Helen absolutely loves to be on her changing table. In this video, she shows her new stuff.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Musical night
James and Margaret had their "piano party" tonight. This is a very brief recital from all of their teacher's piano students. Though neither performed flawlessly, I was proud of the progress they have made over the past few months, not only on these particular songs, but also as pianists in general. (These are also the songs they chose to play during church 2 weeks ago to honor Helen's baptism.)
Growing Pains
May contains Mother's Day, so it seems like the right time to reflect on Things I Learned From My Mom About Parenting. One piece of advice that she gave me has really stuck: "Your goal as a parent is not simply to have obedient or easy children. You are trying to raise competent, well-adjusted adults." Mom would often say this to encourage me when the latest developmental stage was driving me nuts.
"Yes, it is frustrating that she wanders off to talk to strangers when she is two. But as an adult, it will be good if she is confident and friendly rather than shy and self-absorbed."
"Yes, it is overwhelming when he cries for hours on end. Just keep letting him know you love him. As an adult, he will always know he has a safe place to come to work things out. "
The long view is what is so hard to see when you are the parent, in the moment. As I become an increasingly older mother, I catch glimpses of the more enduring perspective of a grandparent, and I deeply value this. I see it when the grandfathers pick up a screaming infant and he or she is instantly quiet. The screaming doesn't make grandpa tense, as he knows that this, too, shall pass. Grandpa's calmness seems to seep into the baby. I also gained this perspective from my mom's humor. When I would call her up on a particularly frustrating day, her response (after listening well and honoring my need to vent) would usually be to remind me, "Whatever problem you are dealing with now, just take a deep breath and try to laugh it away. In a month, she will have grown past this stage regardless of what you do. Besides, in a month, she will have grown into a new issue that will be so much worse, you won't even remember what you used to be worried about!"
In trying to honor Mom's advice and the long view, I do try, from time to time, to consciously let my kids grow up. I find it usually does take a deliberate decision on my part, though. Acknowledging the emerging independence of my babies is not something that comes automatically, or even easily.
It is funny how perspectives change. I remember when James was maybe two or three, and our friends with all the kids came to visit. At that time, they probably only had five kids, ranging from 6 years older to 1 year younger than James. My friend started to send all the kids into the backyard to play, and I went to find my coat and shoes to supervise. She looked surprised that I would be going out. Well, someone needs to watch them, don't you think? She looked at me, bewildered.
"Your backyard is fenced in," she pointed out, as if that settled it. Well, yes, but I couldn't see the whole yard from the window. I hadn't generally let James outside on his own at that point. I knew he was able to climb over the fence to escape if he wanted to do so. My friend, on the other hand, had grown into having a 9-year-old, whose personality she knew well. She knew he wouldn't leave the yard, and he would keep the younger kids in check, as well, as they all wanted to be nearer to him. All the kids needed the fence for was to remind them of a boundary, which they wouldn't wish to or try to cross with the older kids around. She could no longer even remember needing to supervise a fenced-in yard herself. But, you don't gain that kind of knowledge or confidence overnight, and you don't always get it unless you look for it.
I have reflected on this a lot lately as the kids have been so anxious to stretch their wings. Maggie and James started swim team last week, with practices after school at the Calvin pool, just a few blocks from our house. After a few weeks of the season last year, we let James (then just newly 9 years) take himself to the pool on his bike. This year, I was happy to do the same. However, Maggie starts 30 minutes later, and I wasn't as sure about her at not yet 7 years old. She begged to be allowed to ride her bike, so I agreed that I would follow her, walking with Helen and John.
As we set out, tragedy struck. John wiped out, and the skinned knee revealed (GASP) blood! Due to his fatigued state, he had a meltdown and refused to ride or walk. So, I buckled Helen in the carseat, put John in his booster, and set off down the street to check on Maggie. By the time I caught up to her, she was waiting at the corner, trying to decipher the traffic patterns to continue. She had completed the sidewalked part of the route, and was left with a short distance to cover on the side of a quiet, neighborhood, street (with no sidewalk). I rolled down the windown and verbally helped her cross the street, then idled along behind her, just close enough to block any traffic from coming up on her. I did get some funny looks as people watched the big van slowly following the young child on a bike, but I got her to the pool safely.
Then, on Saturday, the kids were anxious to go to the park/playground. It is just two blocks away, with only one very quiet street to cross. Jeremy was getting ready to go to work (attending commencement) and Helen had just fallen asleep. Since she so rarely gets to have an uninterrupted nap, I hated to disturb her. So, I took a deep breath and decided to consciously let them grow up a little bit. I said they could go to the park on their own as long as all three of them stayed together the whole time. They were so excited they were quivering.
I pointed out that they would need to eat lunch first, and they asked if they could pack a picnic to take with them. They gleefully packed up their own lunch. James delighted in being the official peanut butter sandwich maker, as this is a task he takes great pride in doing. Likewise, Maggie cut apple slices - her specialty. They threw in a bag of potato chips (though here I intervened and suggested putting just some in a rigid container, figuring it would salvage a few chips for the trip, and limit the quantities consumed). They asked me for a picnic blanket, and off they went on bikes and scooters, for the adventure.
Jeremy finished getting ready and had about 20 minutes to spare. I decided to leave him with the sleeping Helen and go check on the kids. When I arrived, they had eaten their lunches (although John's was woefully long on chips and short on apples and sandwich), packed everything up neatly, and were pushing each other on the merry-go-round. I played a few minutes then asked if they wanted to walk back home with me so that Jeremy could go to work.
"No! Can't we stay?" Well, why not? They were doing so well. Just as I was leaving, on a whim, I pulled out my cell phone and handed it to James. "Why don't you keep this?" I showed him how to call me at home. I asked him to either be home in 30 minutes, or call to tell me they were staying longer. At least that way, I would have a set time when I could begin to worry.
I walked home, Helen woke up to nurse, Jeremy left, and I, feeling smug and pleased with my newly-grown-up and self-reliant kids, settled down with a mug of tea in a quiet house. And then the phone rang, not 10 minutes after I had left the park. The first thing I heard was the screaming. "Mom? Maggie fell off the monkey bars. I think she broke her jaw! She can't move it and there is blood everywhere."
I quickly established with James the essentials. Maggie was conscious, and could walk. I therefore determined she would make it without a 911 call. I instructed James to simply keep Maggie quiet until I could get there. My mind went into the cool, detached, emergency mode. "Hmm, might not be able to stop back here if we have to go the emergency room. The diaper bag is empty. Gather up diapers. Grab the carrier. No, wait, need the car. Buckle Helen in carseat. Where is my wallet? Wait, Maggie will probably need to be cleaned up. Roll of paper towels. Wet washcloth." I actually got out the door with amazing speed, considering.
I heard them before I saw them. Maggie was still screaming rather hysterically. She was quite a sight - blood and mucus dripping off her nose, her shirt dirty and wet, her har matted to her face. Fortunately, I could see right away that she was more scared than injured. That was a relief as I struggled with lugging Helen and her carseat across the mud and grass between the road and the bench where the 3 older kids sat. I set about helping Maggie to wipe off and calm down.
An elderly couple approached to see if help was needed - it turns out that James had seen them in the parking lot while waiting for me and asked if they could get him into the adjacent school to help clean Maggie up. They couldn't, but were checking in now to be sure that things were under control. (And perhaps to report my license plate to the police for leaving these kids untended?) Okay, so that wasn't quite what I had told James to do, but reasonably responsible, under the circumstances.
I sat with Maggie for a few moments while she collected herself, and the story came out in bits and pieces. Trust a 3-year-old to break the ice. "James didn't push her. It just wiggled a lot." It seems she fell because the kids were playing tag, and somehow both of them continued the game onto the monkey bars. Maggie climbed to sit on the top (8-10 feet up) to hide from James, who snuck up behind her and jumped to tag her, surprising her into falling off. I bit off the urge to scold. Obviously they had both already figured out that this was not a very wise idea.
James really had been trying to help. He had gotten Maggie to the bench. He had tried to clean her up, as all the blood was upsetting her. (The water bottle he had poured all over her face explained some of the condition of her t-shirt, not to mention her streaked-looking face.)
I helped Maggie limp to the car, which was made more awkward by the weight of Helen's carseat. We drove around the school to load up Maggie's bike, then James offered to escort John home on their bikes. Everyone got bathed, and changed, and settled in for a quiet snack. At first, I berated myself. Obviously, I blew that one. The first time I decided that they were old enough to go the park on their own, and look what happens. If I had been with them, I would have stopped a game of tag played on the monkey bars.
Then again, if I had stopped them, they never would have believed me that it was dangerous. They would have just tried it some other time, when they were alone and out of my control. And who is to say I would have noticed what they were doing in time to stop it? Mom was right - I need to make them safe for the world, because I can't keep their world safe forever. And after all, they did pretty well. They stuck together. They took care of each other. John didn't run away during all the commotion. They all got home safely. Maybe not such a terrible decision on my part, after all.
Yes, sometimes, letting go has to be a deliberate decision to let them grow up a little. And I think they did.
"Yes, it is frustrating that she wanders off to talk to strangers when she is two. But as an adult, it will be good if she is confident and friendly rather than shy and self-absorbed."
"Yes, it is overwhelming when he cries for hours on end. Just keep letting him know you love him. As an adult, he will always know he has a safe place to come to work things out. "
The long view is what is so hard to see when you are the parent, in the moment. As I become an increasingly older mother, I catch glimpses of the more enduring perspective of a grandparent, and I deeply value this. I see it when the grandfathers pick up a screaming infant and he or she is instantly quiet. The screaming doesn't make grandpa tense, as he knows that this, too, shall pass. Grandpa's calmness seems to seep into the baby. I also gained this perspective from my mom's humor. When I would call her up on a particularly frustrating day, her response (after listening well and honoring my need to vent) would usually be to remind me, "Whatever problem you are dealing with now, just take a deep breath and try to laugh it away. In a month, she will have grown past this stage regardless of what you do. Besides, in a month, she will have grown into a new issue that will be so much worse, you won't even remember what you used to be worried about!"
In trying to honor Mom's advice and the long view, I do try, from time to time, to consciously let my kids grow up. I find it usually does take a deliberate decision on my part, though. Acknowledging the emerging independence of my babies is not something that comes automatically, or even easily.
It is funny how perspectives change. I remember when James was maybe two or three, and our friends with all the kids came to visit. At that time, they probably only had five kids, ranging from 6 years older to 1 year younger than James. My friend started to send all the kids into the backyard to play, and I went to find my coat and shoes to supervise. She looked surprised that I would be going out. Well, someone needs to watch them, don't you think? She looked at me, bewildered.
"Your backyard is fenced in," she pointed out, as if that settled it. Well, yes, but I couldn't see the whole yard from the window. I hadn't generally let James outside on his own at that point. I knew he was able to climb over the fence to escape if he wanted to do so. My friend, on the other hand, had grown into having a 9-year-old, whose personality she knew well. She knew he wouldn't leave the yard, and he would keep the younger kids in check, as well, as they all wanted to be nearer to him. All the kids needed the fence for was to remind them of a boundary, which they wouldn't wish to or try to cross with the older kids around. She could no longer even remember needing to supervise a fenced-in yard herself. But, you don't gain that kind of knowledge or confidence overnight, and you don't always get it unless you look for it.
I have reflected on this a lot lately as the kids have been so anxious to stretch their wings. Maggie and James started swim team last week, with practices after school at the Calvin pool, just a few blocks from our house. After a few weeks of the season last year, we let James (then just newly 9 years) take himself to the pool on his bike. This year, I was happy to do the same. However, Maggie starts 30 minutes later, and I wasn't as sure about her at not yet 7 years old. She begged to be allowed to ride her bike, so I agreed that I would follow her, walking with Helen and John.
As we set out, tragedy struck. John wiped out, and the skinned knee revealed (GASP) blood! Due to his fatigued state, he had a meltdown and refused to ride or walk. So, I buckled Helen in the carseat, put John in his booster, and set off down the street to check on Maggie. By the time I caught up to her, she was waiting at the corner, trying to decipher the traffic patterns to continue. She had completed the sidewalked part of the route, and was left with a short distance to cover on the side of a quiet, neighborhood, street (with no sidewalk). I rolled down the windown and verbally helped her cross the street, then idled along behind her, just close enough to block any traffic from coming up on her. I did get some funny looks as people watched the big van slowly following the young child on a bike, but I got her to the pool safely.
Then, on Saturday, the kids were anxious to go to the park/playground. It is just two blocks away, with only one very quiet street to cross. Jeremy was getting ready to go to work (attending commencement) and Helen had just fallen asleep. Since she so rarely gets to have an uninterrupted nap, I hated to disturb her. So, I took a deep breath and decided to consciously let them grow up a little bit. I said they could go to the park on their own as long as all three of them stayed together the whole time. They were so excited they were quivering.
I pointed out that they would need to eat lunch first, and they asked if they could pack a picnic to take with them. They gleefully packed up their own lunch. James delighted in being the official peanut butter sandwich maker, as this is a task he takes great pride in doing. Likewise, Maggie cut apple slices - her specialty. They threw in a bag of potato chips (though here I intervened and suggested putting just some in a rigid container, figuring it would salvage a few chips for the trip, and limit the quantities consumed). They asked me for a picnic blanket, and off they went on bikes and scooters, for the adventure.
Jeremy finished getting ready and had about 20 minutes to spare. I decided to leave him with the sleeping Helen and go check on the kids. When I arrived, they had eaten their lunches (although John's was woefully long on chips and short on apples and sandwich), packed everything up neatly, and were pushing each other on the merry-go-round. I played a few minutes then asked if they wanted to walk back home with me so that Jeremy could go to work.
"No! Can't we stay?" Well, why not? They were doing so well. Just as I was leaving, on a whim, I pulled out my cell phone and handed it to James. "Why don't you keep this?" I showed him how to call me at home. I asked him to either be home in 30 minutes, or call to tell me they were staying longer. At least that way, I would have a set time when I could begin to worry.
I walked home, Helen woke up to nurse, Jeremy left, and I, feeling smug and pleased with my newly-grown-up and self-reliant kids, settled down with a mug of tea in a quiet house. And then the phone rang, not 10 minutes after I had left the park. The first thing I heard was the screaming. "Mom? Maggie fell off the monkey bars. I think she broke her jaw! She can't move it and there is blood everywhere."
I quickly established with James the essentials. Maggie was conscious, and could walk. I therefore determined she would make it without a 911 call. I instructed James to simply keep Maggie quiet until I could get there. My mind went into the cool, detached, emergency mode. "Hmm, might not be able to stop back here if we have to go the emergency room. The diaper bag is empty. Gather up diapers. Grab the carrier. No, wait, need the car. Buckle Helen in carseat. Where is my wallet? Wait, Maggie will probably need to be cleaned up. Roll of paper towels. Wet washcloth." I actually got out the door with amazing speed, considering.
I heard them before I saw them. Maggie was still screaming rather hysterically. She was quite a sight - blood and mucus dripping off her nose, her shirt dirty and wet, her har matted to her face. Fortunately, I could see right away that she was more scared than injured. That was a relief as I struggled with lugging Helen and her carseat across the mud and grass between the road and the bench where the 3 older kids sat. I set about helping Maggie to wipe off and calm down.
An elderly couple approached to see if help was needed - it turns out that James had seen them in the parking lot while waiting for me and asked if they could get him into the adjacent school to help clean Maggie up. They couldn't, but were checking in now to be sure that things were under control. (And perhaps to report my license plate to the police for leaving these kids untended?) Okay, so that wasn't quite what I had told James to do, but reasonably responsible, under the circumstances.
I sat with Maggie for a few moments while she collected herself, and the story came out in bits and pieces. Trust a 3-year-old to break the ice. "James didn't push her. It just wiggled a lot." It seems she fell because the kids were playing tag, and somehow both of them continued the game onto the monkey bars. Maggie climbed to sit on the top (8-10 feet up) to hide from James, who snuck up behind her and jumped to tag her, surprising her into falling off. I bit off the urge to scold. Obviously they had both already figured out that this was not a very wise idea.
James really had been trying to help. He had gotten Maggie to the bench. He had tried to clean her up, as all the blood was upsetting her. (The water bottle he had poured all over her face explained some of the condition of her t-shirt, not to mention her streaked-looking face.)
I helped Maggie limp to the car, which was made more awkward by the weight of Helen's carseat. We drove around the school to load up Maggie's bike, then James offered to escort John home on their bikes. Everyone got bathed, and changed, and settled in for a quiet snack. At first, I berated myself. Obviously, I blew that one. The first time I decided that they were old enough to go the park on their own, and look what happens. If I had been with them, I would have stopped a game of tag played on the monkey bars.
Then again, if I had stopped them, they never would have believed me that it was dangerous. They would have just tried it some other time, when they were alone and out of my control. And who is to say I would have noticed what they were doing in time to stop it? Mom was right - I need to make them safe for the world, because I can't keep their world safe forever. And after all, they did pretty well. They stuck together. They took care of each other. John didn't run away during all the commotion. They all got home safely. Maybe not such a terrible decision on my part, after all.
Yes, sometimes, letting go has to be a deliberate decision to let them grow up a little. And I think they did.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
How to mother four?
I haven't done any "room-mother" type things this year (or most years). Usually, I am either at work, or home with younger kids. So when my oldest politely begged to have a parent drive for just this one trip, the mother-guilt hit a high and I said I would find a way.
Of course, the trip turned out to be the day that Jeremy had to give two final exams, so no hope of him driving, or watching kids. I would have to be the one to drive for the all-day trip to the science museum in Lansing. Which meant I would have to take the 4-month-old, so she could eat. And realistically, I would have to take the 3-year-old, too, since Jeremy would be unavailable. I diligently went about making plans. I cleared it with the teacher to take the younger kids along in the car. She arranged for a second mom to ride with me and help me chaperone my group, in case I needed to change a diaper or the like. I arranged for my father to meet us at the museum (handy that the trip was to his neck of the woods) and chaperone the 3-year-old, since he definitely requires a 1-on-1 supervisor.
So, here we were. I had successfully overseen the bathing, dressing, eating of four kids and myself, and gotten us to school by 7:50 AM. I woke Helen from a sound sleep and force fed her until our scheduled 8:20 departure, hoping that she would then sleep peacefully for the drive. Thankfully, it actually worked! We drove for an hour with two moms, three fourth graders, John, and Helen.
We arrived and did actually make contact with my dad. Small miracle number one. He ran off, chasing John.
The museum was crazy - noisy and chaotic, with seven different schools visiting the small place that day, including over 60 kids from our school. Helen, strapped in the front-carrier, seemed fine. She calmly observed it all until she drifted peacefully off to sleep. She didn't make a peep until noon, at which point the 4th graders were in "classes" with museum staff and I could slip off to feed and change her. I, on the other hand, was a bit frazzled. There were two moms and only three 4thh graders to keep track of. Shouldn't be too bad, right? Except, even with vigilance, we couldn't watch in 3 directions at once, and we couldn't for the life of us make the three stay together. So I was constantly turning, searching, etc. I don't love that kind of environment.
Then, we drove home again. This part didn't go so well. One of the other 4th graders (not my own, fortunately) tormented John in the backseat. Very hard for me to adjudicate from the front. The other mom seemed disinclined to say anything, I suppose since it wasn't her son. I should have been more assertive and asked her to handle it, but I didn't. Partway back, John's shouting woke up Helen, who screamed for a very long 10-15 minutes of my life. I didn't feel I could stop and make everyone wait when we were due at the school, but also hated to leave her screaming (for everyone's sake). Eventually she put herself back to sleep and we made it to the school.
At this point, I was ready to limp home and nurse my fast-encroaching head cold. No such luck. This just happened to be the first day of the kids' summer swim team practice. Which meant the schedule was:
2:25 PM: Arrive back at school from field trip. Go to playground with John and try to keep him from picking fights with 4th graders or jumping off the top of the slide.
2:45 PM: School is out. Get the boys to the car, collect Margaret, and drive to optometrist to pick up new contact lenses. Feed Helen in car while sending James in with my credit card. John of course wanted to go along, so Maggie also went, to chaperone John. Quite the parade. Do you suppose I looked a bit irresponsible as a parent? But James turned out to be a very capable courier, bringing out the slip for me to sign. Have I ever mentioned that I love having an almost-10-year-old?
3:45 PM: Go from optometrist to piano teacher's house. Drop off James. Helen is now asleep in the car and John wants to go for a walk. Sent Maggie with him to go around the block. Bemused that I would send the six year old to chaperone the three year old on a walk. Yes, they are within shouting distance, if not in complete line-of-sight, but I wouldn't have sent James out to chaperone himself, let alone a younger person, when he was six. Funny how perspective changes as kids get older and live through things.
4:15 PM James is done with his piano lesson. Send Maggie in. Put boys in car, and drive to take James to Swim team practice.
4:30 PM Got James to the pool just in time, if he can change in 2 minutes.
4:45 PM Return with one minute to spare to pick up Maggie from her piano lesson. Load her up and back to the pool.
4:50 PM Need to escort Maggie in to get changed - she hasn't done this before by herself like James did last summer. Both Helen and John have fallen asleep in the car. Fortunately, the pool is next to Jeremy's office. Phone ahead and ask him to meet me at the van. He sits with sleeping kids in car while I get Maggie in the pool.
5:25 PM Jeremy returns to work, planning to retrieve the swimmers at 6 PM. I drive home.
5:30 PM John wakes up as I pull into our garage and begins to sob bitterly because he had wanted to watch swim practice. Unable to console him in any way, I give in. I turn around and drive back to swim practice.
5:45 PM We watch 10 minutes of swimming. Jeremy arrives and between the two of us, we get all four kids in a vehicle and home.
6:10 PM Pull into garage again. Notice that I have driven nearly 200 miles today. Ugh.
6:15 PM I need to serve dinner. Hmm. Thank goodness for Aunt Nancy's Christmas soups - still have the Hamburger Vegetable in the freezer. Just 15 minutes to the table.
7:00 PM Start hustling the kids through the bedtime routine. Wonder why I am so tired.
This sounds crazy, even to me. But it really, really isn't a typical schedule. Just a perfect storm. Couldn't happen again - at least not this week.
Of course, the trip turned out to be the day that Jeremy had to give two final exams, so no hope of him driving, or watching kids. I would have to be the one to drive for the all-day trip to the science museum in Lansing. Which meant I would have to take the 4-month-old, so she could eat. And realistically, I would have to take the 3-year-old, too, since Jeremy would be unavailable. I diligently went about making plans. I cleared it with the teacher to take the younger kids along in the car. She arranged for a second mom to ride with me and help me chaperone my group, in case I needed to change a diaper or the like. I arranged for my father to meet us at the museum (handy that the trip was to his neck of the woods) and chaperone the 3-year-old, since he definitely requires a 1-on-1 supervisor.
So, here we were. I had successfully overseen the bathing, dressing, eating of four kids and myself, and gotten us to school by 7:50 AM. I woke Helen from a sound sleep and force fed her until our scheduled 8:20 departure, hoping that she would then sleep peacefully for the drive. Thankfully, it actually worked! We drove for an hour with two moms, three fourth graders, John, and Helen.
We arrived and did actually make contact with my dad. Small miracle number one. He ran off, chasing John.
The museum was crazy - noisy and chaotic, with seven different schools visiting the small place that day, including over 60 kids from our school. Helen, strapped in the front-carrier, seemed fine. She calmly observed it all until she drifted peacefully off to sleep. She didn't make a peep until noon, at which point the 4th graders were in "classes" with museum staff and I could slip off to feed and change her. I, on the other hand, was a bit frazzled. There were two moms and only three 4thh graders to keep track of. Shouldn't be too bad, right? Except, even with vigilance, we couldn't watch in 3 directions at once, and we couldn't for the life of us make the three stay together. So I was constantly turning, searching, etc. I don't love that kind of environment.
Then, we drove home again. This part didn't go so well. One of the other 4th graders (not my own, fortunately) tormented John in the backseat. Very hard for me to adjudicate from the front. The other mom seemed disinclined to say anything, I suppose since it wasn't her son. I should have been more assertive and asked her to handle it, but I didn't. Partway back, John's shouting woke up Helen, who screamed for a very long 10-15 minutes of my life. I didn't feel I could stop and make everyone wait when we were due at the school, but also hated to leave her screaming (for everyone's sake). Eventually she put herself back to sleep and we made it to the school.
At this point, I was ready to limp home and nurse my fast-encroaching head cold. No such luck. This just happened to be the first day of the kids' summer swim team practice. Which meant the schedule was:
2:25 PM: Arrive back at school from field trip. Go to playground with John and try to keep him from picking fights with 4th graders or jumping off the top of the slide.
2:45 PM: School is out. Get the boys to the car, collect Margaret, and drive to optometrist to pick up new contact lenses. Feed Helen in car while sending James in with my credit card. John of course wanted to go along, so Maggie also went, to chaperone John. Quite the parade. Do you suppose I looked a bit irresponsible as a parent? But James turned out to be a very capable courier, bringing out the slip for me to sign. Have I ever mentioned that I love having an almost-10-year-old?
3:45 PM: Go from optometrist to piano teacher's house. Drop off James. Helen is now asleep in the car and John wants to go for a walk. Sent Maggie with him to go around the block. Bemused that I would send the six year old to chaperone the three year old on a walk. Yes, they are within shouting distance, if not in complete line-of-sight, but I wouldn't have sent James out to chaperone himself, let alone a younger person, when he was six. Funny how perspective changes as kids get older and live through things.
4:15 PM James is done with his piano lesson. Send Maggie in. Put boys in car, and drive to take James to Swim team practice.
4:30 PM Got James to the pool just in time, if he can change in 2 minutes.
4:45 PM Return with one minute to spare to pick up Maggie from her piano lesson. Load her up and back to the pool.
4:50 PM Need to escort Maggie in to get changed - she hasn't done this before by herself like James did last summer. Both Helen and John have fallen asleep in the car. Fortunately, the pool is next to Jeremy's office. Phone ahead and ask him to meet me at the van. He sits with sleeping kids in car while I get Maggie in the pool.
5:25 PM Jeremy returns to work, planning to retrieve the swimmers at 6 PM. I drive home.
5:30 PM John wakes up as I pull into our garage and begins to sob bitterly because he had wanted to watch swim practice. Unable to console him in any way, I give in. I turn around and drive back to swim practice.
5:45 PM We watch 10 minutes of swimming. Jeremy arrives and between the two of us, we get all four kids in a vehicle and home.
6:10 PM Pull into garage again. Notice that I have driven nearly 200 miles today. Ugh.
6:15 PM I need to serve dinner. Hmm. Thank goodness for Aunt Nancy's Christmas soups - still have the Hamburger Vegetable in the freezer. Just 15 minutes to the table.
7:00 PM Start hustling the kids through the bedtime routine. Wonder why I am so tired.
This sounds crazy, even to me. But it really, really isn't a typical schedule. Just a perfect storm. Couldn't happen again - at least not this week.
Out of the mouths of babes
I was standing around the hallways of my kids' elementary school, waiting with other parents to drive for a 4th grade field trip. John, the 3-year-old, was wildly running about the feet of the adults. As he bent over to enthusiastically demonstrate somersaults to another mom, she noticed the two large abrasions on his lower back.
"Oh, what happened, honey?" she cooed in a concerned tone. I looked over, surprised. Huh. Never seen those before. John was staring at her and not answering, so I had to jump in.
I tried to sound cool and offhand as I asked John about them. I didn't want to make it too obvious that I had no previous awareness of a significant-looking injury to my preschooler. (Now let me be clear - he wasn't oozing blood or anything. In fact, it appeared the marks were starting to scab over already. And obviously, they weren't bothering John since he hadn't mentioned them to me. But, I didn't want to look like the incompetent mother of a too-large brood, unable to keep her kids safe let alone in matching clothes.) "Oh, John, did you bump into something at preschool?" ("That should work," I was thinking to myself. After all, I can't be responsible for not knowing about injuries happening on someone else's watch, right? And besides, these new marks were right on top of the still visible scars from the injury a few months ago that was in preschool, so not so far fetched.)
John came right to my rescue, of course. "No, Mom! That is from when Daddy threw me up against the couch."
The floor shook with the collective dropping of the jaws of the other moms there as they turned to stare at me. Not much for me to say at that point.
"Oh, what happened, honey?" she cooed in a concerned tone. I looked over, surprised. Huh. Never seen those before. John was staring at her and not answering, so I had to jump in.
I tried to sound cool and offhand as I asked John about them. I didn't want to make it too obvious that I had no previous awareness of a significant-looking injury to my preschooler. (Now let me be clear - he wasn't oozing blood or anything. In fact, it appeared the marks were starting to scab over already. And obviously, they weren't bothering John since he hadn't mentioned them to me. But, I didn't want to look like the incompetent mother of a too-large brood, unable to keep her kids safe let alone in matching clothes.) "Oh, John, did you bump into something at preschool?" ("That should work," I was thinking to myself. After all, I can't be responsible for not knowing about injuries happening on someone else's watch, right? And besides, these new marks were right on top of the still visible scars from the injury a few months ago that was in preschool, so not so far fetched.)
John came right to my rescue, of course. "No, Mom! That is from when Daddy threw me up against the couch."
The floor shook with the collective dropping of the jaws of the other moms there as they turned to stare at me. Not much for me to say at that point.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
3 generations together - spanning 4!
Helen Diana VanAntwerp was baptized today (May 8, 2011). It made for a lovely Mother's Day. After church, we had a lunch for about 25 family members, including Great-Grandma Helen, the progenitor of the name. Baby Helen was a bit fussy all day - it was a long day with lots of people and commotion, and she slept little. Still, in her happy moments, she was very happy (and smiley). We were certainly happy.
Oops... I posted too soon. I just got the same shot from my own camera and I think I like it even better. Though in both you notice that baby Helen has HAD IT with this day.
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