We are preparing for a hurricane in November. Not fair!
Right now my lovely hometown is right in the center of Ida's projected path cone. School has been canceled through Thursday (Bella's teacher was almost jubilant when she called to tell me). There's a run on ice and bottled water at the grocery stores, gas stations are mobbed, and insanity reigns. The good thing about hurricanes is that you do have the notice, but you have a lot of tough decisions to make, like whether or not to evacuate.
I'm not planning on leaving, although after Hurricane Ivan in 2004 I decided I would leave for a strong category 2 or higher. I was genuinely scared going through Ivan. We were in good spirits at first, but as the night progressed things got bad - there were leaks that turned into downpours, ceilings started collapsing, and the huge oak tree in the front year developed an ominous lean. I remember huddling in the hallway with my then two-year old little girl, praying, and being distracted by droplets of water on my face from yet another roof leak. We were running around pulling pictures off the wall, dragging furniture out of rooms whose ceilings had fallen, putting pots and pans under the contained leaks...it was really scary. And we were lucky compared to some, compared to many, really.
Evacuating is a mixed bag - you can get out of town, but traffic can be horrible and, unless you're headed north, there's always the chance that the storm will change direction and you'll be driving into the bad weather. A neighbor of mine told me a horror story about getting stuck on the interstate trying to evacuate during Hurricane Opal, and trying to dodge tornadoes, drive with zero visibility, etc.
There's also the choice about battening down the hatches. How far do you go? For this storm, I'm going to take in the items on the patio and move things away from windows and doors (in case of wind-driven rain). You have to decide whether or not to board up windows, among other things. I am employed by a small business that sells high-end grand pianos and church organs, among other things. Preparing for a hurricane there is no fun. Lots of heavy things to put up on blocks, lots of moving and shifting and hoping for the best.
This will be a tense night. Things can change overnight, maybe for the better. Or maybe not. I'm thinking that we will get rain and blustery wind and hopefully that will be the end of it. I have to decide where to stay tomorrow night. Depending on how things look, we might go stay at my in-law's house. I don't really trust the construction of our apartments - if noise passes so freely between the walls, I can't help but wonder about wind and rain. Plus, at my in-law's house, I can be there to help should more roof issues arise. I don't know what my grandparents are planning to do, and I'm worried about that.
And I just saw that the weather channel is sending Jim Cantore here, which anyone who lives in a hurricane zone knows means that YOU ARE GOING TO GET HIT. Jim Cantore is like a hurricane magnet - where he goes, storms follow. Dang it.
I was going to start pulling things off the patio earlier and I encountered a snake. A small-ish snake, but still a snake, so I hastily retreated inside the house and decided the clearing the porch is my husband's job.
You just never know. But, having the notice is vastly preferable to just being slammed, so I shouldn't complain. Sigh. A hurricane in November. Boo! The upside: if we lose power, it won't be as hot. There we go. I'll cling to that while I'm watching the tropical update on the weather channel all night. If you pray, I know whoever is in the path of this hurricane would appreciate a word or two, so keep us (or whomever!) in mind.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
I'm Silly
I have trouble sleeping. Well, that's not entirely true, I don't have problems sleeping, but I have problems getting to sleep. I can't just lie down and drift off, I have to do something to quiet my mind. Usually I read, but it has to be something I've read before. New books can't be bedtime books, because I end up devouring a new book in one sitting and then go to bed way too late.
So I read, and usually fall asleep with a book on my face. I was finding myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning, contorted in awkward positions on the bed or sofa, lights blazing, sometimes with the TV still on. So I decided I would try an audio book. I downloaded "The Hobbit" (because I love that book) and my sister was kind enough to share the seventh Harry Potter novel and a few David Sedaris books with me. So I tried it: I turned out the lights, laid down with my MP3 player, and...ten minutes later I was out like a light. This has been my nightly routine since this, and it has been wonderful.
Saturday night I settled into my routine: lights out, player at the ready. I decided to listen to Harry Potter, since I had listened to the Sedaris novels already. I fell into a blissful sleep, but was rudely awakened and utterly aurally overwhelmed by a huge and horrible onslaught of noise. The first thing I could hear was a long, piercing scream, occurring simultaneously with a spooky sounding male voice in my ear. Completely out of it and beginning to panic, I started flailing around on the sofa where I had fallen asleep, trying to get my bearings and completely unable to do so. My flailing caused an avalanche - the cordless phone, cell phone, TV remote and my hair clip that I had earlier placed on the back of the sofa all fell, of course directly onto my head.
Deluged by electronics and hair accessories, I fell to the floor, still baffled by what was going on. I was literally in a panic, and shrieked a little when I hit the ground. The screaming intensified, and the spooky voice in my ear was suddenly joined by swells of ominous music. After a moment on the floor, I realized that 1.) Bubba had awakened and was screaming his displeasure at finding himself in his bed, and 2.) Harry Potter was still playing in my ear and was at a particularly scary and dramatic point in the story. I yanked the earbuds out and went to rescue Bubba, my heart still pounding. There was a good two-minute period there in which I had absolutely no clue what was happening in my house. I'm silly.
And now for this little gem, which involves the loss of dignity that occurs in pregnancy (consider yourself forewarned):
When I was pregnant with Bella, I was taking Lamaze classes with my sister-in-law, because of my husband's work schedule. We had a routine: meet for the classes, and then out to dinner afterwards. We went to class one night, where the instructor was showing the class massage techniques for labor. We had been working on the floor, and she instructed us all to get up for standing positions.
My SIL and I rose from the mat we were seated on, and there was a noise that sounded distinctly like someone passing gas. I immediately thought it was her; she immediately thought it was me. This gave us both a terrible case of the giggles, which we were trying to keep to ourselves. The lights were low, there was relaxing music playing, and there were four other couples in the class trying to learn. Giggles quickly gave way to something close to hysteria, and tears were streaming down both of our faces as we tried to control ourselves. The instructor tactfully suggested that we take a moment outside, and we agreed, snorting with mirth as we left the room.
Once in the hallway, we faced each other and said, at the same time, "Did you fart?". This caused us to laugh even harder. In between our gales of laughter we ascertained that neither of us had farted. We laughed even harder, and then I had something happen to me that can be somewhat common in pregnancy, especially when laughing or coughing: "I just peed on myself a little!", I informed my sister-in-law. This did not help matters, and only caused us to laugh even harder. After a few minutes we settled down, and were getting ready to go back into the classroom when I asked where she wanted to go for dinner. "Dinner? But you just said you peed on yourself, you really want to go to dinner?". "Oh," I replied, waving my hand airily, "I pee on myself all the time, it's nothing." Our shaky composure lost once more with this comment, we gave up on ever getting back into relaxation mode, grabbed our purses and headed to TGI Friday's.
We still laugh when we tell that story. The noise ended up being caused by someones shoe on the mat we were sitting on, by the way. And the Lamaze techniques were completely forgotten half an hour into my labor. My husband offered to rub my back with tennis balls in a sock, and there was nothing soothing about that idea. Hitting someone with tennis balls in a sock, that idea appealed to me, but even in pain I realized it wasn't very appropriate.
So those are my silly stories. Instead of complaining about how busy I am, or the things that I am worried about, I thought I would make myself feel better by offering the world of blogging a little more mindless blather. And I do feel better!
UPDATE: After writing this, I called my sister-in-law to ask if she remembered this and she and I laughed ourselves to tears again. Nothing like a good (gross) story.
So I read, and usually fall asleep with a book on my face. I was finding myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning, contorted in awkward positions on the bed or sofa, lights blazing, sometimes with the TV still on. So I decided I would try an audio book. I downloaded "The Hobbit" (because I love that book) and my sister was kind enough to share the seventh Harry Potter novel and a few David Sedaris books with me. So I tried it: I turned out the lights, laid down with my MP3 player, and...ten minutes later I was out like a light. This has been my nightly routine since this, and it has been wonderful.
Saturday night I settled into my routine: lights out, player at the ready. I decided to listen to Harry Potter, since I had listened to the Sedaris novels already. I fell into a blissful sleep, but was rudely awakened and utterly aurally overwhelmed by a huge and horrible onslaught of noise. The first thing I could hear was a long, piercing scream, occurring simultaneously with a spooky sounding male voice in my ear. Completely out of it and beginning to panic, I started flailing around on the sofa where I had fallen asleep, trying to get my bearings and completely unable to do so. My flailing caused an avalanche - the cordless phone, cell phone, TV remote and my hair clip that I had earlier placed on the back of the sofa all fell, of course directly onto my head.
Deluged by electronics and hair accessories, I fell to the floor, still baffled by what was going on. I was literally in a panic, and shrieked a little when I hit the ground. The screaming intensified, and the spooky voice in my ear was suddenly joined by swells of ominous music. After a moment on the floor, I realized that 1.) Bubba had awakened and was screaming his displeasure at finding himself in his bed, and 2.) Harry Potter was still playing in my ear and was at a particularly scary and dramatic point in the story. I yanked the earbuds out and went to rescue Bubba, my heart still pounding. There was a good two-minute period there in which I had absolutely no clue what was happening in my house. I'm silly.
And now for this little gem, which involves the loss of dignity that occurs in pregnancy (consider yourself forewarned):
When I was pregnant with Bella, I was taking Lamaze classes with my sister-in-law, because of my husband's work schedule. We had a routine: meet for the classes, and then out to dinner afterwards. We went to class one night, where the instructor was showing the class massage techniques for labor. We had been working on the floor, and she instructed us all to get up for standing positions.
My SIL and I rose from the mat we were seated on, and there was a noise that sounded distinctly like someone passing gas. I immediately thought it was her; she immediately thought it was me. This gave us both a terrible case of the giggles, which we were trying to keep to ourselves. The lights were low, there was relaxing music playing, and there were four other couples in the class trying to learn. Giggles quickly gave way to something close to hysteria, and tears were streaming down both of our faces as we tried to control ourselves. The instructor tactfully suggested that we take a moment outside, and we agreed, snorting with mirth as we left the room.
Once in the hallway, we faced each other and said, at the same time, "Did you fart?". This caused us to laugh even harder. In between our gales of laughter we ascertained that neither of us had farted. We laughed even harder, and then I had something happen to me that can be somewhat common in pregnancy, especially when laughing or coughing: "I just peed on myself a little!", I informed my sister-in-law. This did not help matters, and only caused us to laugh even harder. After a few minutes we settled down, and were getting ready to go back into the classroom when I asked where she wanted to go for dinner. "Dinner? But you just said you peed on yourself, you really want to go to dinner?". "Oh," I replied, waving my hand airily, "I pee on myself all the time, it's nothing." Our shaky composure lost once more with this comment, we gave up on ever getting back into relaxation mode, grabbed our purses and headed to TGI Friday's.
We still laugh when we tell that story. The noise ended up being caused by someones shoe on the mat we were sitting on, by the way. And the Lamaze techniques were completely forgotten half an hour into my labor. My husband offered to rub my back with tennis balls in a sock, and there was nothing soothing about that idea. Hitting someone with tennis balls in a sock, that idea appealed to me, but even in pain I realized it wasn't very appropriate.
So those are my silly stories. Instead of complaining about how busy I am, or the things that I am worried about, I thought I would make myself feel better by offering the world of blogging a little more mindless blather. And I do feel better!
UPDATE: After writing this, I called my sister-in-law to ask if she remembered this and she and I laughed ourselves to tears again. Nothing like a good (gross) story.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I had a moment
We have recently transitioned Bubba to a twin bed, since he insisted on taking spectacular dives out of his crib, landing in awkward positions and screaming like he was mortally wounded. I considered the various schools of thought on this topic - you have the "get him out of the crib now before he hurts himself" side, then you have the "he probably won't hurt himself falling out" side. I found myself coming in on the not "hurting himself side". I'm not willing to risk a broken arm. Not to mention the fact that the boy has an iron will, and the one time I played the "just put him back in bed" game I lost. I relented after literally the fifteenth time he intentionally fell out of bed.
How is the transition going, you ask? Oh, very poorly, I answer! He has screamed himself hoarse over the last couple of days. But let me take you back in time, to the place my stress started building: Sunday morning, at Mass. We were in the crying room, and I was trying to keep Bubba in line. He did OK for a while, but the he started to melt down. I was holding Bubba, who was protesting mightily, and trying to reign in Bella, who was making faces through the glass at a school friend sitting a few pews away. I was standing close to the glass, my hand on Bella's shoulder to pull her away, when Bubba broke into loud, high-pitched shrieks and started hitting and kicking the glass. I immediately backed away from the window, but not before getting some rather...unamused glares from people sitting in the back pews.
I had also made the mistake of putting poor Bubba in a collared shirt for church. I know better - he can't stand collared shirts, but in my haste I didn't think about it. As I backed away my poor baby just lost it. He started flailing around uncontrollably, yanking at his shirt and screaming at the top of his lungs and hitting me. I sat down and started trying to soothe him and he headbutted me in the nose (it was an accident), so hard that I started bleeding. I had to put him down because I couldn't see for a moment. So he thrashed around on the crying room floor, banging his head so hard I could see the parents next to me wince. I gathered our things and we left. Bubba has a major meltdown every Sunday at church. Stress!
When we get home he refused to take a nap. He was in his room, throwing a fit, when I encountered a neighbor who informed me that, should she hear me letting my baby cry like that again, she was going to call the department of children and families and have me investigated. Stress. Now I feel trapped in my own home, like I can't do what I need to do because, should he cry too long, and who knows what this person's idea of too long could be, I'm going to have to deal with CFS. Not that I'm worried they would find anything undue, understand, but that's a headache I don't need in my life.
I'm having a little work stress, and a little money stress, and Bella's school is, in all honesty, driving me absolutely crazy. I am sick of policy changes and important memos and the constant complaints that parents aren't doing enough. It's just been one thing after another (like the day she got an out of uniform notice because her belt was tan and not brown), and it's piling up and adding to my worry. Bella is having trouble in a couple of subjects at school - worry. My car is acting up - worry.
So all that to say that it culminated tonight, when I was trying to get Bubba to sleep. I was putting him back in his bed for the fifth time, when I stood up my chest got tight, and my heart started racing, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to go sit down and take some deep breaths and eventually felt better, but it was a wake-up call I needed. I need to calm down. Or, as a friend of mine would say, I need to settle my butt down.
I can't control everything. And I feel so guilty about poor Bubba, and about Bella having issues at school...I am awash with guilt. So my answer is: I can't fix everything at once. Progress takes time. I'll just have to take it slow. I just wish I had more time. More time to spend with Bubba, to help him with his issues and enjoy the bubbly boy that he is. More time to spend with Bella, to help her with schoolwork and just appreciate her for the joy that she is. But, since I can't make more time, I'll just have to adjust. I'm trying too hard to do everything. To work and take care of my kids and my house and my husband, to make sure that there are groceries and hot meals and a clean house and time to enjoy each other. I'm failing. What's the answer here?
Well, for starters, we are going to try going to an earlier Mass. Hopefully that will help with the meltdowns. I am going to do some reading and try and come up with some creative ideas for bubba's new sleeping situation. It might take a few nights and be hard work, but we will figure something out. As for the work and the money stress? Part of life, and will all work out. Bella's school? I'll just chalk all the irritating changes up to a new-ish administation settling in (although this is the last year I'll give them that credit) and hope that things get better. And I won't send her to school in a tan belt. Bella's classroom issues? We'll just work on that together. Nothing is happening that can't be handled through compromise or hard work. Maybe instead of complaining of how put-upon I am, I should be grateful that my problems are so easily solved. They might be stressful in the here and now, but looking long term, they're really just little issues. Humility is what I need. Humility and grace. And some sleep. I'm going to go pray for the first two and attempt the third. Good night!
How is the transition going, you ask? Oh, very poorly, I answer! He has screamed himself hoarse over the last couple of days. But let me take you back in time, to the place my stress started building: Sunday morning, at Mass. We were in the crying room, and I was trying to keep Bubba in line. He did OK for a while, but the he started to melt down. I was holding Bubba, who was protesting mightily, and trying to reign in Bella, who was making faces through the glass at a school friend sitting a few pews away. I was standing close to the glass, my hand on Bella's shoulder to pull her away, when Bubba broke into loud, high-pitched shrieks and started hitting and kicking the glass. I immediately backed away from the window, but not before getting some rather...unamused glares from people sitting in the back pews.
I had also made the mistake of putting poor Bubba in a collared shirt for church. I know better - he can't stand collared shirts, but in my haste I didn't think about it. As I backed away my poor baby just lost it. He started flailing around uncontrollably, yanking at his shirt and screaming at the top of his lungs and hitting me. I sat down and started trying to soothe him and he headbutted me in the nose (it was an accident), so hard that I started bleeding. I had to put him down because I couldn't see for a moment. So he thrashed around on the crying room floor, banging his head so hard I could see the parents next to me wince. I gathered our things and we left. Bubba has a major meltdown every Sunday at church. Stress!
When we get home he refused to take a nap. He was in his room, throwing a fit, when I encountered a neighbor who informed me that, should she hear me letting my baby cry like that again, she was going to call the department of children and families and have me investigated. Stress. Now I feel trapped in my own home, like I can't do what I need to do because, should he cry too long, and who knows what this person's idea of too long could be, I'm going to have to deal with CFS. Not that I'm worried they would find anything undue, understand, but that's a headache I don't need in my life.
Now we are into nightly screaming fits. He doesn't want to be in the crib, he refuses to stay in bed, and bedtime has become a battle that I dread. Nothing gets done around the house, because by the time he finally gets settled he sleeps for a little while and wakes back up again. We are both getting fragmented sleep, and neither of us are the better for it. And I feel like I constantly have the spector of my neighbor reporting me to CFS hanging over my head, even though I know I haven't done anything wrong. Stress!
I'm having a little work stress, and a little money stress, and Bella's school is, in all honesty, driving me absolutely crazy. I am sick of policy changes and important memos and the constant complaints that parents aren't doing enough. It's just been one thing after another (like the day she got an out of uniform notice because her belt was tan and not brown), and it's piling up and adding to my worry. Bella is having trouble in a couple of subjects at school - worry. My car is acting up - worry.
So all that to say that it culminated tonight, when I was trying to get Bubba to sleep. I was putting him back in his bed for the fifth time, when I stood up my chest got tight, and my heart started racing, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to go sit down and take some deep breaths and eventually felt better, but it was a wake-up call I needed. I need to calm down. Or, as a friend of mine would say, I need to settle my butt down.
I can't control everything. And I feel so guilty about poor Bubba, and about Bella having issues at school...I am awash with guilt. So my answer is: I can't fix everything at once. Progress takes time. I'll just have to take it slow. I just wish I had more time. More time to spend with Bubba, to help him with his issues and enjoy the bubbly boy that he is. More time to spend with Bella, to help her with schoolwork and just appreciate her for the joy that she is. But, since I can't make more time, I'll just have to adjust. I'm trying too hard to do everything. To work and take care of my kids and my house and my husband, to make sure that there are groceries and hot meals and a clean house and time to enjoy each other. I'm failing. What's the answer here?
Well, for starters, we are going to try going to an earlier Mass. Hopefully that will help with the meltdowns. I am going to do some reading and try and come up with some creative ideas for bubba's new sleeping situation. It might take a few nights and be hard work, but we will figure something out. As for the work and the money stress? Part of life, and will all work out. Bella's school? I'll just chalk all the irritating changes up to a new-ish administation settling in (although this is the last year I'll give them that credit) and hope that things get better. And I won't send her to school in a tan belt. Bella's classroom issues? We'll just work on that together. Nothing is happening that can't be handled through compromise or hard work. Maybe instead of complaining of how put-upon I am, I should be grateful that my problems are so easily solved. They might be stressful in the here and now, but looking long term, they're really just little issues. Humility is what I need. Humility and grace. And some sleep. I'm going to go pray for the first two and attempt the third. Good night!
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Can't learn how to learn
Last year, Bella had fabulous religion grades. I could always count on her to have an 'E' (equivalent of an 'A') in religion. This year, she has been having some problems, and I was trying to get to the root of them the other day.
We were studying for her religion test last week, and I knew that it was all material that had been covered last year, so I was fairly confident. Things like the Holy Family, etc. While I was quizzing her from the study guide her teacher sent home, I noticed she was agitated, and the agitated turned into being flat-out freaked out. She didn't know any of the answers, and she was getting very, very upset. So we took a breather, and I asked her what was wrong. This was her answer:
"Last year, we learned the answers in order and the test was in the same order and as long as we knew the order that was how we passed the test! But this year the answers aren't in order and I don't know how to learn them!".
Say whaaaaaat?
I had encountered this last year - we were studying for her religion test and I asked a question out of order and she recognized it immediately. "That's not in the right order! I only know them in the right order!" Panic ensued. I calmed her down and just asked her the questions in the right order and everything was fine. I didn't think about it at the time, but I now know I wasn't doing her any favors.
So I told her last week that it was no big deal, we would work on them together. And we studied over the week, and I thought she had the material down (it was only about seven questions) and then when the test came home, she got a 'D'. I'm not too worried about it at the moment, because it's early yet and we have time to work on it, but this concerns me.
She also freaked out about her math homework. They are doing fast math facts, where they have to just look at a problem and know the answer immediately. The other night we were working on numbers 1-9 plus 0 and 0-9 plus 1. I started asking her questions out of order again, and she lost it again. "I can't do it that way! That's not how we learned it last year!" I tried explaining that she is in second grade now, and that things will be different this year, but it was to no avail.
When I say she gets upset, she gets really upset. She cries, her breathing speeds up, and she is terribly agitated. It seems to really stress her out. And I'm not pressuring her, yelling at her or anything like that. Just a casual, "What does the word 'divine' mean?" and she falls to pieces. She doesn't do that with spelling words. I am at a loss.
My question is: how do I help her actually learn the material, not just memorize the answers?
We were studying for her religion test last week, and I knew that it was all material that had been covered last year, so I was fairly confident. Things like the Holy Family, etc. While I was quizzing her from the study guide her teacher sent home, I noticed she was agitated, and the agitated turned into being flat-out freaked out. She didn't know any of the answers, and she was getting very, very upset. So we took a breather, and I asked her what was wrong. This was her answer:
"Last year, we learned the answers in order and the test was in the same order and as long as we knew the order that was how we passed the test! But this year the answers aren't in order and I don't know how to learn them!".
Say whaaaaaat?
I had encountered this last year - we were studying for her religion test and I asked a question out of order and she recognized it immediately. "That's not in the right order! I only know them in the right order!" Panic ensued. I calmed her down and just asked her the questions in the right order and everything was fine. I didn't think about it at the time, but I now know I wasn't doing her any favors.
So I told her last week that it was no big deal, we would work on them together. And we studied over the week, and I thought she had the material down (it was only about seven questions) and then when the test came home, she got a 'D'. I'm not too worried about it at the moment, because it's early yet and we have time to work on it, but this concerns me.
She also freaked out about her math homework. They are doing fast math facts, where they have to just look at a problem and know the answer immediately. The other night we were working on numbers 1-9 plus 0 and 0-9 plus 1. I started asking her questions out of order again, and she lost it again. "I can't do it that way! That's not how we learned it last year!" I tried explaining that she is in second grade now, and that things will be different this year, but it was to no avail.
When I say she gets upset, she gets really upset. She cries, her breathing speeds up, and she is terribly agitated. It seems to really stress her out. And I'm not pressuring her, yelling at her or anything like that. Just a casual, "What does the word 'divine' mean?" and she falls to pieces. She doesn't do that with spelling words. I am at a loss.
My question is: how do I help her actually learn the material, not just memorize the answers?
Friday, August 21, 2009
What to do
Look at that smile. That beautiful little face, those chubby little cheeks, those bright eyes. My darling boy. I love him with all my heart.But he vexes me. This is normal, you say, and yes, it is, but Bubba is a master vex-er. He has vexing down to an art form.
It's funny, when Bella was a toddler, I never purchased a parenting book. I didn't need one, really, because she was an easygoing baby. And I had the maternal-know-it-all that comes with a first baby (sometimes). The second time around, I should be even more sure of myself, but I am at a loss. I am currently reading four parenting books, all by different authors, all with different ideas. I've learned the secret to reading parenting books is to always have a backup. Because with almost every parenting book I've read (with the exception of 'Raising Your Spirited Child' - I recommend!), I have encountered SOMETHING that made me say, "Oh, no way would I ever do that, that is ridiculous" and then I put the book down in disgust and move on to something else. Then later, when Bubba has done something that has particularly bamboozled me, I decide to overlook whatever part disgusted me so and read further, hoping for an idea or just anything, anything that might help me to help my boy.
My concern is that I am not entirely certain whether he is exhibiting normal toddler behavior, just slightly amplified, or is there is something else afoot. He does exhibit plenty of normal toddler behavior, we have toddler behavior coming out of our ears over here, but some things he takes to an extreme. Examples? Well, let's see...he is a head banger (and I don't mean in a 80's hair band kind of way). And he's not just a headbanger in a mild way, he is a full-on, almost violent and somewhat distressing to myself and other people head banger. We actually had to leave the crying room Sunday because his headbanging was freaking out the other parents. One mother asked me if he was ok, and I just wanted to scream "I DON'T KNOW! AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!". Not out of anger, but out of frustration. Because I think he's doing it out of frustration and I can't help him.
And temper tantrums? Oh, my sweet boy has raised the temper tantrum to an art form. He does not deal with with transitions, my Bubba. I have been trying to get him outside in the mornings, for some fresh air and running around. According to my myriad of parenting books, you can ease transitions with warnings about how much longer you have to be involved in a particular activity, which is a great idea if an 18-month old had any concept of time. "Five more minutes and we have to go inside" or "We will have to go inside soon" means nothing to him - but I still say it, possibly just to make myself feel better. So two mornings in a row, once we went back inside the house, there was a temper tantrum of epic proportions. The first one lasted for an hour. An hour of screaming and throwing himself around the living room, flopping from place to place, hitting his head on the furniture. I feel so helpless. He can't be soothed when these big tantrums happen - he doesn't want to be held (although I still try, sometimes), he can't be distracted. The second morning he went for about twenty minutes, and then I just scooped him up and took him to my mother-in-law's house. Once we got to maw-maw's house he was better (because maw-maw makes everything better). We haven't tried going outside since. And if I leave the room to shower, he will lay outside the bedroom door and scream the entire time. THE ENTIRE TIME. And it's not like he's by himself - this is with my husband there in the same room and he is. This is why I try to shower at night, to avoid such scenes.
He doesn't like going to stores or restaurants, either. Restaurants are better than stores, possibly because there is food involved. But stores? Forget it. He does pretty well for about ten or fifteen minutes, and then he is done. And it is full on tantrum mode again, and he is inconsolable. He doesn't want to sit in the buggy, doesn't want to be held, doesn't want to walk. He just flings himself around, yelling and coughing and sputtering. When it first started happening I thought maybe it was because he wasn't getting out enough, so I tried taking him out more. FAIL. Then I thought maybe he would do better in the mornings. FAIL. So I thought maybe evenings would be better. MISERABLE FAIL. Afternoons? STILL FAIL. Regardless of the time of day or how well rested he is, he melts down every time (EVERY TIME!) we go to a store. Bookstore, toy store, Wal-Mart, it doesn't matter - he freaks out. But as soon as we are outside? He is fine. He stops crying immediately, he'll happily let you carry him or ride in the shopping cart, and the only remnants of his meltdown from mere minutes before is his tear stained face and snotty nose. I joined a 'parents of spirited children' e-group, and I posted something about this to the group, and the consensus seemed to be that this is a phase that he will outgrow. I sure hope so, but it's been literally months now and it only seems to be getting worse.
He has some other peculiar habits - he has a very sensitive gag reflex at the SIGHT of food, and will gag while he is eating, but he hasn't thrown up and doesn't seem to be bothered by it, he just gags and then continues eating. He chews on everything, almost like a puppy - he actually chewed his crib rail down to bare wood. His toy golf clubs - his favorite things in the world - are all chewed up on the club heads. He eats things that should taste bad - and I don't mean he just tastes things, I mean tastes and then keeps eating - thus far he ate three bites from a bar of ivory soap and about the same amount of my husband's deodorant. And I'm not a bad parent, letting him run around and sample the personal hygiene products or anything, I promise. He's just quick. And he's stealthy. He has some other odd little habits, too, that I can't remember now. I keep a list in my purse, actually, so the next time we visit his doctor I can mention it. Which is all I can do at this point. And I'm pretty sure I'll feel silly, but my maternal instinct tells me I need to bring it up, even if the doctor poo-poos it and says he's just being a toddler.
I'm not entirely certain why I shared all this, except maybe that I needed to get it out of my system. I've been talking to my sister and my Aunt about this, so they are probably sick of it, but maybe I needed to put it in writing. I feel so bad for him, really, because even though he is a happy baby when things are going his way, his lows are so terribly low and upsetting, to him and to the people around him, that I feel like maybe...I don't know what. Like he's not enjoying life like he could, I guess. And then I feel guilty, too, like maybe something I'm doing or something I'm not doing is the key to all this, and once I figure out what that is then things will be better for him. Kids get upset, I get that, it's a part of life and I get that, too. But he gets so upset, and it becomes such a huge scene and ordeal, and I just wish I could help him to cope. Part of that is selfish, yes, because when he gets worked up it's very stressful, especially if we are out somewhere, but that's not the heart of the matter - the heart of it is that I want him to be able to handle things better so he can enjoy more.
As it is, he can handle going to homes without issue. My in-laws, my sister, my aunt, my dad, he will happily spend time in their homes without having a major meltdown. He seems to reserve the really big blowups for home or while we are out somewhere. And he loves to be outside, but the only problem with being outside is that eventually, you have to go back inside, and you've already read about how that works out. He doesn't mind being in the car - he is a fairly decent car rider. I just can't figure it all out. But I want to help him. I just have to figure out how.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Tropical School Daze
Well, tomorrow is the big day: Bella goes back to school. My big second grader. She is excited, and while I am excited for her, the start of school always stresses me out. The getting up earlier than we have been for months, the traffic, the insanity of carpool line, I could go on but I won't, because it's nothing I have any control over so there's no point in fretting. I just need to get over it.
Are we ready? We are ready-ish. Bella still needs to put the finishing touches on her summer reading book reports, for one, but she's planning on doing that this evening. We still need to write her name on her bookbag, but that will take two minutes. Her supplies are already at school, so that's taken care of. Her first two days are half days, so I won't have to address lunches until the middle of the week. This year I have a new lunch policy - Bella will be making her own lunch, the night before school. Theoretically, this should make lunch problems moot - she will hopefully eat whatever she brings, since she made it, and it will lessen the post-school lunch criticisms. We shall see how that goes.
We have uniforms, although we don't have many uniforms, and the ones we do have need some attention - a hem there, a dried-in mustard stain there, a faded logo. The mustard stain is causing me much distress, because I have been working on it all summer and have yet to get it out. I've faded it, but you can still see it. I was actually praying about it last night, praying for assistance with a mustard stain, of all the silly things. I wished that I might have more time to get it out, although if I haven't managed it in three months I don't know what any more time could do for me. So I wake up this morning and find out...we are under a tropical storm warning! Does that fall under the "be-careful-what-you-wish-for" category? I had hoped for some more time, but not due to a tropical weather system slamming into us. I went to bed last night aware there was something churning in the Gulf, woke up to a tropical depression and came home from the grocery store to Tropical Storm Claudette.
I don't even know if school is going to be canceled - if we do get hit, it is supposed to be in the early AM hours Monday. I don't think I would like to attempt morning carpool during a tropical storm, but I will if I have to. We are on the western fringe of the projected path cone (ah, the projected path cone - how we love it or hate it, depending on where we are in relation to it), so we might just get some breezy rain. Either way, I think we are prepared. We have some bottled water and batteries (I always try to keep both around, anyway, so I had them on hand), and later I'm going to stash the things on the porch somewhere, and that's about all I can do. That and hope the power stays on, but hopefully my proximity to the naval hospital will ensure that any outages, should they occur at all, will be brief. So I'm going to go batten down the hatches, in a casual sort of way, and then it's back to business as usual. Which for me, today, will be prayerful last minute attempts at stain removal, the ironing in of hems (because I cheat because I can barely sew) and the safety pinning of waistlines.
Claudette, stay away!
**UPDATE!!** With some elbow grease and possibly some divine intervention (hey, I don't know but I'm not ruling it out, after all, I did pray for it) the mustard stain came out! My jubilation quickly turned to dismay, however, when Bella ripped a hole in the armpit of the shirt putting in on this morning. Literally months of hard work on stain removal reduced to moot. Gives me a little perspective, though, I suppose.
Are we ready? We are ready-ish. Bella still needs to put the finishing touches on her summer reading book reports, for one, but she's planning on doing that this evening. We still need to write her name on her bookbag, but that will take two minutes. Her supplies are already at school, so that's taken care of. Her first two days are half days, so I won't have to address lunches until the middle of the week. This year I have a new lunch policy - Bella will be making her own lunch, the night before school. Theoretically, this should make lunch problems moot - she will hopefully eat whatever she brings, since she made it, and it will lessen the post-school lunch criticisms. We shall see how that goes.
We have uniforms, although we don't have many uniforms, and the ones we do have need some attention - a hem there, a dried-in mustard stain there, a faded logo. The mustard stain is causing me much distress, because I have been working on it all summer and have yet to get it out. I've faded it, but you can still see it. I was actually praying about it last night, praying for assistance with a mustard stain, of all the silly things. I wished that I might have more time to get it out, although if I haven't managed it in three months I don't know what any more time could do for me. So I wake up this morning and find out...we are under a tropical storm warning! Does that fall under the "be-careful-what-you-wish-for" category? I had hoped for some more time, but not due to a tropical weather system slamming into us. I went to bed last night aware there was something churning in the Gulf, woke up to a tropical depression and came home from the grocery store to Tropical Storm Claudette.
I don't even know if school is going to be canceled - if we do get hit, it is supposed to be in the early AM hours Monday. I don't think I would like to attempt morning carpool during a tropical storm, but I will if I have to. We are on the western fringe of the projected path cone (ah, the projected path cone - how we love it or hate it, depending on where we are in relation to it), so we might just get some breezy rain. Either way, I think we are prepared. We have some bottled water and batteries (I always try to keep both around, anyway, so I had them on hand), and later I'm going to stash the things on the porch somewhere, and that's about all I can do. That and hope the power stays on, but hopefully my proximity to the naval hospital will ensure that any outages, should they occur at all, will be brief. So I'm going to go batten down the hatches, in a casual sort of way, and then it's back to business as usual. Which for me, today, will be prayerful last minute attempts at stain removal, the ironing in of hems (because I cheat because I can barely sew) and the safety pinning of waistlines.
Claudette, stay away!
**UPDATE!!** With some elbow grease and possibly some divine intervention (hey, I don't know but I'm not ruling it out, after all, I did pray for it) the mustard stain came out! My jubilation quickly turned to dismay, however, when Bella ripped a hole in the armpit of the shirt putting in on this morning. Literally months of hard work on stain removal reduced to moot. Gives me a little perspective, though, I suppose.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Bad Haiku Friday: Pimento cheese and Marines in their underpants
My Godfather makes
the best pimento cheese spread
Thank you, Mr. Mike
My marine neighbor
walks his dog in his boxers
A sight to behold
Go and visit Laura at Catholic Teacher Musings for more bad haikus.
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