fallen at least once. They were ready to hit the mall!

After the giggly, goofy car ride to the mall we stopped off at Starbucks (Lilly’s favorite) for a drink. I was so impressed that after ice skating and Starbucks all of the girls thanked me. What good manners – nice work parents! And even though my mother doesn’t think it’s right, I love that the girls remember to call me Nichole and not Mrs. Reedy. I know that Mrs. Reedy is “proper” but that name belongs to my mother-in-law, not me.

We stopped in a PACKED Aeropostale, spent a long time in Claire’s, and perused through Justice, but JCPenney took the cake. The girls decided to try on prom dresses. Like my normal nervous Nellie self I was worried they were clogging the dressing room, or making too much noise, but my mom was quick to say, “Nah, this is fun. You’ll miss this. Let them go,” so I did. They tried on dress, after dress, after dress, taking time between each to model for Murmur. My daughter is such a character I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t end up pursuing an acting degree. She’s dramatic, she’s expressive and she’s over the top….and it’s SO cute even if it does get annoying.

 

 

 

When we were done crashing the dress department we headed over to the high heels so that the girls could attempt to break some ankles. It cracks me up to watch them attach personalities to the shoes. There they are, in their own clothes, with a crazy pair of high heels on assuming the personality of the person they think might wear them. A couple of turned ankles later (with no real injuries I might add) we put a stop to the high heels and headed to Macy’s.

 

Macy’s was not too exciting (except that we lost Murmur along the way – don’t worry we found her) and so we headed to Forever 21. They were all overcome with the aisles and aisles of cheap makeup, and jewelry, and accessories. I asked Lilly to borrow her phone (mine was dead) and she couldn’t find it. We looked through her purse but it was nowhere to be found. A quick check in with Murmur and off we went to retrace our steps. I was SO mad…and she knew it. We have had many discussions about the importance of keeping track of house keys, phones, and wallets. I couldn’t believe she lost the phone. Turns out there are still some nice, honest people out there, and someone returned the phone to a sales associate who turned it in to lost and found who called “home” and notified Dad that they had her phone. I was still really mad but the hubs reminded me to let her have a good evening. After some more tears from Lilly, and some deep breaths on my part, smiles started to return and we went back to shopping.

 

It had been a long, exhausting day and we were all ready for dinner. The Spaghetti Factory was packed to the brim but thanks to their call ahead seating we only waited about 20 minutes. By this time the girls were all jacked up on some candy they had purchased and all of their extra energy was directed straight at our waiter. They each ordered Italian sodas and while one would order, another would ask the waiter some bizaare question. When it was time to order, First Riley ordered a “rocket” off the kids menu (the word “rocket” was in the word search). Our poor waiter looked at her puzzled. “It’s on the menu,” she said, “right here.” Being a good sport he ran to the kitchen, came back, and said, “Sorry, the last one just took off.” The girls spent our whole dinner laughing, asking the waiter for special requests – like, “My lettuce is in too big of chunks, can you make it smaller?” – and in general showing their own special combination of humor and wit. At some point, because the rocket issue could not be let go, the waiter went and got the general manager. They barraged him with questions and requests. I think someone asked if he could please get One Direction to come to the restaurant. He was also a good sport and ended up leaving noting that “These are the girls that are going to make it. They are witty and smart and I can tell they’re going to do something with their lives.” In the end, they made the waiter guess their ages, guess their names, they insulted him by guessing he was 37 (he was 33) and told him that he was probably smart because he wore glasses. They were so happy with him putting up with all of their razzing that they insisted on giving him a tip. Being a good guy, he continued to hand the dollars back to the girls. Then Lilly, in an act I expect she will look back on in several years and laugh even harder, tucked two dollars into the waist of his apron! All I could do was shake my head and laugh – it really was pretty funny. Daniel, you made the girls’ night. They talked about dinner the whole way home! Thank you for being such a good humored and patient waiter.

 

 

Just when it finally seemed like they were tired and quieting down the giggling began again. We dropped the girls off, one by one and went home. At each stop Lilly asked her friend, “Did you have fun?” Everyone answered yes with a big smile. I truly think that some life-long memories were made that night. I can only imagine how hard they will laugh when they are at their high school reunion, remembering this night, and wondering how they got away with continually asking their male waiter for a rocket! (Sorry, I tried to keep my mind out of the gutter but they just kept saying it – over and over and over!)

I hope you had a fun birthday party Lil. Despite the large dose of hormones that you seemed to have gotten from Mother Nature for your birthday that has turned you into a moody snot, I still love you. You’ll always be my favorite daughter!

The Allowance Dilemma

From the time my kids were pretty small the hubs and I were discussing what we would do for allowance. Would we give the kids money for nothing? Would we make them earn it by doing chores? Would they earn more if they did extra chores? Would we take it away if they were misbehaving? How much do we give them? How early do we start? What can we teach by giving an allowance?

I have to tell you I have googled A LOT about this subject. I've read experts opinions, I've read other parents opinions, I've read blogs about how families have adapted some mixture of all the suggestions from the first two together. There are so many ideas, so many different takes on the subject, I was left reeling trying to consider all of the possibilities.

Initially we floated the idea of allowance to the kids when Lil was about 6 years old, making Logan only about 4 at the time. I didn't feel like I could leave him out so we implemented for both of the kids. I think I recall giving them like $1.50/week and they had to save at least $0.50 of that. The problem was they didn't really get it, didn't really care about receiving it and I was really bad about having the cash on hand to present to them every Friday. I think it may have lasted about 3 weeks at the most. They forgot to ask, I forgot to provide and so it went by the wayside.

Now that they are older we decided that it was time to implement allowance again. Several things prompted the beginning of this new allowance system.

1. Their wants are getting increasingly more expensive. With technology becoming more innovative and cool they want the latest gizmo and gadget. While we could probably get them some, if not all of it, if we really wanted to, we feel like they don't have any understanding of how valuable the item is. Someone hands you an iPod and it's like, "Great! Woohoo!" There is no concept of the fact that the little piece of technological parts you're holding in your hand cost that someone a pretty penny.
2. They value money. They are both at an age now where getting cash & gift cards is one of their favorite things. They like to know that they can buy something, with their own money, when we go to the store.
3. We want to teach them what it's like to be responsible with money. Not only are far too many of us up to our eyeballs in credit card debt these days, there aren't many of us that are on board with the "save up until you can afford it" mentality. Our society is so full of "needs" that are really just wants -  and damnit we need these things RIGHT NOW! The idea of waiting to get something you want is nearly lost on my generation and, if it's possible, is only getting worse for my children's generation.

As I researched what was working for other families and what the experts recommended I thought about the constraints we would face with regards to allowance. Here's what I knew some of our limitations would be: 1) I would not have cash for them every week on Friday. I never carry cash and I know I wouldn't stop on Friday after work to get it for them; 2) They will probably forget to bring their money with them to the store OR they might not know that we were going to stop at the store and thus not bring their money; 3) They had to have easy access to whatever system we implemented. Otherwise they'd just ditch the whole idea, money or not; 4) It had to be something that was visible. They will need to be able to see what's happened with their allowance.

In taking all of this into account I developed our own system. It's definitely a hybrid of all of those other cool ideas I've seen on other people's blogs, but it is customized for the way that we live.

First, we discussed how much money per week to give the kids. Many of the things I read suggested an amount equal to their age either per week or per month. For us, $10 and $8 per month seemed a little low considering the cost of consumer items these days but we were also unwilling to shell out that amount per week. In addition, because we have two children who are constantly arguing about what is fair, we knew it had to be the same amount for each of them. We settled on $5 each per week.

Second, the earn for chores or just be given the money question. While we like the idea of earning your money (that's how we get our money, right?), we didn't want them to think that they should get paid for helping out around the house. We don't get extra money for doing laundry, or picking up dog poop, why should they? We felt like it was more important for them to realize that they had an obligation to lend a hand because they are a part of our family and they live here, rather than pay them for chores.

Third, do we take money away if they are misbehaving? While this is tempting we felt like the main reason why we were giving them an allowance is to teach them the value of money and to learn how to be responsible with it. It is not part of a reward/punishment system and so we have chosen not to use it in that way.

Fourth, I read that many people made their kids split their money into different banks: spending, saving, and donation. We decided we also thought it was important for the kids to see what it was like to save their money and so we came up with a hybrid spending/saving plan. Of their $5 per week they are required to put at least 30% of that amount into a Spendable Savings Account (SSA). It is a savings account, but it is money that they will be able to spend. The caveat is that they will only be able to spend this money on a big purchase that they save up to buy. This stemmed from a goal Lilly had to buy herself an iPod. She had saved up $140 (the one she wanted was $200) and over the course of a few weeks piddled her money away on junk with nothing to show for it. The money in the SSA can only be withdrawn at $50 or higher. Also, for every four weeks they have $50 in their SSA they earn $2.50 interest. And that is compounded so if they have $100 for four weeks they earn $5.00 and so on.

Now that we had answered the important questions we had to figure out how to implement. Knowing that their allowance would not be my top priority I set up automatic transfers from our checking account to their savings accounts at the bank. This way their money would always be available and designated for them. I decided that the best way for them to keep track of their earnings, savings and spending was on a form that looks like a check register. I created these folders to hold their registers for both their regular spending account and their spendable savings account.

I created the registers to look and work exactly like the check registers of the days of yore. I say that because I haven't kept a check register in ages - I just use a debit card - but I do know how to use a check register if I have to and it's as good a tool as any to teach the kids how to manage their money.

I wanted to make sure they knew the regulations of the Bank of Mom & Dad up front so each of them have a copy of them in the back of their folders. These are the regulations:
 

·       Paydays are weekly on Friday.

·       You must save at least 30% of your allowance for a long term goal.

·       You must keep all purchases up to date in your register.

·       You are allowed to spend your allowance at any time, on anything you wish to purchase.  However, the items you buy can and will be regulated by the parents. For example, you can choose to buy candy but the parents have the right to deny access to any item that you buy, at any time, for any reason.

 

·       You ARE allowed to deposit more than 30% of your allowance into your spendable savings account.

 

·       There is a minimum $50 withdrawal amount from your spendable savings account. In other words, you cannot withdraw an amount less than $50. Any amount over $50 is ok.

 

·       Money in your spendable savings account will earn an additional $2.50 per month for every $50 in your account

I initially included a regulation that required that they add their money into their registers each week but upon further reflection decided not to. While I wanted them to think that getting their "paycheck" was important, I remembered that I get my paycheck whether I remember to pick it up or not. I complied with the regulations set in order to get my paycheck and the company I work for cannot then say since I didn't pick up my check ON payday that I don't get to have it. Since the goal is to prepare them for how money works in the real world I left that regulation out.

I also thought about letting them get themselves into a situation where their account could potentially go negative and setting regulations as to what fees would be charged - just like the actual bank. But I decided to hold off on that for now until they start to get a better grasp as to how this all works.

The kids have a pretty good memory of how much money they have in their accounts at any given time and I usually watch them when they add their paychecks in so I have an idea as well. This way they don't have to bring their wallets with them everywhere (where they get lost or stolen) and if we make an impromptu stop at the store they have their money available to them. We simply pay for their items separately and they take the reciept home and log it into their register. This way they pay the sales tax, they get whatever discount might be going on, etc. We haven't run into a time where they've gotten into the negative yet. If and when we do I will have to revisit my ideas about adding regulations on that subject.

We started this at the beginning of November and it has been going quite well. It is interesting to watch the differences between the two kids in the way they save and spend money. They are definitely both very different.

 

Logan began putting a little more than the required $1.65 into his spendable savings account ($2.00), but he is quick to spend his money. He is also the one who always remembers to add his Friday paycheck into his register.

Lilly hasn't spent much of her allowance at all. I think she may have bought TicTacs one day. But she designates a much larger amount to savings. She really wants to start earning the interest and building that savings account up because she wants an iPad REALLY bad.

 

 

 

Do your kids get an allowance? What system do you have in place?

 

If anyone is interested in getting the templates for my register, folder cover, a copy of my regulations or otherwise please let me know and I will post links to them as free printables.

Back to School!

Today is the first day of school. Every year I feel like I've been planning early and then every year I feel rushed at the last minute. Last night I was frantically separating the load of stuff that I needed to take in to the classroom for the kids. I was making printables for the cover of their notebooks and making new labels for their pencil boxes (can't leave them to just be boring, plain $0.50 boxes ya know!) Back to school means back to a hectic schedule - bedtimes, homework, lunches, fall soccer.

This year Lilly is going into 5th grade. I CAN'T believe it! How do I have a fifth grader? I still remember picking out my favorite new shirt with matching skirt/leggings for my first day of fifth grade. Right now she could be wearing the exact same thing. Whose idea was it to bring back the eighties? Was it not bad enough the first time around? She is starting her last year in elementary school....sometimes you forget at what point in life your kids really start remembering things from their childhood. I remember 5th grade like it was yesterday!

Logan is starting 3rd grade this year. Unlike Lilly, he seems a little more melancholy about going back to school. I picked out his clothes this morning. He wanted to wear an old hand-me-down t-shirt and a pair of old basketball shorts. And maybe I should've let him. Why do I care what he's wearing if he is comfortable? As I left him in line at his classroom this morning he was messing with a spider and not talking to any of his classmates. He can be so social and engaging and yet also be so down on himself thinking nobody likes him. As a mom I feel terrible when I can't make everything awesome every day. I know kids have to live through things and have their own experiences but it is so hard to watch them feeling blue. I'm really hoping for a good report from him when he gets home today. No matter what, he has soccer tonight so I know even if he has the doldrums he'll be happy soon enough!

I don't know what I'm going to do when we're driving them off to college and come home to their empty rooms. I was so happy this morning when I sent Lilly a text asking if she wanted me to wait at the school for her bus to come and she said yes. Apparently they still need their Momma for a little while longer - thank goodness!

My Baby Boy is 8!

8 years ago today I got up in the morning, took a shower, curled my hair, put my make-up on and headed to the hospital to have a baby. Yes, Logan was a planned C-section. And after the 72 hours I was in labor with Lilly I was more than happy to have it this way!

He was born at 1:35 pm, on June 1, 2004. He was 8 lbs. 3oz. and was 21 inches long. At first glance he was a happy, healthy little boy. We wheeled back to our room and introduced our new son to our family who was there waiting for us. Everyone got a chance to hold him as he was passed around the room. In what seemed like only a second after I got to hold him (last of course!), the nurse scooped him up. "He's turning blue! We have to take him!" and off he went. Brandon scurried along with the nurse to the NICU. Turns out he had swallowed a blood clot on his way out and it went into his lung. They had to put him on an IV, and he had to stay in the NICU under an oxygen hood.

This was not the experience I had thought I would have when we got in the car at 5am that morning. Lilly had a little trouble when she was born but she was back in the room within a few hours. Logan ended up having to stay in the NICU for 8 days. When they discharged me after 3 days, I was adamant that I would not leave the hospital without my baby. For a few days they had an extra bed on another vacant floor that they allowed us to stay in but on day 5 there was a baby explosion and they were handling overflow from the birthing floor in the room we were staying in. Again, I refused to leave. Even after my Doctor told me that I better get home and recover myself I couldn't bring myself to leave that hospital. That night I slept on the couch in the waiting area. Every waking moment that we could spend in the NICU (they do shift change twice a day) we did.

Finally, after 8 days in the NICU, he was able to come home. He was 7lbs 13 oz. when we left the hospital on June 9th (Daddy's birthday).

When we went to his first visit with HIS pediatrician he was 10lbs 1 oz. They thought the hospital made a mistake! But I watched them weigh him both times and it wasn't any wonder to me. That first 6 days of only IV feeding had taught him a lesson, he was never planning to go hungry again!

Over the following 8 years we have had a million laughs with our little boy. Here are some pictures from the first few years:

Logan has always been excited about his birthday parties. This year though, this year he's been planning his birthday party since January....who he wants to invite, what he wants to do, the cake he wants, the toys he wants. We finally decided on a water fight birthday party. He and the hubs have been working on an obstacle course and war zone out in the yard for over a week. He CAN'T wait. Yesterday, after a long evening of running the obstacle course he desperately needed a shower. I was downstairs doing some work on my laptop. There was  such a racket coming from upstairs I had to run up there to check it out. Through the shower curtain this is what I heard:



It was so hard not to laugh out loud while I was sitting there listening. He still doesn't know I've posted it on Facebook (or YouTube) and now on the blog so SSShhhhh! He will kill me!

Happy Birthday Logan! You are my FAVORITE son!

THE Talk.

As parents of kids growing up in today's society Brandon and I have been discussing and strategizing how THE talk would go since I found out I was pregnant all those years ago. Like most people, even though we knew we had time (though probably less than when we were kids), we were unsure - and frankly freaked out - about how to explain to our kids how nature causes human beings to behave. We've all had these discussions with our friends - how our parents told us, what our friends told us, the incorrect information we were given from either...or both! We pondered all the questions:

When is the right time to have THE talk?
What do you say?
How much do you tell them?
Do you use visuals?
What if they ask something you find too embarrassing to answer?
How do you prevent them from telling other kids who may not already know?
Will they listen?
Will they heed your advice?
And on. And on. And on.

Lately the clock has been ticking on this conversation for Lilly. She is approaching the age where these things NEED to be explained. Like many parents Brandon and I sort of assumed that we would have these conversations separately - I get the girl, he gets the boy. It only makes sense that she would be more comfortable with me and that I would know about what she will be going through, and vice versa.

A few months ago I attempted to broach the subject with her over a girls day out shopping complete with Starbucks coffee and lunch at the Olive Garden. She was not having any of it. As we casually strolled through the mall I asked her what she knew about when girls get older and the changes that happen to their bodies as well as whether she had any questions or not. Her response was, "MurMur told me a little bit." I started explaining (in a low, muted voice) what puberty is and what effect it has on a girl. Suddenly she stopped short. I turned around and looked at her standing there with an expression of total and utter embarrassment on her face. "Can we PLEASE not talk about this Mom!" She yelled. I agreed and told her that when and if she had any questions she could come talk to me. And that was that.

Until last week....

After dinner one evening the kids and I were in the kitchen. Lilly was emptying the dishwasher and Logan was rinsing and stacking the dishes. I was wiping the counters down. Lilly turned to me and we had this conversation:

"Mom, does it hurt to have a baby?"
"Yes, it does hurt to have a baby."
"How do you know? They cut me and Logan out."
"While that's true, I was in labor for 73 hours with you before they decided to do that."
"Oh. Well, why does it hurt?"
And so I explained that when a baby is fully developed the parts of your body holding the baby begin to start pushing the baby out. Then she wanted to know how it hurt. "You know what it feels like when you have stomach cramps when you're sick?" I asked. "Yeah," she said. "Well, it's like that times a million."

At that moment, without even turning from the sink to look at me, my sweet little son blurts out, "What is sex anyway?" "Yeah," Lilly chimes in, "what is it exactly?" After I readjusted my face back into an expression that was meant to appear calm and normal I asked, "Do you guys really want to know?" They both nodded their heads. "Well, why don't you tell me what you know and we will go from there." To which Logan immediately announces, "I know it has something to do with your penis!"

Oh boy! Guess this is not going to go according to our plans. "Let's wait until your Dad comes downstairs and we'll explain it all to you," I sheepishly stated. And while they were ok with waiting, they went straight to discussing between themselves the things that they thought they knew. Here was their conversation:

Logan: "I think you pee on a girl to get her pregnant."
Lilly: "Ewww. That's gross. No one would do that."
Logan: "Well how does it happen then Lilly?"
Lilly: "I don't know. I think it has something to do with kissing and being naked."
Logan: "Yep, you definitely need to be naked."
Lilly: "Where does the baby come out if you don't get it cut out?"
Logan: "I think girls poop them out."
Mom: "Ok, Ok, Daddy's coming and we will explain how it works. Enough."
And so we had THE Talk. As a family. In the kitchen.

We looked on the Internet at some illustrations that show a week-by-week diagram of what the baby looks like from the inside and how it affects the woman's other organs. Then we talked about the anatomy of a boy and girl, complete with more illustrations from the Internet. Then we talked about puberty and the changes each of them will see in their bodies as they get older. Then the difficult questions started. Our conversation went something like this:

Lilly: (keeping with the absolute biological terms) "Ok, so I get that girls have eggs and boys have sperm but how does one get to the other?"
Daddy: (after coy, giggly looks back and forth from Mommy to Daddy) "Well, the man puts his penis into the woman's vagina."
Lilly: (with a scrunched up face) "Eww, gross. Who would do that?"
Mommy: "Well, when you get older it will be something you will want to do. Nature has built us to desire to have sex so that we continue to procreate. Otherwise humans would become extinct."
Logan: "I am NOT going to do that."
Daddy: "Someday you will want to."

Daddy: (referring to the boy illustration) "No, there is a mechanism built in to determine what fluid is appropriate to be coming out."
Lilly: (also referring to the boy illustration) "But how does it get in there? It's all floppy."
----nervous, giggly looks back and forth from the parents----
Daddy: "Well, when you are ready to have sex it gets harder."
Logan: (without missing a beat) "REALLY?!? I thought that just happened when you had to pee really bad."
Lilly: "So if boys sperm is on the outside of their bodies, why aren't girls eggs?"
Daddy: "Well, sperm are temperamental and can only live at certain temperatures so they have to be able to regulate how hot or cold they are."
Lilly: "Well, how does that happen?"
Daddy: "Well, when it gets cold they huddle up close to your body. And when it's hot outside, or you've been exercising or playing sports, they droop lower away from your body."
Logan: (immediately responding again) "Yeah, like when I'm done with soccer, it's like to my knees!"
Mommy: "No, it's not to your knees."
Logan: "Almost."
Mommy: "I've seen what you've got, it's not to your knees."
Logan: "Still. Almost."
Lilly: "Can we be done talking about this now?"
Mommy: "Yes, unless you have any other questions?"
Logan: "I have one. Why when you're having sex do you have to make all those noises?"
---Parents exchanging nervous, embarrassed looks across the counter---
Mommy: "Well, we told you. It feels good. It's like taking a bite of the best desert you've ever had and sighing."
Logan: (with a disbelieving look on his face) "That's weird."

That was the last of their questions. We went on to explain to them that each and every family has a different philosophy as to when and how and what they would tell their children and that they did not have the right to tell anybody they knew what we had talked about. We have a rule at dinner time that whatever gets said at the dining room table will not be shared with anyone but the four of us. We reiterated that rule a bit more forcefully with this conversation. We also told them that we had told them exactly how it works. That we didn't sugarcoat or lie to them in any way and that they should feel free to come to us if they hear conflicting information or they have more questions. We stressed to them that it is important that they have accurate information when it comes to this stuff and that no matter what the question we will answer it truthfully.

And so we were done. That night when Brandon and I went to bed we giggled about some of the expressions the kids had on their faces when we explained some things. We laughed about our own reactions. I would've paid someone to have videotaped it - it was hilarious. But we weren't shy about telling them that some of this stuff can be embarrassing, even for adults to talk about. We wanted to be sure that they knew that all of it - the wondering, the questions, the embarrassment, the silliness of it - was all normal.

Best laid plans, right? In the end it wasn't exactly the way we had planned to have The Talk, but in my opinion it worked out a hundred times better.