Category: cheeky monkeys

Since becoming a stay-at-home mom four years ago, I am often asked what I do all day. Sometimes I have no words to fully describe the experience. After all, anyone  absurd enough to ask such a question couldn’t comprehend the answer anyway. (News flash. Parenthood. It’s tough.)

Other days I have approximately three hundred and eleven. Today was one of the latter.

For the past three days, Lou has been begging to wear her Halloween costume. Because I’m such a lazy amazing mom, this morning I finally gave in.

Come on, isn’t she adorable?! I love this girl!

The kids didn’t want to leave the house (hidden blessing) or do much of anything today. Instead, they happily played beside me while I worked. As I glance up from my computer, I noticed Lou, still in her flower costume, sunning herself in a warm shaft of light coming in through the window. It was so beautiful and perfect that I nearly cried.

“This is the moment…” I thought. “This is the moment when being home with my children—witnessing their daily joys and discoveries, indulging their whims and fancies because… well, why not? The day is ours!”

Being a stay-at-home mom can be the most gratifying, heart-bursting, sublime joy I think I could ever experience. Even though I made the switch to work-at-home mom late last year, I still get to have the little moments. The best of both worlds, right?

Lou caught my gaze and ran into my arms. As I picked her up, I felt a wet spot on her leg. I assumed the kids had just been splashing water or spilled some juice somewhere in the house until I noticed a trail of “dewdrops” leading to the spot where Lou was sitting… and then a puddle.

She had apparently Houdini-ed her way out of her diaper while still zipped IN her costume…

I whipped her out of her costume and into the bath, because yes, I’ve done this drill several times before… Meanwhile I told Scout to just stay in one place until I could clean up the mess.

When I returned from drying and redressing Lou, I found Scout perched on top of my desk. I proceeded to mop the floor as he literally oversaw the process, commenting on all the places I had “missed”…

My life is a fairytale, but some times it feels more like Cinderella before the ball than the happy ending. Not that I ever get to finish reading anything…

Several months ago, a PG&E gas main exploded in a San Bruno neighborhood. It happened around 6:15 on an otherwise peaceful Thursday evening. Most families were probably just getting home for dinner. One moment everything was fine, then the next…

The fire burned throughout the night. Four people were killed, but many more were seriously injured. One report says thirty-seven home were destroyed in the blast, although another count has it at fifty-three homes. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to lose everything in a flash.

We live almost forty-five minutes away from the blast, but the smell of it was in the air and the sudden terrifying shock of it was in our hearts.

I probably should have switched off the TV, but I just couldn’t pull myself away from the breaking coverage. My son was, unfortunately, sitting next to me at that moment.

As he climbed into my lap,  he asked, “Why is this happening, Mommy?”

All could do was hug him tight and say, “I don’t know, but we should say a prayer for all of those people.”

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This weekend, as the devastating images from Japan kept coming, I was once again unable to tear myself away from the news. Every hour, there was more bad news coming as an 8.9 earthquake and a deadly tsunami were followed by a nuclear explosion and aftershocks every twenty minutes.

This time my son asked “Could that happen to us?” I had no choice but the tell him the truth…

Our home in Silicon Valley sits right along the San Andres fault. While it was tempting to sugar-coat my response,  earthquakes are very much a REAL and possible threat to us. It could happen at any time.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to my child to fret about something that probably won’t happen. So, what to do?

Speak Honestly and Rationally

Not every child can wrap their mind about something so devastating. My son just happens to be the type of kid who can handle a conversation about earthquakes (see below), but what he really needed was reassurance.

I let him ask as many questions as he wanted. I gave him the facts, careful to temper the fear and worry in my voice, and told him that he would never be alone if something like this happened to us. Someone- either his teachers, my dad, or I- will always be with him and that felt like the right way to frame it.

Use Terms They Can Grasp

There are a lot of things I protect my children from seeing—war footage, political punditry, Charlie Sheen… These are things I am just not prepared to explain to them. Our  TV is password-protected to the highest level so I don’t have to.

Plate tectonics, the transfer of energy, and displacement of water, however, happen to be concepts my astute four-year-old can comprehend and I am very equipped to discuss.

Over the weekend, TechSavvyMama wrote a post about Teaching Kids About Earthquakes, Tsunamis, and Japan Through Online Resources and Just Precious compiled a series of link on Earthquakes for Kids.

Both are excellent resource for parents needing to find the words around the unspeakable.

Make It a Learning Opportunity

Every October, the entire state participates in the Great California Shake Out. (In reality, only one out of every five residents actually does.) It’s practice for what to do in the event of an earthquake: “Drop, Cover, and Hold On”

My son’s school makes an big event of it, so he and I simply reviewed what he learned a few months ago: where he and his sister should to duck for cover (“Don’t  try to find Mommy and Daddy. I’ll find you. Just grab your sister and get under the coffee table”), call 9-1-1 for help, etc.

Not only is this good preparation, it also shifts the focus from the scary and unknown to something that can be controlled.

Lessons in Gratitude and Giving

I am NOT talking about the disingenuous  “better them than us” type of gratitude. I’m talking about a real opportunity to  truly appreciate the preciousness of life in this moment.

There are several times, usually when we’re riding in the car, when my son will mention the families affected by the San Bruno fire. He asks to donate his toys or books to “those people who lost everything”. Similarly, this weekend he told me he felt bad for the people in Japan and asked what we could send to them.

Disasters of this scale are reminders of our own humanity. It’s never too early to appreciate what we have and what we can give to others.

Shut Off The TV

I could have been glued to the TV all weekend, but the endless cycle of the images would have only devastated my children further. Instead,  we spent the weekend at the Farmer’s Market, playing in the yard, and doing all the things we normally do. The tragedy was out of sight, but not out mind. I just didn’t want it to be the focus of my children’s mind.

Find Your Own Way of Coping

You may thing disagree with my approach and that’s fine. There isn’t a right or wrong way. Each child is unique in terms of awareness, sensitivity, fears, and comprehension. Gauge your response accordingly.

{image credit: usgs.gov}

Instead of New Year’s resolutions, I set out to eliminate “Eleven Things” my life doesn’t need in 2011. I once read that if you set a goal and work at it every single day,  it only takes 21 days (3 weeks) to make it a habit.  So this is my public “check-in” to hold myself accountable.

I know what you’re thinking. “But, Grace, it’s the 31st day of the month, not the 21st!”  To which I respond, “Yes it is.”

Moving on. This post began as a laundry list of what I’ve been working on and what I haven’t. I wrote it, read it, and was bored to tears. I scrapped it and started over. Instead of a boring list, I want to share with you my biggest challenge of the year- the never-ending clutter. Or as I call it, my war against the toys.

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As you’ve probably guessed, my children want for nothing…

Not food. That they petulantly toss on the floor as if we lived in Medieval Times (the restaurant, not the Dark Ages). Not for clothing nor shelter. Not for love nor doting parents. And most definitely NOT for toys!

Moving three times in eighteen months, I thought we had done enough to significantly pare down our “stuff”. Then, as my baby grew into a toddler and my toddler grew into a boy, the toys didn’t necessarily multiply. They just got smaller and more difficult to track…

There’s the yellow game piece in my bathroom and cards on the kitchen counter that never seemed to make it back to the board game in the office. I constantly trip over cars and bath toys as I run around the kitchen making dinner. I’ve been awoken in the dead of night by a “Speak n’ Say” left in my bed.

Yet, it wasn’t until a few weekends ago that I finally DID something about it. I was feeling super guilty about not spending enough time with my kids because I was on my computer working. But the truth is, I probably only spent a total of three hours writing and it was while Mike was with the kids at the park anyway.

The rest of the weekend was spent tracking down the pieces from one puzzle that was mixed in with the Little People and putting the wand back with the magic set and finding a place for it in the hall closet… et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

That night, I declared my bedroom, the bathrooms, the hallways, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, and the laundry room NO TOY ZONES!

This is how it works…

Any toy my foot touches in the “no toy zone” goes in a bag. The bag goes in a box in the garage. That box goes to Goodwill.

Hey, don’t call me Cruella just yet. My children each have their own rooms, a play room, and commandeered three-fourths of our home office where they can build, trash, and destroy to their little heart’s content. So long as they get picked up at bedtime…

Also, they can have toys in the “no toy zone”, they just can’t keep them there. And they definitely can’t be on the floor. (I enacted this caveat to prevent my rulesy four-year-old from yanking toys from my unsteady and non-verbal eighteen-month-old.)

The kids get puh-lenty of warnings and reminders. We set aside time before dinner for them to put stuff away, but Mike and I help… a lot actually.

Mostly, I want to them to learn 1. how to be responsible for their things and 2. that keeping the house clean is a TEAM effort.

How is it working?

It’s only been a little over a week, and already my kids scramble whenever they hear the “pop” of a garbage bag. Both of them.

Truthfully, the only toys that have made it to the donation pile are the baby baby toys that no one plays with yet always seem to be everywhere.

Also, I’m too cheap to actually toss part of board games or Lego sets, so that stuff would eventually make it back to their boxes undetected after the kids are in bed. (shhh…)

But don’t think for a second that this isn’t just some elaborate rouse to rid my house of the four thousand and thirteen rubber bouncy balls, whistles, and spider rings that come in every party favor bag. It is.

Oh, and all the “chatty” toys that come alive at night. Yeah, I’m looking at you, Speak n’ Say.

I present our 2010 Christmas Card, brought to you by the talented eye of  Jillian Kay Photography and understated elegance of  Tiny Prints.

Am I impressed that our Christmas card looks the pages of a Boden catalog? Completely.

Do I get a kick every single time my mother-in-law calls to report that another dozen or so of our family and friend have called her to gush about my holiday card? MY holiday card?!!!  Absolutely.

“I sent a holiday card too, you know!” she jokingly laments, but I know she can’t stop looking at it either.

Rescue crew has responded and is on the scene. Bystanders witnessed a Lou fleeing the accident. The Lego police are investigating.

Snowmen are under observation, but their hearts are going Thumpy-thump-thump. So it seems they’ll live.

I crack me up sometimes.