I had a flashback to my childhood this morning. I had gotten in from an eleven-mile run in cold weather. I had put my hair back and worn a hat. With the sweating and the running and the bouncing about of my hair with the hat two things happened: first, the ends of my hair froze with visible moisture on them and second, there was a huge knot that developed from the entire situation.
I didn't know there was a knot for a while. I got in, washed my hair and then I tried to brush it. That's when I discovered the mess. It was big; I don't remember a knot in my hair that big since I've been an adult. Suddenly, I remembered being a child and having my mother tell me I was going to have to get the knots out of my hair. That's right, I said knots, not knot.
My hair was probably about shoulder-length and I was old enough to take care of my hair on my own. I think I would try to go days without brushing it (or thoroughly brushing it) and at some point my mother had had enough and told me to brush them out.
I remember being rough with the brush, trying to get the knots out with sheer force, most likely making them more knotted in the process. I think I resorted to scissors on more than one occasion.
Today, I stood and worked to get the knot out without damaging the hair and remembered me decades ago doing the same thing in the mirror in the bathroom where I grew up.
The Big Boy Update: "I'm going to suck your blood!" My son told me this tonight before bath. Normally, I would have been alarmed at such a strange and violent statement. Tonight though, I just grabbed him and threw him on the bed, telling him he'd have to catch me first. He had just finished watching an episode of Wild Kratts, in which the Kratt brothers teach the watchers about mosquitos. A few minutes later, my son went over in a corner and told me he was laying eggs.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter made our salad for dinner tonight. She peeled and sliced the cucumber, cut up the peppers, selected bowls for us and then added lettuce and the items she'd cut up into each bowl. It was very good salad, we all ate our whole bowls.
Fitness Update: Eleven miles today and the last run before the marathon this coming Sunday.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Friday, March 6, 2015
The Black Dress Story
I've heard my mother tell many stories over my life. Some of them, such as the one where she knew which baby was hers in the nursery at the hospital because I was the one sucking my thumb, jumping up and down on the bed, I heard over and over. The other evening, I heard a story from my mother's past I'd never heard before.
She taught high school math for a number of years before I was born—and before she met my father as well—at a high school in the city she (and I) still live in. She told us she waited until test days to wear her black dresses. She didn't immediately tell us why. Thoughts of her wearing "mourning wear," because she was just one of those terribly difficult teachers in school, crossed my mind. By my mother is not that type.
She said she had one student come up to her one day who had figured out the reason. She said, "Ms. Fulmer, do you wear black only on test days because it's the only time you won't get chalk from the chalk board all over your dress?" Sure enough, that was the reason.
There were chalkboards throughout my entire primary school days and into high school. I don't know that I ever looked at the color of my teacher's clothing and considered how all the chalk board work must have factored into their outfits.
Forty-five years and there are still new stories to be told. Perhaps I won't run out of things to say with this blog after all...
The Big Boy Update: My son mentioned Pahmer in passing to his sister at dinner. I asked him if Pahmer lived in our neighborhood. He said, "Pahmer lives in our house. He's small as a mouse. I don't think you can see him."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter knows there are juice boxes in the garage refrigerator. She's not invited to go and get one whenever she pleases. Sometimes she likes to open the door and get one, "ready" for when it's time to have a juice box. One time, she even put the straw in the juice box. She said she didn't drink any of it, but I wasn't so sure.
She taught high school math for a number of years before I was born—and before she met my father as well—at a high school in the city she (and I) still live in. She told us she waited until test days to wear her black dresses. She didn't immediately tell us why. Thoughts of her wearing "mourning wear," because she was just one of those terribly difficult teachers in school, crossed my mind. By my mother is not that type.
She said she had one student come up to her one day who had figured out the reason. She said, "Ms. Fulmer, do you wear black only on test days because it's the only time you won't get chalk from the chalk board all over your dress?" Sure enough, that was the reason.
There were chalkboards throughout my entire primary school days and into high school. I don't know that I ever looked at the color of my teacher's clothing and considered how all the chalk board work must have factored into their outfits.
Forty-five years and there are still new stories to be told. Perhaps I won't run out of things to say with this blog after all...
The Big Boy Update: My son mentioned Pahmer in passing to his sister at dinner. I asked him if Pahmer lived in our neighborhood. He said, "Pahmer lives in our house. He's small as a mouse. I don't think you can see him."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter knows there are juice boxes in the garage refrigerator. She's not invited to go and get one whenever she pleases. Sometimes she likes to open the door and get one, "ready" for when it's time to have a juice box. One time, she even put the straw in the juice box. She said she didn't drink any of it, but I wasn't so sure.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Keeping On the Cap
Have you ever done something and not known exactly why you do it? Then, you think about it and realize it makes no sense to do it that way? Now, armed with your new sense of enlightenment about this thing you're doing, surely you'll do it differently, only instead you just keep doing it the same old way?
So, I've got this thing...
A while back I got a product to put into my hair after washing it. It was a spray bottle with a cap. I put it in the drawer and every time I washed my hair I would pull out the bottle, take off the cap, spray some into my hair, put the cap back on and put it back in the drawer.
After about a month I got to wondering why I kept the cap around because the bottle wasn't in real need of the cap while it sat in the drawer. I decided I'd throw away the cap the next time I used the bottle...only I didn't. Then I decided I might need the cap in the case I did some traveling and needed to take the bottle with me. Surely, that's the reason I haven't thrown it away and why I diligently take it off and put it back on each morning.
But I also knew I had a second bottle of that spray because they were on clearance when I bought them. If there was a traveling situation in which I needed to make sure that bottle was capped, I could open the next drawer down and get the cap off that second bottle.
And yet I haven't thrown the cap away yet.
There is another spray bottle we got at Christmas from my brother-in-law. If you haven't heard about Poopourri, check out the video on YouTube, it's not only funny, the product absolutely works. This little bottle sits on the back of the toilet months after Christmas and it still has its cap on. In this case, both my husband and I are involved with this bottle.
And yet there the bottle sits, its cap remaining.
Maybe this blog post will be the impetus I need to get over the fact that just because "that's where the cap goes" does not necessarily mean, "the cap still needs to go there."
It's a bit like screwing the cap back on a bottle right before you put it into the recycle container or taking the keys out of the rental car no matter how many signs tell you to leave them there. Putting the cap back on is just what you do when you're done using the bottle.
The Big Boy Update: My son wanted to play "hit ball" today. This is a game a lot like the famous dodge ball game, only my son just wants to take turns running up to you and hitting you with the ball. As we were at an indoor trampoline park and the balls were foam, we all played along and laughed with him.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter got a stomach ache the other day at dinner. This is very unusual for her and I'm glad it did't turn out she was ill or coming down with something. What was interesting though was what she did. She curled up on her arms and knees on the wooden chair because she said the position made her feel better. A few minutes later, I noticed she was asleep.
Fitness Update: I went to the gym today. I talked to the trainer about seeing two orthopedic neurosurgeons and getting the go-ahead from both of them to exercise with no restrictions. I still have physical limitations, but it's good to know I'm not in danger of injuring myself from specific types of exercise.
So, I've got this thing...
A while back I got a product to put into my hair after washing it. It was a spray bottle with a cap. I put it in the drawer and every time I washed my hair I would pull out the bottle, take off the cap, spray some into my hair, put the cap back on and put it back in the drawer.
After about a month I got to wondering why I kept the cap around because the bottle wasn't in real need of the cap while it sat in the drawer. I decided I'd throw away the cap the next time I used the bottle...only I didn't. Then I decided I might need the cap in the case I did some traveling and needed to take the bottle with me. Surely, that's the reason I haven't thrown it away and why I diligently take it off and put it back on each morning.
But I also knew I had a second bottle of that spray because they were on clearance when I bought them. If there was a traveling situation in which I needed to make sure that bottle was capped, I could open the next drawer down and get the cap off that second bottle.
And yet I haven't thrown the cap away yet.
There is another spray bottle we got at Christmas from my brother-in-law. If you haven't heard about Poopourri, check out the video on YouTube, it's not only funny, the product absolutely works. This little bottle sits on the back of the toilet months after Christmas and it still has its cap on. In this case, both my husband and I are involved with this bottle.
And yet there the bottle sits, its cap remaining.
Maybe this blog post will be the impetus I need to get over the fact that just because "that's where the cap goes" does not necessarily mean, "the cap still needs to go there."
It's a bit like screwing the cap back on a bottle right before you put it into the recycle container or taking the keys out of the rental car no matter how many signs tell you to leave them there. Putting the cap back on is just what you do when you're done using the bottle.
The Big Boy Update: My son wanted to play "hit ball" today. This is a game a lot like the famous dodge ball game, only my son just wants to take turns running up to you and hitting you with the ball. As we were at an indoor trampoline park and the balls were foam, we all played along and laughed with him.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter got a stomach ache the other day at dinner. This is very unusual for her and I'm glad it did't turn out she was ill or coming down with something. What was interesting though was what she did. She curled up on her arms and knees on the wooden chair because she said the position made her feel better. A few minutes later, I noticed she was asleep.
Fitness Update: I went to the gym today. I talked to the trainer about seeing two orthopedic neurosurgeons and getting the go-ahead from both of them to exercise with no restrictions. I still have physical limitations, but it's good to know I'm not in danger of injuring myself from specific types of exercise.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
You Can Clean It Up
We have had a rash of messy pants of late. My daughter still wets hers some days and other days doesn't wet them at all. We had her parent/teacher conference today and we all think it's focus-related and no one is particularly concerned. My son, on the other hand, is having another kind of problem.
We think he's not wanting to go to the bathroom when he has to go. He's holding it in and has been having streaked underpants as a result. He's not constipated (one of our first concerns.) I thought it was the removal of the little potty, so I put that back out, but that's not it either. He just doesn't want to go when he has to go.
Today, when we got home from dinner I told my husband I was going to let him clean it up and to give me some leeway on this one. I explained to my son that dad and I were tired of cleaning up his underpants so from now on, when he messed them up, he could clean them himself.
He was mad. He didn't want to clean it up. The mess that was in his pants was going to get messier I predicted. I prepared to cringe because instead of helping him out of his shoes and pants carefully, he was going to do it all himself and his little messy bottom was going to sit on the tiled floor in the bathroom and I was going to bite my lip and hold firm to my resolve.
He was angry. He threatened to put the poop on the wall. I explained that might go very badly indeed for him if he chose to do so. Thankfully, he didn't follow-through on the threat. He tried to clean it up with his pants and smeared it around some. He wasn't listening to me and there was wailing happening.
When he did listen, I talked him through everything. He wanted to be done but after he got himself cleaned up, which turned out to be one of the best lessons in wiping he's probably ever had, he then had to work on the floor. When all that was done he got on clean underpants. He thought it was over. It wasn't.
He had to follow me into the laundry room and wash out his dirty clothes. Normally, this would have only been underpants, but since he was in such a state of despair at the whole prospect of having to clean up after himself, he got it on his socks and pants as well. I showed him how to clean the underpants. And that's when the lesson lost a bit of it's punishment.
He liked cleaning the underpants. It was fun playing in water. When he was done with that he started in on the pants and thought that was more fun. I had to curtail the washing out process for fear of another water mess all over the laundry room. That, and his sister very much wanted to help. The punishment was becoming less of a punishment and more of a fun activity.
I talked to him at the end and told him from now on, he could clean up after himself when he messed his pants up. We'll see if the lesson worked.
The Big Boy Update: See above for the messy pants cleaning up lesson. My son told me at one point he was going to keep all the poop in his body and never go again so he didn't have to clean it up.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: If you ask my daughter how old she is right now, she'll tell you she's sixteen. She's been sixteen for almost a week.
Fitness Update: Nine miles around the neighborhood in the dark this morning. My foot has a cramping part left-over from the marathon-length run on Monday that prevented me from wearing my main running shoes. Hopefully the cramping and inflammation will be better in a day or two.
We think he's not wanting to go to the bathroom when he has to go. He's holding it in and has been having streaked underpants as a result. He's not constipated (one of our first concerns.) I thought it was the removal of the little potty, so I put that back out, but that's not it either. He just doesn't want to go when he has to go.
Today, when we got home from dinner I told my husband I was going to let him clean it up and to give me some leeway on this one. I explained to my son that dad and I were tired of cleaning up his underpants so from now on, when he messed them up, he could clean them himself.
He was mad. He didn't want to clean it up. The mess that was in his pants was going to get messier I predicted. I prepared to cringe because instead of helping him out of his shoes and pants carefully, he was going to do it all himself and his little messy bottom was going to sit on the tiled floor in the bathroom and I was going to bite my lip and hold firm to my resolve.
He was angry. He threatened to put the poop on the wall. I explained that might go very badly indeed for him if he chose to do so. Thankfully, he didn't follow-through on the threat. He tried to clean it up with his pants and smeared it around some. He wasn't listening to me and there was wailing happening.
When he did listen, I talked him through everything. He wanted to be done but after he got himself cleaned up, which turned out to be one of the best lessons in wiping he's probably ever had, he then had to work on the floor. When all that was done he got on clean underpants. He thought it was over. It wasn't.
He had to follow me into the laundry room and wash out his dirty clothes. Normally, this would have only been underpants, but since he was in such a state of despair at the whole prospect of having to clean up after himself, he got it on his socks and pants as well. I showed him how to clean the underpants. And that's when the lesson lost a bit of it's punishment.
He liked cleaning the underpants. It was fun playing in water. When he was done with that he started in on the pants and thought that was more fun. I had to curtail the washing out process for fear of another water mess all over the laundry room. That, and his sister very much wanted to help. The punishment was becoming less of a punishment and more of a fun activity.
I talked to him at the end and told him from now on, he could clean up after himself when he messed his pants up. We'll see if the lesson worked.
The Big Boy Update: See above for the messy pants cleaning up lesson. My son told me at one point he was going to keep all the poop in his body and never go again so he didn't have to clean it up.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: If you ask my daughter how old she is right now, she'll tell you she's sixteen. She's been sixteen for almost a week.
Fitness Update: Nine miles around the neighborhood in the dark this morning. My foot has a cramping part left-over from the marathon-length run on Monday that prevented me from wearing my main running shoes. Hopefully the cramping and inflammation will be better in a day or two.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Child Swap
My neighbor and I are discovering how useful the, "child swap" option is these days. Her daughter and my daughter like to play together. When they're together at one or the other houses, they play together happily and need little to no intervention by an adult.
We've also discovered our boys like to play together too. Her son is half the age of my four-year-old, but even at two, he loves to play with my son. They like to be rough and play jump on each other. The girls do more gentle things that commonly involved babies, which my neighbor's daughter is obsessed with.
We've done partial swaps, but today we did our first full swap. My daughter went there and her son came here. Her son lasted twenty minutes, which for him was a great success. When he was done he repeatedly called out "mama" and I took him home.
My son loved it. My daughter was so happy. When I took her son home I asked her if she wanted me to get my daughter from upstairs at her house. She said, "please, no, let her stay."
We all love our family members, but sometimes we need a break from each other to go play with someone else.
The Big Boy Update: My son has taken to calling his father, "da da" instead of, "daddy" of late. We're not sure why and today we decided to ask him. My husband asked him, "what do you call me?" To which my son replied, "bread maker."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband put on an end-of-night show for the children. My daughter came downstairs where I was working on the computer to talk to me. Apparently the show on wasn't, "her favorite." She told me she had really wanted to watch Winnie Bah Pooh.
We've also discovered our boys like to play together too. Her son is half the age of my four-year-old, but even at two, he loves to play with my son. They like to be rough and play jump on each other. The girls do more gentle things that commonly involved babies, which my neighbor's daughter is obsessed with.
We've done partial swaps, but today we did our first full swap. My daughter went there and her son came here. Her son lasted twenty minutes, which for him was a great success. When he was done he repeatedly called out "mama" and I took him home.
My son loved it. My daughter was so happy. When I took her son home I asked her if she wanted me to get my daughter from upstairs at her house. She said, "please, no, let her stay."
We all love our family members, but sometimes we need a break from each other to go play with someone else.
The Big Boy Update: My son has taken to calling his father, "da da" instead of, "daddy" of late. We're not sure why and today we decided to ask him. My husband asked him, "what do you call me?" To which my son replied, "bread maker."
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband put on an end-of-night show for the children. My daughter came downstairs where I was working on the computer to talk to me. Apparently the show on wasn't, "her favorite." She told me she had really wanted to watch Winnie Bah Pooh.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Marathon Madness
Uncle Jonathan and I ran a marathon distance run today to prepare for the marathon race we'll be in on the fifteenth of the month. It turned out to be an adventure that left us exhausted at the end.
To start out, we've had snow here. Today was getting quite warm so we hoped the trails would be melted enough to run on. We left shortly before ten o'clock and went into the trails. They weren't runable. You could run in them, and we did for a little over a mile, but it wasn't something you wanted to do. It was slushy and icy and there were pools of water and it was a mental drain to run on it. You had to change your running style to make sure you were placing your feet safely so you didn't slip. As soon as we got to the first intersection, we headed out of the park.
We didn't want to run on pavement, but we ended up running everything but about three miles on pavement. We changed plans and headed to Uncle Jonathan's house. We've never measured the run distance and it turns out to be four-and-a-half miles via the park and greenway routes.
We dropped off hats, gloves and I even left my shirt, running in my fitness bra for the remainder of the trip. We didn't have keys to get into Uncle Jonathan's house on us so we ran a block to our running friends office and used their bathroom and water fountains. Then we headed to the children's school via the art museum paths. We'd never measured that either and it turns out to be a two mile distance via greenways and sidewalks.
We headed away to more greenway via the college campus and ran into downed trees. We had run over branches in the park, but not downed trees that required clambering over. There were large sections of more snow/ice/slush/puddle combination we ran through. I looked at the time at that point and called my husband. I asked him if he could bring my Body Glide in the car when he picked up the children. I was getting some chafing on my arms due to the lack of shirt and the Body Glide would help.
We ran on some sidewalks and then up to the Whole Foods right by the school. We did another bathroom/water break and realized we were well ahead of schedule to meet my husband. I called him back, telling him we were running in his driving direction and to look for us. We met him just before we met back up with another greenway entrance. At this point our shoes were drenched again from a long section of snow-covered sidewalks.
I body glided my arms and chest, trying not to flash the car that passed by. We headed back onto the trail and had a long stretch with almost no snow—but there were more downed trees. We went over one or two and then went under a larger one.
We arrived at a junction of the trails that conveniently had a McDonald's at the intersection so we went in for water. We didn't have any money on us so we went into the bathrooms. Uncle Jonathan filled up his water bottle and I just drank out of the sink with my hands. We noticed both Whole Foods and McDonald's had nice warm water in their sinks. Water tasted so good at this point. We were also eating Gu packets from time to time, which helps on a long run.
We ran more along the greenway, following a creek and then out into a neighborhood when the trail ended. We were heading back towards the house now, but were only at about seventeen miles. The next bit was a mess. We were running on a two-mile stretch of a large road with sidewalks on both sides and lots of loud traffic. We still had to deal with spots of snow from time to time and some more downed tree branches. We were both wanting to get off the road into some more peaceful running paths.
We decided to go home the way we'd headed out so we made our way on sidewalks and paved greenway back to the park entrance. We got water and were disappointed to see, in the over fifty-degree weather that the trails in the park were still snow-covered. "How bad could it be," we though and decided to run a bit further in to check the status of the trails further up.
They were bad. We turned around shortly and sloshed through over a mile of messy, more melted and possibly more dangerous trail until we got to our home park exit. We were tired but we had four miles left to make the marathon distance. But we were home so we stopped in at the house to go to the bathroom. I chugged a Gatorade and then we headed back out.
Our feet hurt. Our legs hurt. This wasn't the marathon we had anticipated when we started out, but we made the distance running the last miles in the neighborhood.
Before we were so exhausted, we talked enthusiastically about how this was the biggest running adventure we'd ever had. It definitely was. It worked our legs and feet in different ways and I'm sure that added to the challenge. I also got a nice sunburn from the nice sunny day we had during the whole run. But right now, I'm very tired. Tomorrow and in the future, it's going to live on as the crazy marathon training run.
I'm glad we did it. I'm glad we made it. I'm going to bed.
The Big Boy Update: Playing games with daddy. I came downstairs tonight shortly before bed time to find my husband playing a video game on the television and my son holding a second controller. Daddy had been teaching my son how to play several games, Sonic the Hedgehog one of them. He said he did very well and was happy to wait his turn.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter is not into girly things for the most part. Yesterday morning she came downstairs and said, "mom, I want to watch Transformers."
Fitness Update: 26.2 miles today in the most crazy marathon style. As an aside, this is also the start of the fourth year my husband and I have been tracking our weights. I'm holding steady to my ideal weight range goal. I wish I didn't have to watch what I eat, but after four years, my desire to eat food is greater than the amount of food my body needs.
To start out, we've had snow here. Today was getting quite warm so we hoped the trails would be melted enough to run on. We left shortly before ten o'clock and went into the trails. They weren't runable. You could run in them, and we did for a little over a mile, but it wasn't something you wanted to do. It was slushy and icy and there were pools of water and it was a mental drain to run on it. You had to change your running style to make sure you were placing your feet safely so you didn't slip. As soon as we got to the first intersection, we headed out of the park.
We didn't want to run on pavement, but we ended up running everything but about three miles on pavement. We changed plans and headed to Uncle Jonathan's house. We've never measured the run distance and it turns out to be four-and-a-half miles via the park and greenway routes.
We dropped off hats, gloves and I even left my shirt, running in my fitness bra for the remainder of the trip. We didn't have keys to get into Uncle Jonathan's house on us so we ran a block to our running friends office and used their bathroom and water fountains. Then we headed to the children's school via the art museum paths. We'd never measured that either and it turns out to be a two mile distance via greenways and sidewalks.
We headed away to more greenway via the college campus and ran into downed trees. We had run over branches in the park, but not downed trees that required clambering over. There were large sections of more snow/ice/slush/puddle combination we ran through. I looked at the time at that point and called my husband. I asked him if he could bring my Body Glide in the car when he picked up the children. I was getting some chafing on my arms due to the lack of shirt and the Body Glide would help.
We ran on some sidewalks and then up to the Whole Foods right by the school. We did another bathroom/water break and realized we were well ahead of schedule to meet my husband. I called him back, telling him we were running in his driving direction and to look for us. We met him just before we met back up with another greenway entrance. At this point our shoes were drenched again from a long section of snow-covered sidewalks.
I body glided my arms and chest, trying not to flash the car that passed by. We headed back onto the trail and had a long stretch with almost no snow—but there were more downed trees. We went over one or two and then went under a larger one.
We arrived at a junction of the trails that conveniently had a McDonald's at the intersection so we went in for water. We didn't have any money on us so we went into the bathrooms. Uncle Jonathan filled up his water bottle and I just drank out of the sink with my hands. We noticed both Whole Foods and McDonald's had nice warm water in their sinks. Water tasted so good at this point. We were also eating Gu packets from time to time, which helps on a long run.
We ran more along the greenway, following a creek and then out into a neighborhood when the trail ended. We were heading back towards the house now, but were only at about seventeen miles. The next bit was a mess. We were running on a two-mile stretch of a large road with sidewalks on both sides and lots of loud traffic. We still had to deal with spots of snow from time to time and some more downed tree branches. We were both wanting to get off the road into some more peaceful running paths.
We decided to go home the way we'd headed out so we made our way on sidewalks and paved greenway back to the park entrance. We got water and were disappointed to see, in the over fifty-degree weather that the trails in the park were still snow-covered. "How bad could it be," we though and decided to run a bit further in to check the status of the trails further up.
They were bad. We turned around shortly and sloshed through over a mile of messy, more melted and possibly more dangerous trail until we got to our home park exit. We were tired but we had four miles left to make the marathon distance. But we were home so we stopped in at the house to go to the bathroom. I chugged a Gatorade and then we headed back out.
Our feet hurt. Our legs hurt. This wasn't the marathon we had anticipated when we started out, but we made the distance running the last miles in the neighborhood.
Before we were so exhausted, we talked enthusiastically about how this was the biggest running adventure we'd ever had. It definitely was. It worked our legs and feet in different ways and I'm sure that added to the challenge. I also got a nice sunburn from the nice sunny day we had during the whole run. But right now, I'm very tired. Tomorrow and in the future, it's going to live on as the crazy marathon training run.
I'm glad we did it. I'm glad we made it. I'm going to bed.
The Big Boy Update: Playing games with daddy. I came downstairs tonight shortly before bed time to find my husband playing a video game on the television and my son holding a second controller. Daddy had been teaching my son how to play several games, Sonic the Hedgehog one of them. He said he did very well and was happy to wait his turn.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter is not into girly things for the most part. Yesterday morning she came downstairs and said, "mom, I want to watch Transformers."
Fitness Update: 26.2 miles today in the most crazy marathon style. As an aside, this is also the start of the fourth year my husband and I have been tracking our weights. I'm holding steady to my ideal weight range goal. I wish I didn't have to watch what I eat, but after four years, my desire to eat food is greater than the amount of food my body needs.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
The Pacifiers
My children had pacifiers when they were smaller. You're given pacifiers at the hospital and you see them in babies mouths all around and even though you think you're not going to resort to them, you do. You cave. Your ears rebel and you find the pacifier and you stick it in the little wailing mouth and then there is silence...blissful silence.
How much do you give in to the pacifier solution though? It works well. It works too well. It works so well that it's easier to give your older, now small child the pacifier than deal with the complaining and screaming and not sleeping and oh yes, still crying, child. So you set boundaries and rules. Pacifiers can be used in the car and in the bed during naps and night time. Nowhere else. Or wait, okay, the stroller too. And there's one in your diaper bag in the case of an emergency. (Trust me, there will be an emergency.)
Which type do you use? Do you use the ones they gave you in the hospital because if they gave them to you there, then they must be the best. But are those bad for tooth development? Are you cursing your child with bad, buck teeth simply from selecting the wrong pacifier? You'd better go buy one of every kind. Then, because babies are master manipulators, you try them all and let your child use the one they like the best, regardless of the merits of that brand or design. Don't forget to buy twelve or twenty of them though and stick them everywhere, just in case you lose one.
Then there is the weaning. That's fun because your child is old enough to disagree with you and do so in the most annoying of ways. They're also smart enough and mobile enough to find where you've hidden them. They haven't been thrown away—oh no—because there is sure to be one of those, "emergency situations" in which you really, really need to get to sleep and you don't feel like another sleepless night of a pacifier-less child trying and failing to sleep.
Eventually, all the pacifiers are gone and the children don't need them at all any more. At this point you look at their little teeth and say, "doesn't look like they came in too crooked." You then pat yourself on the back because by implementing, "operation pacification" (you made up this term, by the way,) you singlehandedly prevented the terrible outcome of a child who sucks their thumb. Removing the thumb is a lot more involved than throwing away some worn-out pacifiers.
In our case, it wasn't that extreme. Well, okay, some days it felt like it was. Overall, our children were mostly easy. Yes, they liked their pacifiers, but we kept it reasonable. They weren't thrilled at having them removed, but they adapted fairly quickly. As we pulled back on pacifier use, I put the pacifiers in a bag in their closet. When they were done I forgot about the bag. That is, until today when my children found it.
They were ecstatic. They remembered their pacifiers, although they could enunciate better now so they asked me how to say the word and then they tried out saying, "pacifier." Then they ran back upstairs with the baby dolls and a bag full of pacifiers they were excited about but didn't really want to use anymore.
The Big Boy Update: My son has taken to calling his father, "dada" suddenly. He's been calling him, "daddy" all along. Both names are still used, but we're not sure where the preference of dada came from.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: When my children found the pacifier stash today, my daughter was very excited. She showed them to me and held them and looked like she was holding a huge bag of candy she was so excited. Tonight when I was getting their beds ready for sleep (removing trucks, books, legos, etc.) I found not one, but six pacifiers in the crack between the wall and the edge of her mattress. This is an entirely different bed, but when she was in her crib, she used to hide her extra pacifiers in the same place. I felt a little bad, taking away all her cleverly hidden treasures.
How much do you give in to the pacifier solution though? It works well. It works too well. It works so well that it's easier to give your older, now small child the pacifier than deal with the complaining and screaming and not sleeping and oh yes, still crying, child. So you set boundaries and rules. Pacifiers can be used in the car and in the bed during naps and night time. Nowhere else. Or wait, okay, the stroller too. And there's one in your diaper bag in the case of an emergency. (Trust me, there will be an emergency.)
Which type do you use? Do you use the ones they gave you in the hospital because if they gave them to you there, then they must be the best. But are those bad for tooth development? Are you cursing your child with bad, buck teeth simply from selecting the wrong pacifier? You'd better go buy one of every kind. Then, because babies are master manipulators, you try them all and let your child use the one they like the best, regardless of the merits of that brand or design. Don't forget to buy twelve or twenty of them though and stick them everywhere, just in case you lose one.
Then there is the weaning. That's fun because your child is old enough to disagree with you and do so in the most annoying of ways. They're also smart enough and mobile enough to find where you've hidden them. They haven't been thrown away—oh no—because there is sure to be one of those, "emergency situations" in which you really, really need to get to sleep and you don't feel like another sleepless night of a pacifier-less child trying and failing to sleep.
Eventually, all the pacifiers are gone and the children don't need them at all any more. At this point you look at their little teeth and say, "doesn't look like they came in too crooked." You then pat yourself on the back because by implementing, "operation pacification" (you made up this term, by the way,) you singlehandedly prevented the terrible outcome of a child who sucks their thumb. Removing the thumb is a lot more involved than throwing away some worn-out pacifiers.
In our case, it wasn't that extreme. Well, okay, some days it felt like it was. Overall, our children were mostly easy. Yes, they liked their pacifiers, but we kept it reasonable. They weren't thrilled at having them removed, but they adapted fairly quickly. As we pulled back on pacifier use, I put the pacifiers in a bag in their closet. When they were done I forgot about the bag. That is, until today when my children found it.
They were ecstatic. They remembered their pacifiers, although they could enunciate better now so they asked me how to say the word and then they tried out saying, "pacifier." Then they ran back upstairs with the baby dolls and a bag full of pacifiers they were excited about but didn't really want to use anymore.
The Big Boy Update: My son has taken to calling his father, "dada" suddenly. He's been calling him, "daddy" all along. Both names are still used, but we're not sure where the preference of dada came from.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: When my children found the pacifier stash today, my daughter was very excited. She showed them to me and held them and looked like she was holding a huge bag of candy she was so excited. Tonight when I was getting their beds ready for sleep (removing trucks, books, legos, etc.) I found not one, but six pacifiers in the crack between the wall and the edge of her mattress. This is an entirely different bed, but when she was in her crib, she used to hide her extra pacifiers in the same place. I felt a little bad, taking away all her cleverly hidden treasures.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)