Tag Archives: Little Ones

The One Where I Kill My Husband

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Okay – so I seem to have a lot to say for someone who is supposed to be avoiding the Internet… But that will go into full effect tomorrow when I get to work. In the meantime, I HAVE to post a few pictures.

My youngest son, George has been needing a haircut for a while. I gave him one myself a few weeks ago and it was pretty sad looking. So today we decided to let the professionals fix my mistakes. And Chris was in charge of taking George since he was in need of a haircut himself.

This is what my baby looked like pre-haircut:



This is what he looks like now:

FYI: He’s not break dancing in this one. He’s falling off a bike.

Chris is a dead man.

Sexism on the Railroad

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Everyone in the world has “heard of” Thomas the Tank Engine – even if just in passing and not paying attention. But most current mothers of small children are painfully familiar with the minute ins and outs of Thomas’ adventures with Percy, James, Emily and the rest of this merry band of trains.

I had a bit of a break from Thomas and Friends when Oliver turned two and decided that the locomotive characters were “scary.” We never did solve the mystery of how Thomas became frightening, but I assumed it had something to do with their freaky, human faces and rapid mood swings. One minute they’re happy – the next minute they’re crashing into mountains. It makes for very stressful viewing if you ask me…

Just recently, Oliver has gotten over his engine-related phobia, and Thomas has made a comeback in the Hood family DVD player. Chris and I are once again subjected to their little railroad dramas.

Not surprisingly, we’ve found ourselves enjoying some of the old Thomas-related jokes that made us laugh two years ago (this is a well known parental defense mechanism when it comes to annoying children’s programming: we learn to like it, as in, “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em“).

My favorite of these involves the only female train, Emily:


According to Wikipedia, Emily is a Stirling 4-2-2 engine used for high speed express. She is painted dark green, and has large “driving wheels” that I assume have something to do with making her a fast train.

In one particularly gripping episode, Thomas and his friends hear that the Railway Inspector will be coming to see all of the engines and award a prize for the finest one.

Sweet little Thomas and Percy, both steam engines (or “steamies” as they are often called), exclaim over how wonderful it would be to win.

Thomas

Percy

Poor little steamies! Their so called friends immediately assume that THEY are the more likely candidates to win:
Gordon says that “of course” an Express Engine will win.

Emily is quite confident that an engine with “big wheels” is the obvious choice.

And that upstart James thinks that his red paint gives him an edge.

What immediately strikes me is that THE ONLY GIRL ENGINE pins her dreams of victory on her “big wheels.” Did the writers do this on purpose? Is it some sophomoric joke that their internal twelve-year-olds just couldn’t resist? Or was it completely unintentional? I just can’t imagine that they would be so lacking in irony to let that one slip…

And what kind of message does this send to our tiny home viewers? That girls need to rely on their “assets” to get what they want? Thomas and Percy plan to just clean up well because “a really useful engine can look as grand as any engine.” Big he-man Gordon claims superiority based on his status as the strongest of the trains. And James…well, James also relies on his looks… But then again, I always suspected that James might be gay, so he doesn’t count.

Right. So with the exception of gay James, all of the male engines plan to win based on their overall merit. While the one female engine thinks that her larger than normal wheels will mesmerize the Railway Inspector enough to win her a blue ribbon.

It’s sad. And typical. And ultimately, just another case of a fast girl relying on her big wheels to get ahead.

Sound Byte: "What the….?!?"

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It seems like I have a lot funny Eleanor stories lately… Probably because she’s such a little talker now. I typically don’t chronicle every precious anecdote – but one from this weekend really made me laugh.

Warning: There is bad language involved – but it can’t be helped since it’s kind of integral to the story.

On Saturday morning, I was sitting at the kids’ table setting up an elaborate craft project for us to all do together (translation: I was sitting at the kids’ table with my laptop reading blogs and absentmindedly talking to them about the DVD that was playing).

Eleanor – who isn’t into dolls but IS into “ballminas” (ballerinas) came over to me with a little Polly Pocket doll that someone gave her for Christmas. We have very few of these little girly items and I find it interesting that she’s the ONLY one who shows any interest in them (nurture over nature indeed! ha!).

Eleanor: Mommy? What the fuck?

Me: What?!?

Eleanor: What the fuck?

Me: I’m sorry – I must not be hearing this right…what did you say?

Eleanor: What. The. Fuck.

Me: Try again – but slowly. What are you asking me?

Eleanor: Wha….The….Fog?

Me: What the “frog?”

Eleanor: Yeah! Wha the fog?

Me: OH – you want to know where the frog is…because she’s a ballerina…which to you, is the same as “princess”….and princesses kiss frogs!!

Eleanor: [blank stare]

Me: No – it’s funny – because I thought you said… Well – never mind. One day I’ll tell you about this and you’ll think it’s really funny.

Eleanor: What the fuck?

Excessive Accessories

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My Mother in Law is world renowned for her enthusiastic application of jewelry. She is a fan of “the layered look.”

She wears so many necklaces at one time, that my Father in Law has been known to call her Mr. T.


And she’d be the first to wonder why anyone stops at one ring when the space between knuckles so clearly allows for three. Bracelets are a no brainer – to live without the constant jingling of bangles is just no life at all.

Lately, I’ve been thinking that my daughter, Eleanor has inherited this gene.

Since she doesn’t have access to real jewelry, she must be content with draping herself in Mardi Gras beads. But she finds other outlets for her preference for excess.

On Saturday morning I put a Thomas Tank Engine bandaid on one of Oliver’s boo boos, and Eleanor insisted having one too. One on her right hand turned into one on each hand which evolved into one on each hand and one on her forehead:


She would have kept going if I let her.

Then last week, she took barrette placement to a whole new level. She’s already pushing the envelope with her general insistence that she wear one on each side – but this was ridiculous:


And you can’t even see the ones she made me put in the back of her hair.

Yes – she’s just a little Mr. T. in training. And she’s thrilled with herself. She thinks she looks fabulous – and “pities the fool” who dares to disagree.

Sound Byte: One of the Many Reasons That I Love My Daughter

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One evening over the weekend, I was playing with Eleanor in my room. Inexplicably, the boys were nowhere to be seen. This made for an environment more conducive to quiet conversation and hair grooming. Usually there are small male bodies flying in trajectories conducive to massive head trauma. So tranquil hair brushing was a bit of a treat.

When I finished brushing her hair, it looked like very fine corn silk and curled just a tiny bit around her face. When she finished brushing mine, I looked like I needed just a little blue mascara to finish my makeover for the 1985 We Are The World concert.

I then lifted her up to the mirror so that we could admire our work:

Me: Let’s take a look… Oh look!

Eleanor: Look!

Me: So pretty!

Eleanor: Pretty!

Me: What a pretty girl!

Eleanor: Wha pretty girl!

Me: Who IS that pretty girl?

Eleanor: It’s Mommy!

How long will this phase last? Or more accurately, at what age will she decide that I have no sense of style and cause her nothing but embarrassment in front of her friends? I need to appreciate this while it lasts.

Theoretically Speaking, "They" are Awfully Judgey

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They say that you shouldn’t let your children watch too much television, and should instead engage them in educational games to cultivate creativity and intellect.

They say that you should always be consistent with discipline, as it will instill an understanding of consequences.

They say that you should make sure your little ones go to bed as early as possible so that they can get a full 12 hours of sleep. (So necessary for brain development, you know!)

They say that you should feed your children well balanced meals with plenty of fruits and vegetables. (Duh! Brain development.)

They say that you should start teaching your children to dress themselves when they turn two. It’s okay if they don’t master it immediately – it’s all about learning.

They say that you shouldn’t bribe children with treats because it ultimately rewards bad behavior.

and

They say that when it comes to the frustrations of parenting, laughter is the best medicine.

This is all great in theory, but…

They are forgetting the fact that very few children are able to amuse themselves independently with educational games. So if a parent needs a block of time to get something done without interruption, then television is the PERFECT solution. Nothing silences a room full of kids like an hour of Yo Gabba Gabba.

They assume that there is time to commit to consistency. For most parents, this is in fact false. If your oldest son refuses to listen to you when you tell him to get off the table, then yes, you should give him a time out. But if he will not stay in time out without direct supervision, then you must stand next to him. Your younger children will then take this opportunity to climb up on the table too. When you leave the time out area to reprimand the other children, the first one will leave his position in time out. And of course climb back up on the table – because you know, everyone else is doing it. This could result in rotating children in and out of time out for long stretches of time, and SOMEONE has to make dinner.

They must not arrive home from work and daycare pick up after 6:00 p.m. Children have internal timers and will know that only one hour has elapsed if you hustle them into the bedtime routine before 7:30. It is a scientific fact (that I just made up to justify my children’s circadian rhythms) that children need at least 30 minutes of playtime before and after dinner. Otherwise, they can’t even consider going to bed. And if they’re hard wired to be night owls, then it is impossible for them to go to sleep before 8:30 or 9:00. If twelve hours of sleep are required for adequate brain development in toddlers, then we will not be raising future rocket scientists.

They obviously don’t have children who refuse to eat anything but variations of cheese on bread. Such children will not comply with rules regarding good nutrition. They are far more patient than parents when it comes to the choice of eating their green beans or leaving the table to play. They would rather sit at the table until dawn than eat something they deign to be “yucky.”

They must not have children who would be naked at all times if clothing wasn’t forced upon them. It’s flat out logic that a child who knows how to dress himself will realize that he also has the ability to get undressed at any time. Actually, this is inevitable, but keeping them in the dark about how to put pants on by themselves could buy a little time before they learn that they can take them off. It’s never about learning – it’s always about keeping people in pants.

They forget that the fastest way to improve behavior is to offer bribes. It’s a short term solution, but when your three year old is having a tantrum in the middle of a crowded restaurant, you’re not really thinking long term. And seriously – when you’ve been listening to three kids screaming for 30 straight minutes, I dare you to NOT offer them candy.

and

They never tried Prozac.

Special Needs

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I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – but my three year old son, Oliver is weird.

This is at least partly due to something called SPD (sensory processing disorder) that causes him to engage in activities that “feed” his need for a lot of sensory input. His teacher explained this to me by saying, “remember that kid in your class who just couldn’t stay in his chair? The one who would fidget so much that he’d actually fall out of it sometimes?” Well yes actually – I do.

I remember several kids like that. They were the ones who ate paste in kindergarten, fell into the pond on the second grade field trip and consistently got in trouble for “touching people” in more or less every grade through middle school. And now, as it turns out, I’ve given birth to one.

This shouldn’t be too much of a surprise since we speculate that my father was like this as a boy, AND after reading up on the subject, my husband says that he was definitely a sensory seeking SPD child. Thanks guys – you’re the best. The inability to walk past a puddle without lying down in it was one of the qualities I prayed for every night when I was pregnant with Oliver. Right up there with ten fingers, ten toes and the immediate ability to sleep through the night. (I’m just kidding about that last one of course. No first time pregnant woman worries about something as silly as their child sleeping through the night. They’re too busy obsessing over baby names, nursery themes, and important registry items like educational mobiles.)

Oliver also has very delayed speech, and adds a lot of jargoning (the official word for jibber jabber) to his special needs quirkiness. So yes – I have one very odd little duck as my first born. I have of yet to meet any almost four year old like him. And the truth is – I love him for every single bizarre behavior he throws my way.

I don’t just think he’s “special” – I think he’s FABULOUS. No one – and I mean no one – shows enthusiasm for preferred activities like Oliver. He doesn’t just hug you – he flings himself at you. He doesn’t just watch DVDs – he acts out the stories. He doesn’t just finger paint – he body paints. He doesn’t just say “please” – he proclaims PLEASE! He loves to be tickled and will beg you to keep going until even you can’t stand it anymore.

His exuberance makes me smile, then laugh, then cry from laughing so hard. And I think my heart might break when I worry about the people who won’t understand him or appreciate him. The people who will hurt him or bully him. Or make him feel any less than the very sweet little soul than he is. Because that will happen.

Instead of wasting my time on worries though, I prefer to plan for tomorrow, next week and next year. I work with his teacher on figuring out where this speech delay originates and strategize about how to correct it in the short and long term. We have more or less ruled out autism with a pediatric neurologist and are on to having his ultra-waxy ears cleaned out for a hearing test so that he can be assessed by a developmental pediatrician. As Miss Erin (or as Oliver calls her, “Miss Smerin”) likes to say, he is a bit of a puzzle. There seem to be several issues at play and all are fairly elusive…

But I really don’t spend too much time thinking about the problems and the boy that he was “supposed to be.” I’m far too busy enjoying the boy that he is. I recently spoke with a close childhood friend who has an autistic son and we agreed that not only is this better for them, it’s better for us. In describing her own son, she said, “every day, he makes us laugh. He’s just his own little person. While the other boys are in time outs for fighting over what to watch on TV, he’s busy figuring out the remote controls.”

This makes me happy just thinking about it – the fact that it’s okay like our kids for being different. Who got to decide that there is only one way to be anyway?

But the hard reality is that there is a standard for “normal.” That’s the reason that there is a special needs label. And it is our job to take our special needs children and try to teach them how to navigate a world that wasn’t set up with them in mind. It’s hard. And it’s scary. For all of us. But it’s not impossible.

I could so easily fall into despair over the “what ifs” associated with Oliver’s future – but what good does that do either of us? He deserves better than that. I’m the grownup and I set the tone for our house. If I am an emotional wreck over the things I can’t control, then everyone suffers for it. And at the end of the day, he’s not responsible for my feelings – but I am responsible for his.

So if he finds a ball of yarn entertaining, and wants to spend his quiet time unraveling it and then lashing all of the furniture together…fine. I’ll clean it up later (but only after he’s gone to bed since its disappearance could usher in “the end of the world”). If he wants to bring 12 straws to bed with him – or possibly all of the kid toothbrushes we own – who am I to judge? Perhaps this is soothing to him. Maybe he likes the way they feel in his hand – or just the fact that he can hold “all” of something in that one hand. He jargons reasons to me and I just say “fine.” I may do a little struggling first, but in the end, I let him decide. No one ever died from bringing straws to bed.

And every day I see progress – and his beautiful smile. And I know that it will be okay. Even though I understand that he’ll never be the easy going child that glides effortlessly through life. Or…maybe he eventually will. I’ll never know if I don’t do everything I can to help cultivate his self confidence. And his confidence in my own unwavering support.

My son is the greatest gift that I have ever been given. All of my children are. And I refuse to squander any of this fleeting time with them on anger or ingratitude.

I’m not a particularly religious person, but I consider each one of my children to be miraculous. And their current challenges and oddities just make them all the more unique and special. I need all of them as much as I need food and water. I need them to be safe and I need them to be happy. I need them to grow and laugh and love and know that there is nothing more important in this world to me than their existence. And if they have their own special needs – then I will meet them. I will be there from the time that they are unaware of these challenges to the time that their own personal demons emerge. I will always be there for them. Because in the end, I need them far more than they could ever need me.

Weekend Sound Byte: Polygamy as a Feasible Solution

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On Sunday, we all had lunch at a local kid friendly restaurant. We spent most of that hour simultaneously keeping an eye on all three children as they ricocheted around the room in separate directions, encouraging them to actually ingest the grilled cheese sandwiches we ordered for them and moving all condiments as far away from the twins as possible (Eleanor seems to think that ketchup is a delicious “dip” that can be enjoyed as a meal on it own).

As we tried to eat our mediocre food, Chris and I had the following conversation:

Chris: Remember – I once suggested that we take on another wife to help out. So you have only yourself to blame.

Kate: What are you talking about? I told you that I was totally on board with that after I had the twins.

Chris: It would definitely simplify our lives… And hey – I can be fair. We don’t have to get another wife for me. We could consider getting another husband for you…

Kate: What?! Two husbands would just double my workload and nothing would ever get done. I’ll take the sister wife thank you very much.

Chris: Gotcha.

Epilogue: That night we watched the pilot for Swingtown and concluded that we’d have to make due with our two parent set up.

More Random Things About Me

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As a continuation of the “Twenty Five Things About Me” post from yesterday, here are 12 more things about me:

14. I had an unfortunate short haircut in the fifth grade that made me look like a somewhat chubby ten year old boy. No photographs of me from that time exist. I think I destroyed all of them (and the negatives) when I was a vain teenager.

15. If I’m carrying boxes or bags into the house from the car, I feel compelled to do this in as few trips as possible. One trip is my goal. It is not uncommon to see me staggering up my steps with 20 grocery bags draped over my arms. (And my parking spot is about 10 steps away from my door)

16. As much as I love the internet, I still prefer flipping through magazines and catalogs to scrolling through websites.

17. My mother is my best friend. Even though I did go through a really bitchy phase in high school when I criticized her clothes. According to her, that is. I have no recollection of this, but I’ll take her word for it.

18. Sometimes I say things in business meetings and think “I have no idea what I’m talking about.” Usually people look at me like, “she really knows what she’s talking about.”

19. I love the beach – but I don’t really like swimming in the ocean (see #9 re: sharks).

20. I’m fairly certain that I have the most adorable children ever born.

21. When we were engaged, my husband and I took a dance class and I loved it. Not only did I love it – I discovered that I’m really good at it. It’s a talent that would have gone undiscovered if not for the class. Unfortunately, Chris hated it and our future as the next Fred and Ginger ended before it ever got off the ground. I sometimes have a sick little fantasy that one of my sons will be gay and take me out dancing in my golden years (gay guys do that right? I’ll have to ask one of my gay friends…)

22. I can’t remember numbers in long sequences. It requires a lot of effort on my part to memorize phone numbers.

23. I love travel – especially international travel – but I do tend to get a little nervous on planes. Unless I’m sitting in business class – then I just drink a lot of wine. Once when I was on a flight crossing the Atlantic, we had terrible turbulence. I just kept accepting the drink refills that the the flight attendants were offering and watched the first movie that appeared on my screen. It’s amazing how funny Monster’s Inc. is when you’re wasted.

24. I watched Homeward Bound with my kids about 20 times over the weekend and I always cry at the end when Shadow appears on the horizon – just when they think he couldn’t make it. In fact – I’m tearing up just thinking about it. (If you haven’t seen it before, I apologize for the spoiler.)

25. I usually fall asleep on my back with feet tucked up under my knees (like sitting “Indian style” but lying down). I think this started when I was little and so afraid of the dark that I couldn’t bear to have my feet anywhere near where the covers ended (just in case something tried to reach in). Then it probably had more to do with the fact that my feet are like ice when I first get into bed and this is the only way that I can warm them (unless my night owl husband happens to be in bed early – then I just put my feet on him). I know it looks bizarre – but for some reason I find this position very comfortable.

Not the strongest finish – but I’m having a busy day…

I’m not tagging anyone since I think EVERYONE has done this (or is ignoring everyone that tagged them). But if you haven’t been hit by the 25 Things About Me Facebook tsunami, feel free to say that I tagged you.

So What Have I NOT Told You About Myself By Now?

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Several of my friends on Facebook tagged me for “Twenty Five Things About Me” (and possibly a blog friend or two – but I can’t remember…) Anyway – I feel compelled to do this. So here it is:

Twenty Five Things About Me

1. I have never colored my hair. Not once. Not even highlights. I made the conscious decision to wait until I got older and “had to.” My grandmother once said to me, “dear – I hope you won’t color your hair…I DO think that gray hair can be awfully attractive.” I concurred with her opinion as I was expected to, but in my heart, I knew that I will never go gray. I’ll go RED!

2. I pick favorites among my children. But it changes every 30 seconds – so I figure it evens out in the end.

3. I was the only girl in my high school class who didn’t wear boxers under her uniform skirt. I thought they made me look fat. Sadly this caused a very embarrassing incident for me in The Quad one day when a big gust of Spring air gave all of nearby construction workers a view of my not fat thighs.

4. I dream of having a career that I love. But I only started thinking about this in the past few years. Prior to that I was fairly apathetic about the connection of my job to my sense of identity. Sometimes I wonder if this is a sign of a midlife crisis.

5. I have already confessed to an obsession with recorded books. I listen to plenty of current fiction, but one of my favorite authors for listening is Jane Austen. Even though I have actually read all of her books and know the stories well, I find something very soothing about hearing them read in a clipped English accent. Is it me or do days of nothing but needlepoint and gossip by a roaring fire sound really appealing sometimes?

6. I wish I knew how to do needlepoint or embroidery. I would create fabulous throw pillows and whip up Anthropologie-quality tops out of plain vintage shirts and embroidery thread. I should have learned these skills when I had the time…

7. I like being by myself and tend to treat a night on my own like a personal slumber party. After I put the kids to bed and clean up, I’m all about raiding the refrigerator for junk food, giving myself a pedicure and watching “girl movies.” Of course, my husband doesn’t travel that often – so I might have a different attitude if these personal slumber parties were more frequent.

8. I can’t stand gum. I find it revolting. The way it looks just hanging out in someone’s mouth, the sound of it snapping and even the smell of it. ESPECIALLY the smell of it if it’s fruit flavored or even worse, bubble gum. The smell of bubble gum flavored anything makes me want to pass out. Not to make light of actual torture, which is not funny and a terrible reality from which I am lucky to be sheltered…but seriously, I think you’d have to pull out a few of my molars with pliers before I’d allow you to put a piece of bubble gum in my mouth.

9. I have an incredibly high suspension of disbelief threshold when it comes to books, movies and television story lines, but I do tend to obsess over everyday details that I find a little too unbelievable. For example, I can enjoy pretty much anything from Harry Potter to Lost; but I just can’t get past how the Cosbys had all those kids and a TV in their living room, but their couch always looked so clean.

10. I’m terrified of sharks. A condition that has grown worse as I’ve gotten older. All of those news reports about shark attacks in Florida a few years back didn’t help.

11. This blog is the first real writing that I’ve ever done outside of business documents.

12. My wedding cake was the best dessert I’ve ever had in my life: chocolate cake with fondant icing and a buttercream and marzipan filling. I knew that I wouldn’t get a chance to have any at the reception, so I asked my planner to make sure that there was a large piece waiting for me in my room at the end of the night. This was quite possibly one of the brilliant ideas I’ve ever had in my life.

13. My writing style tends to be a little verbose. So “25 Things About Me” can be loosely translated into “Twenty Minutes of Your Life That You Will Never Get Back.” Therefore I will be breaking this into two posts. Check back tomorrow more for 12 more things about me!