First Kid Problems as We Head Toward School. Let's Just Be Honest, He's Going to Have to Parent Himself. (3-Piece Suit and Stick-on Mustache to Parent/Teacher Conferences, They'll Never Guess)

We're preparing for kindergarten. 

We're ALL preparing for kindergarten. 

In addition to reading chapter books as a family, setting rules for when it's OK to have one's penis out of one's pants, and encouraging independence in maintaining self and stuff, we're also giving Henry chores around the house. It's going so great. So great. Three days in to him wiping the table down after we eat, he's trying to Tom Sawyer Robb into doing it for him. 

We're also all learning how to take criticism. It might be worse for us biggest kids than it is for him. 

See, he's been a less-than ideal citizen at school this past few weeks and has been getting into trouble. So, we, his nighttime keepers, we have to respond in kind with the teachers and get him to shape up. 

He's always been such a compliant little guy, and OUR LOVE CAN FIX ANYTHING, so I just assumed a few days of hugs and reminders and withdrawal of Easter candy and television would get him back on the nice list. 

But, nope. 

So then we started this behavior chart sticker thing. 

But, nope. 

So, today, we had to step up our parenting game, and IT WAS AWFUL. I hate stepping up game. 

We don't spank. So far. So our 'awful' is really us only putting the hammer down delicately on a pile of afghans. BUT, nonetheless, he was so upset. We rubbed his tiny nose in the TV and candy the rest of us were enjoying and largely confined him to his own room to work through the nervous breakdown he struck (and redecorate his closet, as it turns out). He came through it and seems to understand the expectations better. 

We'll see what tomorrow brings. Oy. 

I thought infancy/toddlerhood was hard because you have to go and keep the kid alive and not lose all your hair to them as they yank it out by its roots and stuff...but I'm beginning to fear, nay, anticipate, that there may be WORSE PARENTING SHIT yet to come. 

Our reactions when we hear he's being a menace are the following: 

1. Oh, God! Is he sick? Wounded? Did some terrible shadow person touch him? WHO DO I KILL?

2. Was it the other kid's fault? Because my precious snowflake is very kind and loving and surely must have been provoked? 

3. He looks up at me with those giant Disney princess eyes and tells me he has no idea what happened...so maybe the adult teacher in the class who's been doing this for 10 years was mistaken? Or has it out for my kid? WHO DO I KILL?

4. Well, shit. I guess it's possible, though unlikely, that sometimes my beautiful child of the universe can be a bit of a dick and needs to stop being a dick so he can get along well with others. 

5. Wait...what? You expect me to do something about #4? Why me? Come on. Make someone else. This sounds like emotional toil. He likes me! I want him to like me! We're buddies! We have a secret handshake! 

6. He doesn't want to do the handshake because he's mad at me now because I made him go to his room without any jelly beans. WHAT IF HE NEVER LIKES ME AGAIN!? 

7. He's gotten through the crying all on his own. He is showing pretty decent levels of remorse. He's hugging me now, but I also kind of think he's frisking me for jelly beans.

8. We have to do this whole thing again tomorrow? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

So, there you go. We're learning how to parent a bigger kid and he's having to learn how to kid a bigger parent. 

It's exhausting. He's 4. They stay under our care until they're 18 or something, right? Is this why people have more babies when their older kids get big and snotty and require this master level parenting? Because I get the just wanting tiny cheeks that are thrilled to see you and only occasionally need redirection, but not, like, reprogramming. I get all that. But I suppose then the cheeks kid grows up to do the shitty kid thing, too, huh? 

So, we're all headed to school in the fall, kindergarten or bust. We have to be mature or we don't get jelly beans. 

Fine. Whatever. 

 

 

The Thoughts Inside the Head of Henry, Volume 47

this is my second post today and i should probably space out my attacks of inspiration,  but this really took me no work at all, since it's all henry. and i just don't want to forget this good stuff. 

today he was listing off the people he wants to invite to his birthday party since, you know, we're within 3 months of that sacred date now (and he's been planning it since the day after his last birthday)...and i asked if he wanted to invite a certain friend. without missing a beat, NO. I WILL INVITE HIM NEXT YEAR TO MY HAUNTED HOUSE BIRTHDAY PARTY WHEN I TURN 6. then he was off to the races about how we're going to need to buy more spiderwebs because what we have is woefully inadequate for a child's birthday party. 

oh. so we're doing that then. mmmmk. 

and later on a walk he was telling us, I'M HALF POLAR BEAR, HALF EEL. HALF JAGUAR AND HALF MONKEY. 

i guess the german, polish, english parts got eaten. 

and last night, when he was trying to weasel his way into getting me to fall asleep next to him when i was putting him to bed, he said, I HAVE BAD DREAMS WHEN YOU LEAVE. (further discussion of what he's dreaming about, how we can change that, what positive things he can think about instead, etc)...I HAVE 100 BAD DREAMS IN THIS HEAD.  

sigh. it's very hard to argue with data like that. 

and also it would make a good emo song lyric. 

but probably my favorite creative henry thing of late is this: 

when we were discussing the cool stuff he'd have in his new own bedroom after we moved anna out into her own room, he decided he wanted a DINOSAUR COLLECTION and YOU KNOW, ONE OF THOSE THINGS? THOSE BALLS WITH SOMETHING IN IT WITH WHITE SNOW AND YOU SHAKE IT. BUT MINE WILL HAVE A DINOSAUR (pause to roar) AND INSTEAD OF SNOW, IT WILL HAVE MEAT. 

it took me a while to puzzle this one together. he wants a dinosaur snow globe with meat fallling instead of snow. when asked for clarification, it's not tiny plastic t-bones he pictures, but like, tiny pretend chunks of flesh. in a snow globe. and he was very casual about the whole thing like we should just be able to go grab one on our way home at target. you know, in the creepy tourist department. 

it's possible we've messed him up for life with the whole vegan thing. 

Get Off My Lawn/I Want to Be Lady Yoda/Wait, Is That Already Oprah?

you know that thing where you age and you're confused by everything?

i'm not old. i'm 35. that's not even half my lifespan. and if i keep eating this weird vegan food it may be only, like, 1/6th my lifespan or something. (kale might make you live longer, does nothing for your math)

but i'm aware that i'm not young, either. my back hurts all the time because i do this dumb thing where i insist on walking on my hind legs without asking for help. and i'm terribly out of the loop when it comes to modern idioms and pop stars and reality television.

i guess no one nae nae's anymore? i'm so disappointed. i learned that sweet move from my 4 year old. 

i refuse to look up what 'on fleek' means because for the longest time i thought they were saying 'on feet' and i thought it was a pedestrian thing, and then i thought 'on fleet' was like a military thing? like maybe it's navy week or something? and then i just gave up and ate some more metamucil wafers. 

my grandfather, who passed away last year and we just miss him all the time (hi, Big Hank! love you! stop messing with the angels!)...he was way hipper than any 90 y/o should be. he was on facebook, up on current events, etc. but he thought LOL meant "lots of love," which i guess it did at one time, or does in some circles....anyway, he missed when it changed to 'laugh out loud.' it was endearing except those few times he used it regarding someone's recent cancer diagnosis or horrible car accident. 

but, yeah, otherwise he was nailing it. i'm not nailing it now.  i'm already past clueless and i'm, like, 30 years away from being 90. 

only with the younger people whom i really trust, will i admit my ignorance. the residents (doctors) who are 10 years+ younger than me...or the people in my writing class...sometimes after bridges of mutual respect have been built, THEN i'll be like, 'ok, wtf does ____ mean?' 

i actually was going to use a specific example there of an acronym i didn't know that i learned in class the other day, but i CANNOT REMEMBER IT RIGHT NOW. 

oy vey. it was really good and i planned to use it long past its current relevancy period, and i've already forgotten it. 

oh, well. i just have to get really wise and noble and eccentric and then people will think i'm like, 'above' what's hip. they'll think i must have higher braining going on and can't be bothered with flash in the pan trends. when i don't know what in the world someone is talking about, i will just close my eyes like i'm having a prophesy. 

i just have to try to be like Lady Yoda and not care that i don't know how to climb a vine or snap a vimeo or tinder things. 

(do be hip or do not be hip. there is no try). 

 

Hard, But Good (Not a Dick Joke)

'be brave' was my new year's resolution. 

i'm surprised by some of the ways i've had to be brave since i made that promise. 

i thought always pushing myself to the limits of sanity and sleep was the fierce thing to do, but i've learned recently that asking for help and slowing down and looking for access to peace is actually harder, and braver.

i like concrete plans and certainty, known outcomes. i get all liz lemon about lists. to-do lists are my spirit animal. (it's a sad little spirit animal with glasses and no fur on its butt from where it's rubbed it off from stress and worms, but whatevs).

the 'certain' trajectory of our life has been called into sharp question recently. we don't have two jobs anymore, we don't have two retirement accounts steadily growing never fast enough, anymore. we're trying a new business venture that we think is pretty brilliant, but could fail brilliantly, too. we're having to re-work the dynamics of our relationship and examine preconceived notions and expectations and how they effect each of us in our marriage/business partnership. 

it's hard, but good. it's taking a lot of patience and courage. and ice cream. 

my therapist (i am eternally grateful to her for all the ways she's made me (us) mo' bettah'), said something the other day like "flexibility in life is the ultimate sign of success." 

whoa. i never thought of that. i kind of thought having a giant savings account would be the ultimate sign of success, and with it, more flexibility to travel to europe sometime in the future when our hairs are gray, or artificially colored to not be gray. i thought spinning wheels in a blur of busy panic now, was 'paying our dues' for the end goals of getting our kids through college, so they can start their own wheels spinning, and getting us to a point where we can retire at 74, just before we have our first heart attacks. 

i'm a) being a little sarcastic and b) still not entirely convinced that this ISN'T the way it's supposed to work....and c) plan on having my first heart attack WAAAAY before 75, but d) i'm thinking maybe we can upset this system, think outside this box a little....still have what we need now, be preparing for the future, AND have some time and peace and adventure in THIS phase of life. maybe? maybe? we'll see. 

i'm learning to sit still better. it's hard. this weekend, anna and i were both out for the count with illness, so we've had built-in days of rest. robb and henry were at a zillion birthday parties, and robb's been a cooking storm. it's been so great having healthy, homemade food for the first time in ages, and being in the kitchen preparing food for the family is restful, therapeutic for him. 

i look around my house at the piles of disorganized life i'm not getting to while i'm resting, and i feel the familiar rise of panic in my chest, but i'm learning to better share the burden and learning to let stuff g...g...g...go. 

not letting that nagging anxious voice tell me i'm a failure, or dictate the decisions i make is hard. it takes all my bravery. i'm trying to bravely, deliberately define success on my own terms and make choices not out of fear of where i might be failing or falling behind, but out of faith and optimism for what could be. 

it's hard, but i think it might be good. 

Great Kid. Terrible Roommate.

so, i'm taking this sketch comedy writing class and we pitch ideas for sketches all the time, right? and it's best to write about things you know, because you can be more specific (funny), so we try to write about experiences we live. but because i'm something like 80 years older than all the other people in my class and am one of the only marrieds and def the only ones with offspring i acknowledge, i try to be careful not to make all my sketch ideas about life with kids. 

but it's so hard. because parenting is fucking ridiculous. right? there is so much good stuff to share. (jim gaffigan does it.....) 

a while back i had this idea for someone complaining about their roommate, and the big reveal/punch line is that it's actually their new baby. 

but, really. 

my roommates don't: 

-respect my privacy or boundaries

-ever share the TV

-ever help with cleaning or cooking or grocery shopping

-ever replace the TP when it's gone. or know how to drive to buy more.  

-know how to be patient or disciplined. when they first moved in and demanded milk, it got real weird.

-tell time and they are perpetually late for everything with zero remorse

-ever offer to pay rent or utilities. they don't know what rent is. they have $9 in nickels they stole out of the bottom of my car. 

-care to bathe and have to be coerced into hygiene several times per week for the household good. 

my roommates do: 

-interrupt me all the time, especially when i'm on the phone. especially if it's about work. 

-put things they're eating either jelly-side down on the couch or into my mouth while i'm talking.

-use my name like it's a tic

-fart on my pillow

-cock block. all. of. the. time. 

-act like i'm the Beatles when i come home (this one is pretty great)

-play role-playing games all the time where they are animals and monsters and we're living on a moon train or whatever. (my roommates swear the only drug they take is benadryl but no one believes them).

-have a song for everything, and are able to fashion instruments out of everyday household items. like remote controls and television monitors. it's so fun. 

-laugh almost all the time, which is SO great. but does it have to be so naked all the time. does it. 

does it. 

 

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes or Counting Blessings and Dollars, There are Way More of the Former

alright, so here's the thing. 

wait. before i tell you THE thing, i have to tell you this other thing. 

anna's feet stink now. 

and. i. love. it. 

she's a real big kid who runs in the mud and works up sweatsickles and has stinky feet. and also, with the stinky feet, come conversations and the alphabet song, which she gets SOOOO wrong and it's so funny and adorable and great. every day she sheds the baby anna and gains the big kid anna and it's fabulous. she's COOL and feisty and curious and funny. 

henry keeps learning to read but denying that he's doing it and getting mad at us when we catch him in the act. and also he's just so happy and sweet and great. and also his feet stink, too. have for a long time. 

we are hashtag so blessed. 

the real thing is, robb lost his job last week, and with it, half our income. 

so that's a real kick in the soft and danglies. 

but. we were looking for an exit strategy out of that dumb job anyway, and thinking about ways we could free up our time to better manage the house, start a new business, and be more available for the kids. 

for one thousand different reasons, this was really good timing and we are really excited about it. we're both individually in the best head space we've been in ages, and our marriage is strong like bull. 

this has been a hard year prior to this loss. if our marriage is now a strong, healthy, old tree, there was a while recently when it was wearing one of those pink tags on it indicating it had mold and needed to be razed.  

(no i am not melodramatic, YOU'RE melodramatic. i keep telling you that). 

we've worked hard to fix it, and we're better for and to each other now that we've been in years. we're the tree doctors. bam. 

anyway. that's where we are and what we're up to. we're trying to take it slow, careful, tender. one day at a time, one homemade meal at a time (woot!). it's exciting and it's scary and it's ok that it's both. 

mostly it feels liberating. we're crunching numbers so we can live lighter, and we're motivated. we discovered that last year we spent 4 million US dollars in going out to restaurants. this year we're aiming for 2 million. fingers crossed. 

and in those low moments of panic and doubt, we can count the stinky feet in the house and be glad for them. (there are now eight (#8)).