Ah, it's that time of year again! The time when I can guilt-free put eggnog in my coffee, listen to Christmas carols all I want and not get stared at as if I'm a weirdo when I'm extra nice to people. I love this season... not just Christmas. Christmas has never been about presents to me (OK, never is a strong word; I WAS five once) but about spending time with family.
We moved around a lot when I was young, so Christmas was the only time of year we could almost guarantee we would all be together. I loved it. I have a large family that is noisy and crazy and volatile and who loves one another very much, even through the insanity. Some of my fondest memories come from the mischief my cousins and I would get up to at the kids table. When else could we interact so openly without direct adult supervision? Ah, memories!
I hate that I don't live close to much of my family anymore. As we've grown, we've spread out and started families of our own. It sometimes feels like it is impossible to visit with family that lives two miles down the road. What can I say? Life happens!
So... this year especially, I'm trying to form some new traditions with my son. I was all over Pinterest trying to find unique things that Dobby, our Elf on the Shelf, could do. Can you imagine my surprise when, three days into it, my son announced that Dobby scared him and wouldn't go within a 5-foot radius of wherever he was? Ugh, I tried my hardest to get him to realize that Dobby is his friend, but I think the idea of a magical being traveling at will through our house every night was just too much for his three-year-old brain.
Alas, don't despair! He went for the weekend with his Papi, and they had a really nice visit with Santa. He came back yesterday ready to accept Dobby back into the fold. So, wish me... I mean us... luck! I'll keep you informed.
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting. Show all posts
Monday, December 3, 2012
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Thank you, Miss Kim!
My deepest thanks to my favorite toddler wrangler for giving me some excellent tips this week. She may have retired for the next few baby-making years, but Miss Kim is my go-to gal for advice on my terrorist... I mean toddler.
He just had his second birthday and got a multitude of toy sets with a million pieces each. When sitting in the middle of his hurricane wondering how on Earth I was going to organize it all on a zero-dollar budget, Miss Kim suggested that I use my clear shoe containers (I have a million of them) to group and organize each set in an easy-to-stack, easy-to-view way. Brilliant! Now, it is much easier for him to choose what he would like to play with and for him to know where to put things away when I'm choosing my battles to win the war.
Today, I told Miss Kim about his temper tantrums. I'm sure every other mother of a young two year old thinks the same as I do, but - man - his fits are horrible! He even sniffs of the possibility that he isn't going to get his way and the screaming starts. I don't know what exactly has possessed my happy little baby over the past couple of weeks, but this little demon can't be stopped once he gets going.
Miss Kim explained about the ABCs of temper taming. A is the antecedent or what sets him off (aka not getting his way). B is the behavior or his reaction (aka the screaming and kicking fit). C is the consequence or how I will react. That's the kicker. The million dollar question. What do I do??
First, I need to reign in my own temper. Hey, he gets his somewhere, and it is not all from his father. After taking a deep breath and taking stock of my ABCs, I have decided to set aside a "Time Out" station for him to sit at until he is finished crying. I explain to him calmly that he isn't to move until he is finished crying, then I ignore him.
If he decides he wants to move before he is finished crying, I stand above him and force him to stay until he is finished. Talk about a battle of wills! Sometimes it becomes a true standoff, but I try to win the majority of the time. Eventually, I'm hoping that he gets the whole concept of time out and tries to avoid it as much as possible.
Miss Kim also suggested an egg timer to give him a concrete end goal. "When the timer dings, you may get up." Anything to help him realize that his behavior isn't going to get him the reaction he wants. Maybe the egg timer is really for me...
Once again, BRILLIANT, Miss Kim! Thank you.
He just had his second birthday and got a multitude of toy sets with a million pieces each. When sitting in the middle of his hurricane wondering how on Earth I was going to organize it all on a zero-dollar budget, Miss Kim suggested that I use my clear shoe containers (I have a million of them) to group and organize each set in an easy-to-stack, easy-to-view way. Brilliant! Now, it is much easier for him to choose what he would like to play with and for him to know where to put things away when I'm choosing my battles to win the war.
Today, I told Miss Kim about his temper tantrums. I'm sure every other mother of a young two year old thinks the same as I do, but - man - his fits are horrible! He even sniffs of the possibility that he isn't going to get his way and the screaming starts. I don't know what exactly has possessed my happy little baby over the past couple of weeks, but this little demon can't be stopped once he gets going.
Miss Kim explained about the ABCs of temper taming. A is the antecedent or what sets him off (aka not getting his way). B is the behavior or his reaction (aka the screaming and kicking fit). C is the consequence or how I will react. That's the kicker. The million dollar question. What do I do??
First, I need to reign in my own temper. Hey, he gets his somewhere, and it is not all from his father. After taking a deep breath and taking stock of my ABCs, I have decided to set aside a "Time Out" station for him to sit at until he is finished crying. I explain to him calmly that he isn't to move until he is finished crying, then I ignore him.
If he decides he wants to move before he is finished crying, I stand above him and force him to stay until he is finished. Talk about a battle of wills! Sometimes it becomes a true standoff, but I try to win the majority of the time. Eventually, I'm hoping that he gets the whole concept of time out and tries to avoid it as much as possible.
Miss Kim also suggested an egg timer to give him a concrete end goal. "When the timer dings, you may get up." Anything to help him realize that his behavior isn't going to get him the reaction he wants. Maybe the egg timer is really for me...
Once again, BRILLIANT, Miss Kim! Thank you.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Go, Good Cop, Go!
For the first time in what feels like forever, I am the fun parent. I brought the baby to Disney, all by myself, and we are having a blast. I even let him have a sugary drink with dinner! (GASP!)
Here is the back story in case you've missed it: I am the primary caregiver to my nearly 2-year-old son, so I'm the one setting boundaries, establishing a schedule and being the bad guy by saying "no". (I'm learning that's a foreign concept to some people.) I am the one teaching him to play independent because I have things that need to get done on a daily basis. My ex husband gets him a couple days a week - when he is able to and if he feels like it - so he is on constant vacation mode and endlessly doing fun things to make up for lost time during the week. I can't say that I blame him too much, except that it makes my job 1,000 times harder. It always takes a day and a half to two days to get the baby back on the program.
The relationship that my ex and I were trying to keep friendly is crumbling fast, so I'm less and less able to rely on his ability to curb the super fun zone into the normal fun zone. Enter my master plan!
I've decided that every once in a while, I'm going to let myself be the fun parent. Since I have been relegated to the Bad Cop role, I figure I can take the liberty of expanding my resume and sharpening my Good Cop skillset. That way, if I ever get into a healthy relationship and have more children, I will have had the practice. If not, then London won't resent me because I'm no fun at all. Great plan, huh?!?
Tomorrow is a full day at the Magic Kingdom, and - who knows? - I might even let him have some chocolate! Go, Good Cop, Go!
Here is the back story in case you've missed it: I am the primary caregiver to my nearly 2-year-old son, so I'm the one setting boundaries, establishing a schedule and being the bad guy by saying "no". (I'm learning that's a foreign concept to some people.) I am the one teaching him to play independent because I have things that need to get done on a daily basis. My ex husband gets him a couple days a week - when he is able to and if he feels like it - so he is on constant vacation mode and endlessly doing fun things to make up for lost time during the week. I can't say that I blame him too much, except that it makes my job 1,000 times harder. It always takes a day and a half to two days to get the baby back on the program.
The relationship that my ex and I were trying to keep friendly is crumbling fast, so I'm less and less able to rely on his ability to curb the super fun zone into the normal fun zone. Enter my master plan!
I've decided that every once in a while, I'm going to let myself be the fun parent. Since I have been relegated to the Bad Cop role, I figure I can take the liberty of expanding my resume and sharpening my Good Cop skillset. That way, if I ever get into a healthy relationship and have more children, I will have had the practice. If not, then London won't resent me because I'm no fun at all. Great plan, huh?!?
Tomorrow is a full day at the Magic Kingdom, and - who knows? - I might even let him have some chocolate! Go, Good Cop, Go!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Different is Different, Not Worse
These are words I have found myself repeating as a calming mantra as I expose myself more and more to people with different parenting styles. I suppose you could say that I am an "It takes a village to raise a child" type parent, but - with a type-A personality in full force - I need the village to agree with my parenting decisions and jump on board with my style... not theirs.
Blessed with a big mouth and a small enough filter where my boca grande gets me into trouble, I have found myself breaking my own cardinal rules about overstepping boundaries. I'm that ever so annoying parent that doesn't want a shred of advice about how you would do it but wants to tell you how it is and how it should be done. Now, before you close this post with a vow to never read my rantings again, understand that I KNOW this is wrong and am working on righting it.
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I have vowed to be more aware of my annoying habits and correct them before they happen. No more correcting other people's children (unless they are about to get physically maimed) and no more expressing opinions when they aren't asked to be shared. (I'm learning the hard way that it is true what they say about opinions: they are like a-holes, everyone has one but no one wants to hear from yours!). I'm going to be a big girl and let every parent make their own mistakes with the expectation that they will let me make mine.
That being said (and here's the fun part!), I'm going to throw out a phrase my cousin often says (the one that has taught toddlers for 7 years and has all kinds of degrees and letters behind her name to back it up - I'll call her Miss Kim from now on), "Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems." Take a look at the children around you - both the known and the unknown - and look at the behaviors you like and don't like.
For example, I don't want my kid to be like that screaming lunatic in Olive Garden, so I correct his public behavior in private before it becomes an issue and teach him how I want him to behave. My dad is always asking me why I'm so strict with the boy at the dinner table since no one is around to be bothered. Basically, if he acts right at home, he will act right in public. I, more often than not, get compliments at restaurants about how well behaved the boy is acting.
I realize this doesn't make me perfect and that I won't get nominations for mother of the year any time soon, but I work hard to do the right thing (whatever that is) to help my boy become an amazing man. Just as I'm judging someone on their crazy parenting decisions, I'm positive there is someone out there judging me on mine. I remind myself daily that it isn't wrong just because I don't agree with it. (Yes, that was a difficult statement to write out loud!) Different is different, not worse!
Blessed with a big mouth and a small enough filter where my boca grande gets me into trouble, I have found myself breaking my own cardinal rules about overstepping boundaries. I'm that ever so annoying parent that doesn't want a shred of advice about how you would do it but wants to tell you how it is and how it should be done. Now, before you close this post with a vow to never read my rantings again, understand that I KNOW this is wrong and am working on righting it.
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I have vowed to be more aware of my annoying habits and correct them before they happen. No more correcting other people's children (unless they are about to get physically maimed) and no more expressing opinions when they aren't asked to be shared. (I'm learning the hard way that it is true what they say about opinions: they are like a-holes, everyone has one but no one wants to hear from yours!). I'm going to be a big girl and let every parent make their own mistakes with the expectation that they will let me make mine.
That being said (and here's the fun part!), I'm going to throw out a phrase my cousin often says (the one that has taught toddlers for 7 years and has all kinds of degrees and letters behind her name to back it up - I'll call her Miss Kim from now on), "Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems." Take a look at the children around you - both the known and the unknown - and look at the behaviors you like and don't like.
For example, I don't want my kid to be like that screaming lunatic in Olive Garden, so I correct his public behavior in private before it becomes an issue and teach him how I want him to behave. My dad is always asking me why I'm so strict with the boy at the dinner table since no one is around to be bothered. Basically, if he acts right at home, he will act right in public. I, more often than not, get compliments at restaurants about how well behaved the boy is acting.
I realize this doesn't make me perfect and that I won't get nominations for mother of the year any time soon, but I work hard to do the right thing (whatever that is) to help my boy become an amazing man. Just as I'm judging someone on their crazy parenting decisions, I'm positive there is someone out there judging me on mine. I remind myself daily that it isn't wrong just because I don't agree with it. (Yes, that was a difficult statement to write out loud!) Different is different, not worse!
Monday, April 4, 2011
TV Rots Your Brains
I'm sitting here practicing the fine art of dish washing avoidance by adding items to my CafePress store and reading community forums when a posting sparked a cute memory. Thus, this posting to you. I don't rightly remember what the insignificant thing that sparked the funny memory was, but I do remember the memory and, yes, I am going to share. But, first, the back story.
I recently read several articles detailing why children under the age of two should not be exposed to television including the link to ADD, lower language and visual motor skills, obesity, sleep disturbances, lazy parenting and a plethora of other ill effects. (If you don't believe me, google toddler television watching and see what pops up.)
Upon reading these articles and realizing that I let my one-and-a-half-year-old son watch upwards of... well, I'm not admitting how many hours of television he watched... I made the decision to cut him back to one to two hours per day, at the most, including what is watched on the DVD player in my mom's SUV. In my own defense, I thought having it on as background noise would serve as the same sort of background noise he would hear at daycare or school. I was wrong. See? I can admit it.
I always saw those parents that had portable DVD players in restaurants or any handheld electronic device in public - aka portable babysitters - and judged them as lazy parents without the attention span to watch or discipline their own children. Having actually popped a kid out and come to the understanding of basic survival skills required to obtain a minute to yourself, my judgement has lifted a bit, but I still don't wan to be that mom. (I haven't changed my mind on child leashes, though.)
On weekdays, that time limit always includes Sesame Street since he responds very well to the lessons taught in that action-packed hour; on weekends, it includes my personal favorite of Phineas and Ferb by Disney. Selfish, I know, but a mom's gotta live, too.
So what's the funny story, you ask? In the past two weeks of the new regime, my son has started "talking" more and picking up on general human mannerisms... including pointing at the television and asking, "Please, Mom?"
I recently read several articles detailing why children under the age of two should not be exposed to television including the link to ADD, lower language and visual motor skills, obesity, sleep disturbances, lazy parenting and a plethora of other ill effects. (If you don't believe me, google toddler television watching and see what pops up.)
Upon reading these articles and realizing that I let my one-and-a-half-year-old son watch upwards of... well, I'm not admitting how many hours of television he watched... I made the decision to cut him back to one to two hours per day, at the most, including what is watched on the DVD player in my mom's SUV. In my own defense, I thought having it on as background noise would serve as the same sort of background noise he would hear at daycare or school. I was wrong. See? I can admit it.
I always saw those parents that had portable DVD players in restaurants or any handheld electronic device in public - aka portable babysitters - and judged them as lazy parents without the attention span to watch or discipline their own children. Having actually popped a kid out and come to the understanding of basic survival skills required to obtain a minute to yourself, my judgement has lifted a bit, but I still don't wan to be that mom. (I haven't changed my mind on child leashes, though.)
On weekdays, that time limit always includes Sesame Street since he responds very well to the lessons taught in that action-packed hour; on weekends, it includes my personal favorite of Phineas and Ferb by Disney. Selfish, I know, but a mom's gotta live, too.
So what's the funny story, you ask? In the past two weeks of the new regime, my son has started "talking" more and picking up on general human mannerisms... including pointing at the television and asking, "Please, Mom?"
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