Playing with my boys

Playing with my boys
They keep life interesting :-)

Monday, December 23, 2013

Liam is ALL Walsh!

And if you've known my family for an extended period of time, you know EXACTLY what that means!  For those of you that missed out on seeing the Walsh boys (my 4 brothers) grow up, that basically means Liam is trouble.  He is mischievous in ways Aidan never was.  He finds danger in simple things.  His curiosity knows no limits, and his determination no bounds.  He is probably going to be a pretty amazing adult with this kind of personality, capable of changing the world - I just don't know if I'll live to see it.  He causes me panic/anxiety attacks on a daily basis.  He's lucky he's so damn cute!

Yesterday he woke up from his nap and his face was covered in yellow...yellow what??  Anthony and my sister thought maybe he vomited, I knew that wasn't the case.  He'd eaten something...but WHAT?!?  There's no food in their room.  Anthony found a little chunk of something yellow in Liam's bed so we were all trying to figure out what it was - and I was trying to decide whether I needed to go get his stomach pumped or not!  I went into his room to investigate for myself.  On his dresser were the wrappers of an entire box of band aids he'd opened just for kicks (he climbed on the glider onto his dresser and crawled down to the other end where the "good stuff" was), but he didn't EAT them.  Small blessings.  Next to the mess of wrappers was the box of baby wipes, with a spot of yellow drooled on it.  Above there, up on the wall, is this:
Those are fondant animals that were on Aidan's first birthday cake (three years ago) minus the piggy bank.  There WAS a giraffe up there once upon a time too...until yesterday.  Mystery solved.  My son, Spakoski by name, Walsh by nature, ATE a dusty 3 year old fondant giraffe off a shelf on the wall when I thought he was sleeping!!!  And, for good measure, he licked the monkey and the elephant too - they were nice and sticky.  And look at the smears of yellow finger prints under the shelf...?!?  He's a special breed, this one.

God help me!

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Lying is Bad, but Magic is AWESOME!

Here's the thing...we all know its bad to lie.  But as a parent, you do your share whether you like it or not.  You can make yourself feel better by saying you're not *lying* so much as bending the truth, or leaving out important bits of information.  Whatever helps you sleep at night.
"Mom, what's for dinner?"
"Pasta with sauce...yummy yummy!"  I left out the fact that I pureed a whole bunch of carrots into the pasta sauce...he'll never know.  And what he doesn't know won't hurt him.  In fact, it will make him stronger, healthier, happier.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the lies we tell our kids now that Christmas is upon us.  The lying seems to have been amped up a bit.  Every time the UPS guy brings a package to the door and Aidan asks "What is it?  Can we open it?" I say "Oh, no...I think it must be something for Daddy's school."  Then bring said box to the basement where the kids don't go and won't ever know for sure what was in that box.  The items will magically appear under the Christmas tree on December 25th and my children's eyes will be filled with wonder and awe.  So, the lie is a means to an end.  A magical end filled with smiles and giggles where happiness abounds.  I like that end.

Every night, Waka Buckle, the Elf on the Shelf, finds himself a new place to sit and every morning Aidan bursts out of his bedroom "Is my elf here?!?  Where is he?!?"  Once he finds him, and has a giggle about where Waka Buckle is camped out, he asks me how he got there.  "I don't know, buddy!"  I do know...I put him there.  Lies.  Do I feel bad?  A little bit.  But, its all in the name of Christmas magic.

Santa is real in this house.  I have a number of friends who have told their small children that Santa is a myth because they don't want to lie to their kids.  That is their choice, and I respect them as parents and love their kids.  But, that's just not how I roll.  Some of my best memories from childhood revolve around Christmas, Santa, the flying reindeer, and all the rest of the magic that surrounds the holiday.  I remember driving home from my grandparents' house on Christmas Eve and we kids would have our eyes peeled looking to the sky the whole drive home. "OH MY GOSH!!!  I saw a red light in the sky!  It MUST be Rudolph...HURRY DAD!!!  Drive faster!!!  We need to get to bed so Santa doesn't skip our house!"

The anticipation of Christmas morning would then likely keep us up well past our bedtime, our little minds unable to stop thinking about what was to come.  That excitement was awesome.

Childhood should be about magic.  It should be about believing in things that defy logic because you haven't been hardened by the real world yet - there's no coming back once you have.

“There are two ways to believe in Santa Claus,” according to Rick Epstein, author of the book Rookie Dad Adventures in Fatherhood. “One way is to believe in him, the other is to help little children believe in him.”

I'm going to work my tail off to help my children believe for as long as possible.

*P.S. If you tell your kids there is no such thing as Santa, and they then tell MY kids there is no such thing as Santa, we might not be friends anymore.  Just sayin'.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

I Live Here for a Reason

I live in New England.  I was born here, and I have no intentions of ever living anywhere else.  I love New England.  I love 4 distinct seasons.  That's not to say I love when 3 feet of snow knocks out our electricity and we're forced to shack up with my mom because the electric company is predicting another 6 days before they can get our power up and running again.  That, I'm not such a big fan of.  But, I still love living here.  If I didn't, I would move elsewhere.

You see, I'm not all about natural disasters.  Regular hurricanes, tornadoes, wild fires...pass, thanks.  A blizzard doesn't scare me.  Snow melts, power is restored, and the kids get a few days off from school.  I'm OK with all of that.

Right now, we're having our first "real" snowfall of the season.  Its so beautiful!  I'm sitting in my house, surrounded by Christmas decorations, sparkling white lights on my Christmas tree and my banister, cozy and warm in fleece leggings and a hooded sweatshirt, watching the snow fall while my two adorable (read LOUD) children are sleeping.  My house is quiet, and I am enjoying this blissful moment.

I know not everyone has an appreciation for winter, or snow...but I do.  I consider myself lucky to have been born here, and to have grown up appreciating the four seasons and all they have to offer.  And having children of my own now makes me even more grateful.  My kids wake up to snow and its THE BEST DAY EVER!!!  And I remember thinking the same thing when I was a kid :-)

I have lots of friends that live in warmer climates - Arizona, California, Texas, Florida - and this time of year, some of them like to post pictures of their beach days, or a picture of their 10 day forecast, to make those of us in the cold jealous.  The thing is, it doesn't work for me.  I just finished beach season, I'm over it.  I really don't like to sweat.  And sweats are so much more comfortable than bathing suits.  The beginning of each season is so wonderful, full of hope and expectations.  By the end of each season, I'm ready for the next one.  Fall is my favorite season, ever.  I love everything about it.  But, this past week or so, when Mother Nature has been bipolar and we've had frigid weather alternating with mild no-coat-necessary weather, I've been READY for the cold to come and stay for a while.  Its part of the cycle, and I wouldn't change that for anything.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Family Bed

I've always been adamantly opposed to the whole concept of a "family bed" in my house.  Many of my friends co-sleep, it works for them and that's all that matters. I just wanted no part of it.  I like my space, and I like the seperation for 8-12 hours of peaceful slumber :-) 

My kids now refuse to sleep in my bed.  Even when he is sick and vomiting every 15 minutes, Aidan insists on sleeping in his own bed.  Its just what he's used to...its his bed.  I would love to eliminate some sheet changes in those rare incidents, but otherwise, I am really glad my kids have developed such strong sleeping habits.  And that my bed is my own. 

I've been sick lately.  A lot.  Hubs still has to go to the office, and I somehow have to manage being Super Mom.   Well, given the "norm" as of late, the definition of Super Mom has expanded to include hours of PBS cartoons from the comfort of Mommy's bed while I hide under the covers and plead with God to give me the strength to get up and carry on despite how ill I've felt.  The kids lay around my cocoon of blankets and laugh and squeal as they watch George get into trouble, take a stroll down Sesame Street, learn new words from a talking dog, and ask lots of questions just like Sid.  Its a beautiful thing that they give me this time to try and "feel better" before getting them breakfast.  And when I'm able to enjoy the snuggles and giggles, our morning cartoons under my covers will be my favorite part of the day.

So, it seems in the end, we have a family bed afterall ;-)

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Imagining the Unimaginable

Nothing makes my heart beat faster than when I imagine being separated from my children...permanently.  Death scares the crap out of me.  Obviously there's the whole "What will it be like to die?  What will I feel?" and other such things that can't possibly be answered that cause me a great deal of anxiety...but those things pale in comparison to the anxiety I get when I think about not being here for my children.  Who's going to take care of them?  No one could POSSIBLY care for them the same as I would.  No one could EVER love them as I do.  Will they be OK?  Will they know how much I love them?  Will they....gasp...remember me?!?  

Tonight as we were putting the kids to bed, I was holding Aidan and squeezing him saying "I can't believe how big you're getting!  You're going to be all grown up soon!"  

Then this happened:

Aidan looks up at me and says "Then I won't need you anymore...?"

"Well, I hope you'll always need me."

"When I am grown up, where will you be?"

"I'll be right here, for as long as I possibly can be!"

"Then God will take you away?" (as his voice gets quiet and his eyes get sad...)

<<gulp>>  "Not for a long, long time baby...I'm hoping to be here for a long, long time."

Then he walked over to his daddy and said "I hope God doesn't take you away for a long time."
................................................................................................................................................

My eyes welled up, I had a pit in my stomach, my voice felt like it would crack if I tried to speak, and my heart was racing.  I just can't handle imagining the unimaginable.  And I can't handle my sweet little boy doing it either.  Ugh...nothing prepares you for a conversation like that with your 3 year old son.  

This parenting thing is not for a weak.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

“What should a 4 year old know?”

I saw this on Facebook.  It was written by a Pre-School Teacher.  Its perfect.
 

I was on a parenting bulletin board recently and read a post by a mother who was worried that her 4 1/2 year old did not know enough. “What should a 4 year old know?” she asked.

Most of the answers left me not only saddened but pretty soundly annoyed. One mom posted a laundry list of all of the things her son knew. Counting to 100, planets, how to write his first and last name, and on and on. Others chimed in with how much more their children already knew, some who were only three. A few posted URL’s to lists of what each age should know. The fewest yet said that each child develops at his own pace and not to worry.
It bothered me greatly to see these mothers responding to a worried mom by adding to her concern, with lists of all the things their children could do that hers couldn’t. We are such a competitive culture that even our pre-schoolers have become trophies and bragging rights. Childhood shouldn’t be a race.

So here, I offer my list of what a 4 year old should know.

She should know that she is loved wholly and unconditionally, all of the time.
He should know that he is safe and he should know how to keep himself safe in public, with others, and in varied situations. 

He should know that he can trust his instincts about people and that he never has to do something that doesn’t feel right, no matter who is asking. He should know his personal rights and that his family will back them up.

She should know how to laugh, act silly, be goofy and use her imagination. 

She should know that it is always okay to paint the sky orange and give cats 6 legs.

He should know his own interests and be encouraged to follow them. If he could care less about learning his numbers, his parents should realize he’ll learn them accidentally soon enough and let him immerse himself instead in rocket ships, drawing, dinosaurs or playing in the mud.

She should know that the world is magical and that so is she. She should know that she’s wonderful, brilliant, creative, compassionate and marvellous. She should know that it’s just as worthy to spend the day outside making daisy chains, mud pies and fairy houses as it is to practice phonics. Scratch that– way more worthy.

But more important, here’s what parents need to know.

That every child learns to walk, talk, read and do algebra at his own pace and that it will have no bearing on how well he walks, talks, reads or does algebra.

That the single biggest predictor of high academic achievement and high ACT scores is reading to children. Not flash cards, not workbooks, not fancy preschools, not blinking toys or computers, but mom or dad taking the time every day or night (or both!) to sit and read them wonderful books.

That being the smartest or most accomplished kid in class has never had any bearing on being the happiest. We are so caught up in trying to give our children “advantages” that we’re giving them lives as multi-tasked and stressful as ours. One of the biggest advantages we can give our children is a simple, carefree childhood.

That our children deserve to be surrounded by books, nature, art supplies and the freedom to explore them. Most of us could get rid of 90% of our children’s toys and they wouldn’t be missed, but some things are important– building toys like lego and blocks, creative toys like all types of art materials (good stuff), musical instruments (real ones and multicultural ones), dress up clothes and books, books, books. (Incidentally, much of this can be picked up quite cheaply at thrift shops.) They need to have the freedom to explore with these things too– to play with scoops of dried beans in the high chair (supervised, of course), to knead bread and make messes, to use paint and play dough and glitter at the kitchen table while we make supper even though it gets everywhere, to have a spot in the yard where it’s absolutely fine to dig up all the grass and make a mud pit.

That our children need more of us. We have become so good at saying that we need to take care of ourselves that some of us have used it as an excuse to have the rest of the world take care of our kids. Yes, we all need undisturbed baths, time with friends, sanity breaks and an occasional life outside of parenthood. But we live in a time when parenting magazines recommend trying to commit to 10 minutes a day with each child and scheduling one Saturday a month as family day. That’s not okay! Our children don’t need Nintendos, computers, after school activities, ballet lessons, play groups and soccer practice nearly as much as they need US. They need fathers who sit and listen to their days, mothers who join in and make crafts with them, parents who take the time to read them stories and act like idiots with them. They need us to take walks with them and not mind the .1 MPH pace of a toddler on a spring night. They deserve to help us make supper even though it takes twice as long and makes it twice as much work. They deserve to know that they’re a priority for us and that we truly love to be with them.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

That happened fast...

It occurred to me today that I no longer have a baby gate at the bottom of our staircase.

The baby bottles have been in the basement almost a year now.

Liam doesn't eat meals in his highchair.  In fact, the only reason it still sits in our kitchen is to use for his time-outs!

I don't carry a diaper bag when we go out.  I toss a couple diapers and a bag of wipes in my bag, its big enough.  I don't need a changing pad, changes of clothes (usually), bibs, burpies, bottles, toys, etc.

I don't carry a spare binky around with me anymore.  Liam only uses it in his crib.

My children can go play in the backyard, hardly supervised, while I'm making dinner.

The infant car seat, bases, and snap and go have been in the basement collecting dust for some time now.

The baby bath tub has been in the basement since Liam was old enough to sit in the tub with Aidan and drowning was no longer a constant fear.

The stroller is an optional accessory most outings.

I don't puree foods anymore.  The kids eat grapes WHOLE.  Cereal is served with milk, at least for Aidan.

Apple picking the other day, Liam could eat an apple whole - skin on and all.


Babies are a lot of work.  Everything you do is that much harder, and takes that much longer.  Its undeniable.

But another thing that's undeniable?  They grow up REALLY FAST!  I don't have babies anymore...I have toddlers.  And while life certainly isn't easy with two little boys to chase, its remarkable how much less complicated everything is once they've grown beyond that baby phase.

Toddlers bring their own sort of trouble ;-)