You shouldn't report me to CPS--at least I don't think you should. There have been moments this week when I have wondered. Am I a neglectful parent? Or is my child just plain accident prone? Here is my week in review:
Monday, 3rd degree burns: We're having guests over for a BBQ. I'm in the kitchen making a salad. Matt goes out to light the grill. Elliot wanders out a few minutes later. I assume Matt is out there. He is not, he has gone back inside for something. One of our guests brings Elliot in to me a few minutes later, screaming with blisters on four fingers. The upside is of course that he probably won't ever use his fingers to check the status of the grill again.
Tuesday, near drowning: I take the boys to the pool. I'm playing catch with Elliot while he stands at the railing on the ramp in water to his waist. He throws the ball way past my head. I swim 6 feet away to grab the ball and turn to watch as he swings himself under the rail and sinks into the 4 foot deep water. I reach him just before the lifeguard does and drag him to the surface sputtering.
Thursday, head injury: We're taking a couple of neighbor kids home, everyone is attempting to pile into the minivan. An older boy opens the auto door slider on Elliot's side just as Elliot rounds the back of the van at high speed, crashing noggin first into the edge of the slider. Fortunately just barely splitting the skin over a nice raised goose-egg.
Saturday, double knee injury and near suffocation: I may have mentioned that bad knees run in the family. But it generally does not manifest itself until at least the teenage years. However, Elliot seems prone to twisting his knees constantly. Today we went to the Big Truck Event downtown to check out all the trucks the had on display for little boys to climb in and honk the horns--loudly and repeatedly. We were just about ready to go and I let the boys go in one of the blow-up jumping house things. All was fine until I heard crying and dragged Elliot out complaining of two twisted knees. As I was tending to him, someone pulled the plug out of the thing and the whole inflatable collapsed on the kids inside (Ethan included) as we frantically extracted them before they could suffocate.
I don't think they're too much worse for the wear. We wrapped both knees and he recovered enough to want to participate in the square dance tonight. Hopefully we've got all the accidents out of our system for a little while. Maybe I should wrap him in bubble wrap.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Seeing Double
Do you see the humor in the following items I happened into recently? Or do I just have a strange sense of funny?
A sign that reads:
"Cosmetic Surgery
The Vein Center"
An ad for an airline seat belt extender had this at the end of the ad:
"These extenders add an extra 24" of length. Rated to 3000 lbs and conforms to FAA TSO."
I'll post a comment explaining why I find these funny. Lemme know if you thought so too.
A sign that reads:
"Cosmetic Surgery
The Vein Center"
An ad for an airline seat belt extender had this at the end of the ad:
"These extenders add an extra 24" of length. Rated to 3000 lbs and conforms to FAA TSO."
I'll post a comment explaining why I find these funny. Lemme know if you thought so too.
Friday, June 5, 2009
My Happy Place
I've been occasionally attending an old-lady water aerobics class. At one point in the class we need to spread out and find a suitable depth to stay at for a bit. The instructor always says "Okay Ladies, find your Happy Place". I think I'm already there.
Do you ever feel guilty about being happy? I mean I hate to even mention it because there's a little superstitious bit of me that thinks that if I talk about how happy I am, maybe it'll all come crashing down around me.
Don't get me wrong, I have good days and bad days (case in point, I'm running on about 2 hours of interrupted sleep today due to a nasty cough), sometimes my children are very trying, sometimes I'm grumpy and things certainly don't always go my way, and sure, I could lose a hundred pounds or so, but all that stuff so doesn't seem to matter when I consider just how blessed I am.
This evening, I was sitting in our big plastic primary colored Ikea chairs (we need to invest in some outdoor furniture) with my boys, eating the pizza we'd made together and relishing in the gorgeous lake view, our lovely big grassy, tree lined, yard, discussing just how blessed we are. I feel compelled to remind my children that this life we lead is not typical. I want to somehow make them realize just how lucky they are so maybe they'll cherish their childhood more. Although really, it'll probably be well into their adulthood before it truly hits them. I don't mean to beat them over the head with it, but I suppose I do.
Do you boys realize that not everyone gets to live on a beautiful lake and roam around a camp all day?
Yeah.
Do you know that lots of kids don't have moms that can stay home with them, but have to go to work?
Yeah--we're lucky because you can do your job on the computer.
Do you realize . . .
Lately I've been having many gratitude days. You know, where you just sit around and count your blessings (The Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, a beautiful place to live, a righteous husband, the peace that comes from living within our means, my children, my children, my children, lilacs, tomato plants, Indian food, a good job, and on and on). It makes me want to sing praises from the rooftops. But I suppose that would be a bit gratuitous wouldn't it?
It also makes me wonder what challenges lie in wait, but then I remind myself to enjoy the present and deal with the future when it gets here. It also makes me feel a little bit guilty, that perhaps I should have more children with whom to share this. But not guilty enough to consider pregnancy and infancy in any real terms--as if that were still feasible. But it does make me take more notice of ads for foster parents. But then I selfishly wonder if my idyllic days might come to a crashing halt if I were to upset the balance in such a dramatic way. And then I feel a little bit guilty about that.
But those little bits of guilt and wariness are swallowed so wholly in gratitude as I watch my children laugh out loud as they run through the sprinkler on the eve of summer. Right now, I think I'll just enjoy it.
Do you ever feel guilty about being happy? I mean I hate to even mention it because there's a little superstitious bit of me that thinks that if I talk about how happy I am, maybe it'll all come crashing down around me.
Don't get me wrong, I have good days and bad days (case in point, I'm running on about 2 hours of interrupted sleep today due to a nasty cough), sometimes my children are very trying, sometimes I'm grumpy and things certainly don't always go my way, and sure, I could lose a hundred pounds or so, but all that stuff so doesn't seem to matter when I consider just how blessed I am.
This evening, I was sitting in our big plastic primary colored Ikea chairs (we need to invest in some outdoor furniture) with my boys, eating the pizza we'd made together and relishing in the gorgeous lake view, our lovely big grassy, tree lined, yard, discussing just how blessed we are. I feel compelled to remind my children that this life we lead is not typical. I want to somehow make them realize just how lucky they are so maybe they'll cherish their childhood more. Although really, it'll probably be well into their adulthood before it truly hits them. I don't mean to beat them over the head with it, but I suppose I do.
Do you boys realize that not everyone gets to live on a beautiful lake and roam around a camp all day?
Yeah.
Do you know that lots of kids don't have moms that can stay home with them, but have to go to work?
Yeah--we're lucky because you can do your job on the computer.
Do you realize . . .
Lately I've been having many gratitude days. You know, where you just sit around and count your blessings (The Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, a beautiful place to live, a righteous husband, the peace that comes from living within our means, my children, my children, my children, lilacs, tomato plants, Indian food, a good job, and on and on). It makes me want to sing praises from the rooftops. But I suppose that would be a bit gratuitous wouldn't it?
It also makes me wonder what challenges lie in wait, but then I remind myself to enjoy the present and deal with the future when it gets here. It also makes me feel a little bit guilty, that perhaps I should have more children with whom to share this. But not guilty enough to consider pregnancy and infancy in any real terms--as if that were still feasible. But it does make me take more notice of ads for foster parents. But then I selfishly wonder if my idyllic days might come to a crashing halt if I were to upset the balance in such a dramatic way. And then I feel a little bit guilty about that.
But those little bits of guilt and wariness are swallowed so wholly in gratitude as I watch my children laugh out loud as they run through the sprinkler on the eve of summer. Right now, I think I'll just enjoy it.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Be Nice
I have always struggled in getting through Alma in the Book of Mormon. Which is unfortunate considering that Alma constitutes a very large portion of the book. Why Alma you might ask? Well, there are obviously some very good bits throughout there, but when you get into the latter chapters there is just so much war and carnage that I begin to become dismayed and disinterested. Not so for my children however. The blood and carnage portions are their favorite parts. Perhaps Moroni included all this with the understanding that the Priesthood of the latter days may be more readily persuaded to study the scriptures in their youth with a heavy dusting of violence. Just a theory.
Last night I was reading the scriptures with my boys. Ethan likes the pictures in the Book of Mormon Stories, but I like reading the actual scripture to them. They like to flip through the pictures, select the most interesting (read most bodies, blood and carnage) ones for me to read. Then, while they looked at the pictures, I read aloud from the actual book. We discussed the Lamanite army destroying the city of Ammonihah and Elliot points at the picture.
Is dat da army?
Yes, the Lamanite army.
Do dey have missiles and bombs?
No, this was a long time ago before missiles and bombs.
Do dey have bullets?
No, they didn't have guns or bullets either.
Mom, you're wrong and I'm right. Dey have missles and bombs and bullets.
Okay.
So how does my three-year-old know so much about armies and missiles and bombs? Oh yeah, I did take them to the air zoo after all. I do have to admit that gratefully, either by nature or by constant maternal vigillance, my boys are very nice--relativley speaking.
We wento the park yesterday and it seems we were constantly surrounded by boys of all ages being rude, inconsiderate or downright mean. I even had to break up a physical fight between a group of kindergarteners--me being the only parent on the playground. I am happy to say that my children were not involved in the fight. Hopefully this is not just due to my presence. On our way home we had a conversation:
Is Nathan always that mean?
No, he's pretty nice at school.
Really, so he's just mean at the playground after school?
How do you feel when kids are mean?
Bad.
Does it make you want to play with them?
No, I just walk away and play with someone else.
Good. Do you think kids would want to play with you if you're mean?
No, I'm nice.
Glad to hear it. Is it just me, or does it seem that it's somehow become acceptable for boys to be mean? I hear it, I sometimes think it--boys will be boys. And that is true. Boys are rough, boys are sometimes rude and inconsiderate. But this does not mean that becaue it is natural, this behavior is acceptable. This is also not something they will learn on their own. Someone must stand up and correct inappropriate behavior, not just excuse or discount it. My Grandfather's advice to my husband and I on our wedding day was Be nice to each other. There is infinite wisdom in this counsel. I'm doing my darndest to teach my boys to be nice. And to their credit, they are. Most of the time. Even though they like to read about people not being nice.
Last night I was reading the scriptures with my boys. Ethan likes the pictures in the Book of Mormon Stories, but I like reading the actual scripture to them. They like to flip through the pictures, select the most interesting (read most bodies, blood and carnage) ones for me to read. Then, while they looked at the pictures, I read aloud from the actual book. We discussed the Lamanite army destroying the city of Ammonihah and Elliot points at the picture.
Is dat da army?
Yes, the Lamanite army.
Do dey have missiles and bombs?
No, this was a long time ago before missiles and bombs.
Do dey have bullets?
No, they didn't have guns or bullets either.
Mom, you're wrong and I'm right. Dey have missles and bombs and bullets.
Okay.
So how does my three-year-old know so much about armies and missiles and bombs? Oh yeah, I did take them to the air zoo after all. I do have to admit that gratefully, either by nature or by constant maternal vigillance, my boys are very nice--relativley speaking.
We wento the park yesterday and it seems we were constantly surrounded by boys of all ages being rude, inconsiderate or downright mean. I even had to break up a physical fight between a group of kindergarteners--me being the only parent on the playground. I am happy to say that my children were not involved in the fight. Hopefully this is not just due to my presence. On our way home we had a conversation:
Is Nathan always that mean?
No, he's pretty nice at school.
Really, so he's just mean at the playground after school?
How do you feel when kids are mean?
Bad.
Does it make you want to play with them?
No, I just walk away and play with someone else.
Good. Do you think kids would want to play with you if you're mean?
No, I'm nice.
Glad to hear it. Is it just me, or does it seem that it's somehow become acceptable for boys to be mean? I hear it, I sometimes think it--boys will be boys. And that is true. Boys are rough, boys are sometimes rude and inconsiderate. But this does not mean that becaue it is natural, this behavior is acceptable. This is also not something they will learn on their own. Someone must stand up and correct inappropriate behavior, not just excuse or discount it. My Grandfather's advice to my husband and I on our wedding day was Be nice to each other. There is infinite wisdom in this counsel. I'm doing my darndest to teach my boys to be nice. And to their credit, they are. Most of the time. Even though they like to read about people not being nice.
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