Thursday, September 15, 2011

Line Cutters

I take Zoe back and forth to school.  Making that decision also meant that I'd be transporting other children back and forth to school as well as I am a licensed in-home childcare provider and that every time we  had to make the trek to school, essentially 6 kids had to make the trip too.  But we made the decision to do so because A) I have the luxury of being able to do so and B) We just didn't want her on the bus for an hour so she could travel half a mile away to the school.

It means a lot to me to be able to drop her off at school and see her enter the building.  It makes me feel like she's safer, I guess.  Conversely, being able to drive up and pick her up makes me feel good, too, because - I'll be honest with you - I miss her a lot during the day.

At her school (which houses Pre-K, Kindergarten, and 1st Grade), there is a "pick-up line."  On any given day the line will reach down the hill that you drive up from the street to reach the school and around the curb & down the street.  This is also the entrance for the school buses to use to get in place for the pick up of children.  It's pretty common knowledge that you don't park "on the hill" because doing so makes it difficult for the school buses to enter and park.  So what happens?  I park on the street, with my turning signal on (which, in a perfect world, would mean that I'LL BE TURNING INTO THE FREAKING PARKING LOT NEXT).  But every day there are jackasses that drive around me and park in front of me.

They're line cutters.

I hate line cutters.  When they cut in front of you in line it's like they're saying, "Look, I know you've been parked and waiting here for the last 5 minutes.  But your time doesn't mean anything.  I'm much more important than you, so clearly I deserve to just be in line any place I choose.  So suck it."

Not only does it piss me off that they do this, but to me that sends the message that they're "easy way out" people.  They don't really care what happens to others as long as they get what they want.  And that's a pretty shitty message to send to your kids.  Inevitably, these are the same people that roll up to pick up their kids, cigarette blazing, and on their cell phone.  When their kid gets in the car, they don't even speak to them. 

So, I guess the lesson I'm teaching my kids is:  Sometimes you have to tolerate idiots.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


Monkey is my youngest and last child.  A and I made a conscious decision that she completed our family.  So I guess in some way, knowing she was it, we've babied her much more than we did Zoe.  And because Monkey is so headstrong and willful, I suppose I could confess that we've let her get away with much more than we ever did Zoe.

I realize that's not fair.

But another confession?  There are some days where you just have to pick your battles.  There are some days when, after about the sixth hour of screaming, you give in.  I'm not proud of that, and I know it's not ideal.  I know that psychologically it's telling her, "scream and you get what you want."  I get all that.  But some days it just happens.

But let me tell ya'll.  Backtracking and trying to fix that is HARD FREAKING WORK.  She's older now and (as all mothers would say) very bright.  I can reason with her now, and she understands logical thought (sometimes).

When we started using sticker charts with Zoe for behavior modification and to teach her the value of contributing to the family through daily chores, Monkey was far too young to understand the concept - or perhaps it was even before she came along, I can't remember.  But as Monkey got older, she wanted a sticker chart too.  Now that she's 3, the sticker charts actually mean something to her and she earns them and she's understanding the system well.  Once it's filled up, she gets to exchange it for a small prize or a playdate with a friend.

It's working - this week.  Yesterday was a really tough day on the two of us.  She pushed and pushed and pushed and I didn't give much.  I compromised with her (for I feel that's an important lesson too), but I didn't cave, no matter how loud she got. 

I still think this is fixable.  Wish me lots o' freakin' luck.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

There I Go Again

I have abandoned this blog all summer and again have toyed with deleting it but just can't seem to.  I guess I have more to say.

Sometimes I look at Zoe and Monkey and the sight of them makes me want to cry.  I do confess that sometimes I think I am a horrible mother and that I'm messing them up in a terrible way.  They're both wonderful children, really.  But sometimes I catch one of them out of the corner of my eye and I'm floored by them.  I want to cry with such joy that I had a hand in creating such wonderful and perfect lives.

They are headstrong.  They are both a little wild.  And they're both loud.  But they're supposed to be, whether I have a headache or not, or I'm tired or not.  They're supposed to be like this, for children's imaginations don't know the boundaries of a grown-up's headaches or exhaustion. 

My children are healthy.  For the most part they are happy.  And another confession?  I'm terrified that the time I have with them is slipping away far too quickly.

I'll try to write here more often.  If you read this blog, please take a moment to let me know.  Share with your friends.  Us parent-types have to stick together.