parenting – Page 9 – Tough Bananas

Lost in Translation

There’s a lot involved in raising children. We are responsible for teaching them social skills, personal hygiene, ABCs, colours, what not to lick and that you should not vacuum your brother. I thought we were doing a pretty good job getting all the basics covered with our fourth son, but somehow we’ve dropped the ball with communication.

No matter how we explain it, how often we repeat it, how we model its use in correct context, Little does not seem to know what “I’m hungry” means.

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Little, please put your cars away.

No, I hungry.

We’re not having gum right now.

Why won't you give me back my marble when clearly I am wasting away here? — Why won’t you give me back my marble when clearly I am wasting away here?

But I hungry.

Please leave your bib on.

I hungry.

You can watch a show later.

Please?! I hungry.

Don’t sit on your brother.

I hungry. Please.

We’re all done drinking pop.

But I hungry.

Do you need to use the potty?

I hungry.

We can do play doh in a minute.

But I hungry.

You can go get your own water bottle. It’s upstairs.

I huuuungry.

This is Mommy’s coffee. Hot. No touch.

I so hungry.

——–

We’re at the point now where I’m going to give up and just hope for the best. Maybe he’s on to something. This might be a genius tactic for getting out of undesirable things. Actually, I think I might try it.

Mommy, someone peed on the floor.

Sorry, I hungry.

Just fold your hands. Please.

Meal time.

We gather our family around the kitchen table to partake of a carefully prepared meal. The boys have graciously helped to set out the plates and have only asked six or seven times why we cannot have pop to drink.

Once we have settled in, everyone waits patiently for a serving. And no one snaps an irritated “hold on a second can’t you see I’m helping your brother why don’t you go get the milk yourself?”

No. Our family is happy to spend this quality time together.

“May I please have an extra serving of vegetables, Mother?”

“Dear brother, would you mind passing me the butter when you are finished with it?”

“Here, allow me to get an extra spoon, Father – it’s no trouble at all.”

“No dessert for me, I am absolutely stuffed from that delicious rice concoction – adding extra mushrooms was inspired!”

“Mommy, you look tired, tell us about your day while I go put some coffee on.”

As we wrap up this delightful family time of conversation and replenishment, Bearded Husband passes me the family devotion book to read. The boys all listen attentively and ask how the truths presented can be applied in their lives. This is followed by a short prayer.

“Alright, everyone, let’s pray. Quiet, please. Close your eyes, Little. Eyes closed. Shhh. SHHHH. Listen. How does God want you to act at prayer time? JESUS WOULD NOT PICK HIS TOE JAM AT THE TABLE.”

(Only one of those quotes is true – can you guess which one was actually said? Take a moment, it’s tricky.)

My 5 Rules for Eyes-Closed Tag

We planned to go skating, tobogganing (American translation: sledding) and play some shinny (street hockey) with the neighbours. But what do you do when it’s too cold outside even for hearty Canadians like ourselves? After multiple races on the Wii, a game of “Apples to Apples” that got a little too physical, and some heated debates about various pronunciation of words, we moved things to the basement. I never know how these games get started, but I was quickly roped into playing another game of “Eyes-Closed Tag”.

To play this extremely safe game, one person is It and closes his/her eyes while attempting to find other people in a sectioned-off area of the basement. If you are tagged, you are then It. Pretty simple, but we needed a few ground rules.

My Five Rules for Eyes-Closed Tag

1. Protective gear is not mandatory, but do move slowly to avoid serious injury (this applies primarily to the one who is It).

2. You can’t hide directly behind someone. Ok, you can, but not behind me. I refuse to be a human shield.

3. Throwing small toys to create a diversion is acceptable and at times encouraged, but try to avoid hitting fellow players.

Nylon pants are noisy - choose your clothing wisely — Nylon pants are noisy – choose your clothing wisely

4. No peeking.

5. No, really – no peeking.

A few extra bits of advice….

According to BH, if you don’t cheat and really keep your eyes closed then “your other senses will be even stronger” (I think he has watched “Daredevil” too many times). The truth is, we all know when you don’t – subtlety is not your strong suit. Plus, only peekers completely avoid bumping into things for the entire game – you are not that skilled.

It’s okay if you prefer to watch, but if you’re going to give hints to your brother keep in mind that “he’s right there. Right there. RIGHT. THERE.” while frantically pointing, really tells nothing (please see Rule #5). Also, consider learning your Left and Right.

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Your turn – what questionable games did you devise as a kid? Was a helmet required?

I Never Knew

As the adults in the lives of young children we seem to spend so much of our time teaching them. And we do. By our words, our actions, our inaction, by how we spend our time with them. But the small children in my life have taught me a lot. Before I became a parent, I did not know so much.

I never knew how selfish I could be.

I never fully grasped how much my parents love me.

I never knew how much I would appreciate those teachers who really get to know their students and meet them where they are. Thank you.

I never knew how outraged I would be when another kid hurt one of my boys.

I also never knew how upset I would feel when my toddler hit a non-family member (but he certainly found out in a hurry).

I never knew how selfish I could be.

I never knew how much my attitude and response impacts those around me.

I did not realize that sometimes a hug and a kiss really can make it all better.

I never knew the true power of the words, “I don’t know – what do you think?”

I never knew that milk does taste different depending on the colour of the cup you use.

I never knew that I could enjoy buying clothes for small children even more than for myself. Or that shopping for new socks could be an outing on its own.

I never knew how selfish I could be.

I never knew my heart could grow so big and yet always be so full.

I never knew the truth behind the phrase, “I might not like you right now, but I will always love you.”

I never knew that raising our family together would make me love and appreciate my husband even more.

I never knew how amazing giggles sound.

I never fully grasped how much my parents love me.

I never knew how flawed and imperfect I am.

I never knew, really and truly knew, how selfish I could be and yet how much I would be willing to give up for the sake of the four boys I call my own.

I never knew that having children would give me a clearer glimpse of just how much God loves me. Selfish, flawed, imperfect me.

I never knew. But I’m beginning to.

Merry Christmas – Go Back to Bed

“Mommy! MOMMY! MOM-EEE”

I half opened one eye to peer at the alarm clock. It read 6:30. SIX THIRTY?! We have a standing policy that you pretend to sleep until seven. In an effort to stop this early wake up from spreading, I staggered to the Littles’ room to see what was the matter.

“What!?” I growled, discovering my throat was a dry and sore.

“When’s it going to be morning? It’s taking sooo long,” said the four-year-old.

“Sooo long,” echoed Little.

“Not for thirty more minutes, you need to be quiet in your bed.”

As I turned to go back to my room I saw that Big’s light was on. Great, another one up early, just going to pretend I don’t notice.

I snuggled back into my still warm bed and try not to think of my to-do list. Less than ten minutes later:

“No, YOU stop it!”

“Stop it.”

“No, YOU stop it.”

I stomped in quiet rage back to the Littles.

Through gritted teeth I told the four-year-old, “Santa won’t be bringing you presents if you aren’t quiet now. It’s too early.”

“Kay,” replied Little.

Once again I snuggled in for just twenty more minutes. Moments later I heard the steps of Big creeping slowly to my side.

“Leave. Mommy. A. Lone.” whisper-yelled Bearded Husband (my hero).

Five minutes later Littles started bickering again, probably about who stole the toddler’s belly button this time.

My sweet husband, who knows I’m not a morning person, got up to face the day. That’s when Big returned and quietly said:

“Your clock is wrong, Mommy. Every other clock in the house says that it’s 7:45.”

This alarm clock radio is older than I am.

I am the proud owner of a plug-in alarm clock radio. To reset it you have to hold down multiple buttons. We’ve had a lot of power outages due to a recent ice storm. It flashes 12 until you fix it. Around midnight the night before, I changed the time. Turns out I set the alarm for the correct time, not the clock.

If anyone is looking for a last minute gift idea, I might be in the market for a battery operated bedside clock.

My Five Rules: Ice Storm

When you are ~~trapped~~ enjoying a day at home due to an ice storm, there are a few simple rules to keep everyone happy.

1. You may only play the “Snoopy vs. The Red Baron” 100 times on the record player if:

a) you let it finish

b) turn the volume down

c) LET IT FINISH

d) stop changing the speed.

2. Attendance at the family meeting is mandatory. Agenda as follows:

I. Bickering: What’s your role?

II. It’s an Ice Day, not the end of the world. Snacks will be served at their usual time. Stop asking.

III. Where can you play “Chase?

3. If Mommy’s eyes are closed, leave her alone. (NOTE: This rule applies to most days.)

In the event that the power goes out:

4. Do not open the fridge unless it is life or death.

5. When reading in the makeshift camp, no methane emissions of any kind.

We're in this together, no Dutch Ovens. — We’re in this together, no Dutch Ovens.

Remember that time?

Remember?

When you recall fond memories it’s about something that happened, not a “thing”. Even if it’s a special gift, that Cabbage Patch doll you were longing for, there’s a story behind it. It’s not just the doll, it’s the story of how it became yours. The real gift is the story.

What matters is the story.

My friend and I have an ongoing conversation about how trips and events are special, but what our kids will remember is the time we spent with them. Vacations are great and can be the catalyst for memory-making, but it’s the time we are together that counts.

You know what our boys ask for the most? Aside from treats and screen time, they are kids after all. Our time.

Play with me. Read to me. Listen to me. Tell me I matter. Show me I am important, that I’m valued.

“Can we go to a movie just you and me, Mommy? As part of my birthday present?”

“Wrestle with me, me, Daddy.”

“Can we go on a breakfast date?”

“Will you take just me to the store?”

Time.

And stories.

“Tell us about the time you threw the carrot cake on the ceiling, Daddy.”

“Tell us the story of Uncle Rob running into the glass door.”

“Tell us again about the time your neighbour caught a skunk and Grandpa told you to throw pebbles at the trap to see what would happen.”

“Tell us again how Auntie broke her arm.”

Tell us again.

Stories. Remember? Remember that time?

We’re creating stories with every meal we eat together, with every crazy family dance time, with every time we patiently wait for an unsuspecting family member to exit the washroom so we can yell “Boo!” With every family movie night.

“Remember the time Big poked the kiwi?”

“I didn’t poke it!”

“We saw you!”

“It just looked like I did.”

“I watched you pick it up and your finger went right through the skin.”

“No, the hole was already there.”

I can recite this script verbatim because we have jointly retold it dozens of times. It even has a theme song. It’s become Moyer family folklore. It’s one of our stories.

Remember? Remember that time?

Time.

“For Christmas I want to take you for frozen yogurt to that shop you said you wanted to try, Mommy. Can we go today? I can show you how it works, you make it all yourself. I’ve got enough money for both of us.”

And so we add another story to our collection.

Remember?

“Remember that time we went for yogurt, just the two of us, and I got coconut and gummi worms and you got two flavours?”

Remember that time?

My Five Rules: Playtime

I never thought I’d have to lay down these ground rules for playtime.

1. Yes, it counts as playing “Perfection” even if they don’t set the timer. Because the littles are two and four, that’s why.

2. You can only make a Brother Sandwich if all parties agree. Beforehand.

Three layers - a new record! — Three layers – a new record!

3. We might live in Canada, but you can’t toboggan in the summer. No, really. Otherwise someone will get hurt – wait, he just did.

4. Cigarette butts you find at the ball diamond are not acceptable cargo for your trucks and diggers. No.

Load 'em up, brother! — Load ’em up, brother!

5. Brothers who choose to fight and bicker despite several redirections and reminders will spend some quality time together on the “Get-Along Chair”. You’ve been warned.

Rules for playtime – got some? Want to share?

Space, Schmace

Having four boys means I have no real personal space. I’ve accepted that (mostly). We recently installed locks on our bedroom and bathroom doors which has given me the illusion of privacy. But no.

I’ve tried to claim the master bath as my territory only to have one of the boys politely ask me, “Could you please wash your hair over the sink because you leave so much in the tub that I have to rinse it out before I can take a bath.” “OK, deal – when you guys stop leaving poo deposits in there. That was not a Milk Dud I found on the ledge.”

The boys will be playing happily together upstairs which is my cue to leave them alone. I busy myself with ~~checking Twitter~~ cleaning the kitchen until the noise level reaches maximum volume. When they start coming down wearing my clothes, playtime is over. “Look, I’m a mom”, says the son wearing my bra overtop my favourite sweater as he clomps around the kitchen in my snazzy pair of flats. “Hey, I’ve been looking for those sunglasses!”

I have learned over the past years of the Boy Invasion to hide my Peanut Butter cups in a rotating locations so they never get suspicious. I’ve also learned how to eat M&Ms and convince them I’m snacking on some raisins. Those are mommy treats and I’m not sharing.

Even my purse is subject to their prying eyes and hands. “You’ve got gum? Can I have some?” “Hey where did you get this candy?”

I would like to use the laptop without little eyes peering over my shoulder. “Why are you laughing? Can I see? CanIcanIcanIcanI?”

This lack of boundaries became abundantly clear not long ago as I was gathering up materials and resources before I went to work to prepare for the new school year.

“Hey! Cheese strings! Cheese Strings?! Guys! Mommy has cheese strings. Mommy, why do you keep cheese strings in this pocket?”

“Those are not cheese strings. Stop going through my backpack. SOME STUFF IS JUST FOR ME.”

See? No boundaries.

Editor’s note: They were not cheese strings and I was not prepared to launch into the “talk” just then.

Alone time – how do you make it happen?

No, YOU Go Fish

Two year olds do not know how to play Go Fish.

That will not stop a two year old from wanting to play Go Fish or insisting on playing Go Fish.

You will agree to it because a) he’s cute and b) you’re a good parent.

To play Go Fish with a two year old you will need the following:

– cards

– ibuprophen

– wine

– a whistle

– tissues

– bandaids

Once you’ve gathered up your supplies, it’s time to deal the cards. Five, seven, four, it doesn’t matter how many because you are playing against a toddler. The other opponent might care, so do make an effort to pretend to count them out.

Let the game begin!

Little, ask Big if has an eight. No? Ok, then go fish. Pick up a card. Yes, you. Just one card. One. ONE. The top one. Now hold it with your cards. In your hand. You don’t need to pile them, keep them in your hand. Hold them, hold them. HOLD THEM.

Mommy’s turn.

Little, do you have a four? Yes, you do. It’s right there. I can see it. You need to give it to Mommy. Yes. Yes. Yessss. It’s okay, you’ll get another card. No, not yet, your next turn. Just wait. Wait. Big gets to go now.

Big’s turn.

Mommy, do you have a three? Thanks.

Round Two.

Little, you have a pair. They match. Put them together. Yes, together on the floor. You make a pile. Oh, look! See? They are the same. Yes, they are. No, you don’t hold them now, they go there. Right there. Right. There.

Okay, Big does have them same card, but that’s his match. They stay in his pile. Yes, they do. No, not Little’s. You have your own, see? Those are Big’s. He keeps them.

Keep the bandaids within arm's reach. — Keep the bandaids within arm’s reach.

Round Three.

There is no round three.

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Ever try to play games with young, ego-centric children? How did that go? Was it a glass or a whole bottle of wine experience?