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Mommy Talk
January 2009
Wednesday January 28, 2009
Posted by: mlaehr at 2:09PM CST on January 28, 2009
There is something extraordinary about my 5-year-old. I can’t really explain it, but people seem to be drawn to him. To know Roman is to love him. As a mom of three pretty great kids, there are things I love about all of them. I love that my 7-year-old son is focused, smart and loves to read. I love that my 20-month-old loves to laugh and how she attempts to mimic actions and words way beyond her capability. I love all my kids equally, but have realized that my middle child is quite an incredible kid. Roman is all heart. He’s a mischievous imp who gets into his share of trouble, but would never hurt someone’s feelings on purpose. He’s a happy-go-lucky kid, whose kindergarten teacher told us last week that she’s never seen him in a bad mood. He doesn’t care if he’s last in line, or last in the classroom in the morning, so long as he had time to talk with his friends in the hall, and was able to say "hi" to as many people as possible. I’ve watched him try to settle disputes between other kids, always trying to do what’s fair and right. I’ve seen him shrug it off when someone isn’t being kind to him in return. It took Roman about one week to win the heart of nearly everyone in his new school this year. Literally. The principal, the office lady, teachers and even some of the middle school kids at his school knew him by name after that first week. During the second week, a woman I had never seen before said hello to Roman as we were walking into the building one morning. "Who is that?" I asked. "The lunch lady," he said. He’s like a rock star. The woman who has taken care of my children while I’m at work since the boys were infants has always held a special place in her heart for Roman. In 5 years I think she's put him in time-out once, and then laughed about it with me. "He was standing in the bathroom going potty and singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ really, really loud," she said. "I told him to quiet down because the younger ones were sleeping, but he didn’t listen. It kept getting louder and louder." Even his naughtiness makes you want to smile. Family members and friends always want to hear stories about him, because his antics never fail to entertain. He’s the most curious child I’ve ever met. He can make the wait time at the doctor’s office pass like nobody I know, asking 35 questions in a row about the equipment. He has to touch and test out EVERYTHING from my red nail polish to lit candles to the garage door opener to permanent markers. Oh, this little boy of mine, the one who loves all animals from pigs to penguins to sea creatures. The one who reprimands me for putting his brother in time out, after his brother smacked him. The one who opens his eyes wide and lifts his eyebrows in surprise to show you he’s paying attention to what you’re saying. I like to tell people I don’t know where this extraordinary child came from. I like to think he simply got the best parts of me and my husband. My goofiness. My husband’s even temper. My curiosity. My husband’s capacity for love. My sense of fair play... and so on. But Roman is also uniquely Roman. Every six months, sometimes more often, we have to take him to a hospital in Milwaukee to have blood drawn. He was born with a medical condition and is on long term medications. They test his blood to see if the doctor needs to adjust his medicine. Roman is only 5 and I think it’s been more than 3 years since he’s cried or even flinched when the technician has put the needle in to draw his blood. Unfortunately, one of the other things he has inherited from his mom is deep veins. Hardly anyone ever pokes Roman in the vein the first time. Most times they have to dig a bit. Gross, right? Earlier this week I took Roman to Milwaukee to have his blood drawn. The tech came in and stuck his left arm, then wiggled the needle around. No blood. The tech tried a new needle on his right arm. After he pulled that needle in and out of few times, I was going to throw up. No blood. "How does the blood get in there?" Roman asks. "Oh, is that why I see a hole in the needle?" "Where does the blood go once it is in the tube?" A second tech comes in and sticks his left hand. Again, no blood. I’m biting my lip in frustration and fury, ready to ask if anyone in the lab knows how to find a vein. The third and final technician comes in. She puts the needle in Roman’s right hand. She starts to wiggle it. She’s ready to give up and send us home. Roman gasps. Just as she was about to pull the needle out, the line that brings the blood from the needle to the tube flashes red. He wasn’t hurt. He was excited to see it work. "Wow," the tech said to me as we got up and started to put Roman’s coat on. "What a good kid. I don’t think I’ll get another one like you ever." No lady, I’m sure you won’t. Tuesday January 20, 2009
Posted by: Janine Anderson at 9:17AM CST on January 20, 2009
Henry digs peanut butter. He doesn't get it all the time, but a few times a week, we give him a PB&J sandwich. It's sticky, and messy, but he enjoys it.
I've been getting calls from family members warning us not to give him peanut butter because of the recalls. Our PB is pretty old - from before Christmas, and we've been eating it for a month. I'm pretty sure that if we were going to be sick from it, we'd already know. But that doesn't stop moms - and peanut-butter-eaters everywhere - from worrying about what to do when the jar runs out. Heck. I didn't order Peanut Butter Patties from the Girl Scouts this year, because I'm concerned. If you're a peanut butter worrier, find out more directly from the FDA, by clicking here. You'll find a searchable database about peanut butter products, so you can figure out if whatever you're using is under the recall. There are sections for candies, cookies, crackers, fruit and veggie products, ice cream, peanut butter and peanut paste, and full lists of all peanut-related products, available for download. More information on the recall is available here. Friday January 16, 2009
Posted by: mlaehr at 8:40PM CST on January 16, 2009
"Were you a good girl today?" I ask my daughter when I pick her up from the babysitter this week. "Yeah," she responds, nodding her little head. I love it. I absolutely love having these types of conversations with my 20-month-old. I love that I can ask her questions that she understands and responds to. But most of all I love that her little personality is starting to shine through. Most people love babies. They're fun to snuggle. They might cry sometimes, but they never talk back. Babies don't dig through the kitchen cabinets, make a huge mess with their toys or fight with their siblings. If they are fed, warm and dry, they tend to be pretty easy. I loved all my kids as babies, but as a mom, I really appreciate the time when start to show you who they are as a person. My daughter toddles across the kitchen floor in her slippers. Her ponytails bob and she swings her arms, walking belly first. She's just happy to be. She'll tell you she's "all done" when she's finished eating, that she's not ready for a nap ("no, nigh-nigh"), and ask for "mulk" when she's thirsty. In recent months I've also discovered that she's bossy. She loves to mimic me and tell her older brothers what to do. "Sit down!" she'll say at the dinner table, or "Put it back," she'll demand when they move one of her toys. This has become somewhat of a problem at the sitter's when she tries to boss around the other kids, who aren't as forgiving or as old as her brothers. But we're working on that. It's also a hoot to have her sing the ABC's. She knows the tune and how to properly say about 10 of the 26 letters. My favorite line? "la, la, la, la, P." I've loved my kids at every stage, but this one - between 16 and 24 months - is probably my favorite. It's all about discovery - for both parent and child. They learn about the world, and you get to learn about them! What is/was your favorite age? Monday January 12, 2009
Posted by: eyoung at 11:43AM CST on January 12, 2009
We were sitting in a restaurant booth, my daughters diligently coloring their children’s menus, when my mom brought up a long-ago friend of the family. She had recently passed away and we were remembering her fondly. An eccentric woman, she had heart, smarts, guts ... and a handful of husbands. "She was married seven times," my mom mentioned as we talked. That was enough to get my 6-year-old’s attention. Her head popped up from her kids’ menu. "SEVEN TIMES!" she exclaimed. "Oh my goodness!" And then: "I’m only going to get married TWICE!" Ba-dum-dum. It was very funny. And as we laughed at her prediction — and only momentarily fretted about her future — I consciously deposited the line in my memory bank. "Note to self: That one goes in her wedding day toast." My daughters are 4 and 6 years old. Now that they can make their own sandwiches and put on their own snow boots, I sometimes wonder if my primary duty as their mother might just be to collect anecdotes of their silly ways. I’ve already stored in my database how that same daughter at age 5 ordered us a new sofa from Target.com. And how my youngest daughter at age 3 once disappeared in the YMCA locker room after a family swim; I found her a few rows down hip-hop dancing with some high school students — wearing only her Princess underpants ... and my bra. As their mom, I’m privy to every silly-dilly thing they’ve done so far. It’s a powerful thing to know a person’s entire history. I hope to use the knowledge wisely — to someday give them back the belly laughs they’ve gifted to me. To remind them regularly of where they came from, no matter where they happen to be in the future. And yes, to embarrass them — but only when duty calls. One of my dad’s greatest talents was his ability to embrace the absurd. He had a wonderful sense of humor; he could make us laugh until we cried simply by pointing out the obvious or retelling a story we already knew by heart. Connected to this talent, I’m sure, was his innate ability to embarrass me when I was a teenager. Whether he was dancing to the pep band at basketball games "in front of the whole school!" or belting out "Roxanne" by The Police to my friends in the car, I was mortified. "D-a-a-a-d," I’d wail. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but smile at this man who could find something funny in the most serious of moments. His antics taught me important lessons: Be who you are. Laugh when you can. Don’t take it all so seriously. Now I’m the one doing the embarrassing. I’m already hearing "M-o-o-o-m!" and it’s music to my ears. This is fun. This is why we have children: The laughs, the silliness and the love — of course, the love. It makes us young again. My daughters say things every day that absolutely crack me up. I could be having the most rotten of weeks, and all I need to do is watch my girls for five minutes and I’m laughing again. I’ve been blessed with two live-in comediennes. What a marvelous gift. Someday, I’m sure, they’ll be horrified when I tell an old story or sing off-key in front of their friends. But someday after that, life might get a little too serious. They might need a reminder of the good old days — days when everything they said or did was hilarious. Days when the point wasn’t how much you made, or how fast you moved, or how much you got done, but how hard you laughed. The laughs, the silliness, the love — of course, the love. That’s what I want to give to them. Were you forever embarrassed by your parents? Do you plan to do the same to your kids? Friday January 9, 2009
Posted by: mlaehr at 1:07PM CST on January 9, 2009
I don’t know about the rest of you parents, but I’ve been driving like a grandma in all this snow — especially when my kids are in the minivan. Yes, I drive the epitome of a mom-mobile. It’s a bright white, Buick minivan complete with electric sliding doors and three car seats. And don’t ask me to speed up on a snow covered road when my babies are in those seats. I won’t. Maybe it’s the whole getting older thing, or the need to protect my kids thing, or just the I’ve-seen-too-much-on-these-roads-not-to-drive-this-carefully thing, but I take no chances. Part of my apprehension, perhaps, is due to the fact that up until last year I always had a big ole 4-wheel drive Jeep. I would bound out of the driveway, even if the snowplow had just visited, and barrel my way to work or to the store. Now I creep slowly - just like my mother might. My mom has long been defensive about the way my sisters and I laugh at her driving. She puts her blinker on at least a full block before she turns. She refuses to drive on the Interstate. She doesn’t like the radio up too loud, because she says it distracts her. She is the grandma I now drive exactly like. What it is about having kids that makes you fear so many of the things you once loved? I used to love driving in the snow. I’ll never forget coming into work one weekend about 10 years ago during a snow storm. I remember feeling almost insolated by the white fluffy roadways, as I bounded through them in my Jeep. I had a great time running around town talking to people out shoveling, kids sledding and plow drivers. In fact, I loved snow period. I was a downhill skier and a snowmobiler. I didn’t even think about the snow being an issue as I was preparing to drive my first-born up north to my parents’ cabin when he was an infant — until I got on the road to begin the six-hour drive by myself. I felt sick to my stomach. I was sweating. I couldn’t have the radio on too loud, or it would distract me. Perhaps that was the turning point, when I made the switch from unfazed to afraid. It’s happened with other stuff too. Waterskiing and tubing: I love to do it. It makes me sick to watch my kids try it. Roller coasters: I love them. I’ve never taken my boys on one. The closest they’ve gotten is an airplane carnival ride that brought them 4 feet off the ground. Crossing the street: I did it at age 4. My sons, ages 5 and 7, don’t cross without me. What is it about becoming parents that makes us so afraid - even when we used to be fearless? I don’t have any good answer except: love. We love our children more than we love ourselves, and want to protect them - even when we never thought we ourselves needed protection from the same experiences. So if you see me slowly cruising down the road during a big snowstorm, or get caught behind me as I drive 20 mph on a slick roadway, try not to get irritated with me. I’m not doing it to frustrate you. I’m doing it out of love. Monday January 5, 2009
Posted by: eyoung at 3:38PM CST on January 5, 2009
For a lot of parents, New Year’s resolutions can be summed up in eight words: Spend less. Save more. Clean house. Move more. While I’ve got a few more resolutions on my list for ’09, these are the basics. Like most of you, in the next 12 months I want to tighten up financially, get more organized and get more exercise. So with that in mind, I thought I'd share a few get-organized tips I've gathered from smart mom friends — PLUS a quick guide to kids’ specials at area restaurants, on the next page. (That would be the part of this post that can SAVE YOU MONEY.) Please add your own favorite tips in the comments section. Happy New Year! Storing Kids’ Artwork This time, I think I’ve finally found the answer. My latest method comes from a mom friend and it’s actually working. She picked up artist portfolio books like these at Hobby Lobby. The books have 24 sleeves for 48 page views. Buy one for each kid, for every school year, and then simply slide in all must-keep masterpieces. Various sizes are available. A 9-by-12-inch portfolio costs $11.99 (cheaper when you print a 40-percent-off coupon from the store’s Web site). You can personalize the spines of the books for easy reference ("Sophie, First Grade"). I keep one for each daughter by my cookbooks in the kitchen. It’s super-easy to grab the books and store their latest drawings and "I love you, Mom!" notes. (I’ve also got more "I am sorree for bean snottee" notes than I’d care to admit.) It’s cheap. It’s easy. It’s compact. It’s within reach of backpack-unloading. So far so good. Piles of Paperwork This year I created a wall calendar but still needed a way to get papers out of piles and top-of-mind. While sitting at the hair salon, I picked up Martha Stewart Living magazine and found this tip: Hang clipboards on the wall. Lots of clipboards. If you’re even sort-of crafty, you can cover the clipboards in decorative paper so they look more artful and less office-supply-hanging-on-your-wall-ish. I’ve now got clipboards in the back hall: one for each daughter, one for upcoming events, and one for "Take This When I Leave The House" stuff like checks for day care. Again, cheap, easy and functional. Here’s directions and a photo. ... (more) |
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