Emancipation

I think our kids are "saving up" for when they turn 18.

Kirby: "I'm getting an Mp3 player when I turn 18."

Connor: "When I turn 18, I'm going to get on my motorcycle and ride down to pick up my iPod and my cell phone."

Actually, it feels good to know that they are hearing something I tell them, and it sure doesn't hurt for them to think they're not getting anything until they're 18, right?

Mommy's Little Helpers

Wow...May 19th! That's the last time I posted. I have such a hard time motivating myself to write these days. Well, I guess that's been the case for several months now. I still compose posts in my head, but most of them never actually make it out of the jungle of my marshmallow mommy-brain.

The boys are out of school now, and we are excited about having two months of not having to run around like crazy chickens with no heads every morning. I'm feeling good about the boys' summer chore list, and I think they are too. Two new rules that I think are going to be life changing for me are:

1) TV goes off at 8am
2) B.O.B. time for 30 minutes every afternoon (an old camp term for "Body on Bunk")

So far, both of these little babies look promising. On the one whole day we've gotten to try implementing them (Friday), we got a lot done in the morning, and Connor actually fell asleep and took a nap!

You know, sometimes when I hit on something that seems like a real gem to me, I wonder why I didn't start doing it earlier. Then I have this moment of pleasant revelation when it occurs to me, "Hey, I'm the mom here. I can make rules like this whenever I want!". I mean, I don't want to abuse my parental power or anything, but I think I'm going to start thinking about what works for me a little more. I'm also finding that teaching the boys how to clean their own bathroom - a multiple-step training process - has very real payoffs. Geez! Why didn't I think of this sooner?

Keeping it Real

Here is an article that was recently mentioned by a radio psychologist I like to listen to (Dr. Ray Guarendi). I really took his point to heart. While, personally, I am on Facebook, it has been a love-hate relationship since day one, for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on, but which are covered in this article:

http://www.usatoday.com/news/education/2009-08-24-narcissism-young_N.htm

I'm not saying that all people who do social networking are self-absorbed or self centered, but there is something about both blogging and social networking that leans toward gratuitousness. It really gave me a good reason to take a look at myself and question why I do it. Pride is a sin I struggle with daily, and I think the only way for me to stay grounded and avoid the kind of self-worship that I sometimes see online is to continually question my own motives. I think it will be a huge responsibility for me and Stephen (and all parents of our generation) to make sure that our kids know how to temper their use of technology with moderation, modesty and humility, and avoid the kind of self-aggrandization that it is so easy to fall into when a person is given the chance to virtually re-create herself.

An Unorthodox Moment

Monday was my monthly exam with the baby doctor, and I found it necessary to take the boys. I checked before-hand to make sure there wouldn't be any sort of examination. I know some people are okay with their kids in the room, but it's not a boundary I'm comfortable crossing. Regardless, it was neat that they could be there because they got to hear the baby's heartbeat.

As we were leaving the house, I asked both the boys to go potty (anticipating my trip to pee in the cup at the doctor's office, and not wanting to share that time with my children!). Connor went, and Kirby insisted he didn't have to go. When I checked in, the first thing I was asked to do - as per usual - was leave a urine sample. I handed the boys, who were settled in watching TV, my purse and said, "Watch my purse, I have to go to the bathroom and I'll be right back."

"Oooh, I have to go too!" said Kirby.

"Me too!" piped up Connor

What? I thought I had anticipated this and nipped it in the bud? We all traipsed into the bathroom, and after the boys went, they chatted away as I picked up a cup and began to write my name on it. All of a sudden, the chatter tapered off and Kirby gave me a suspicious look.

"Uh, what's the cup for mom?" he asked.

"Well," I explained, "I have to pee in it, and then the doctors will test it to make sure that I'm healthy and the baby is healthy." (I honestly don't really know what the heck they test for, or why they take a urine sample, but it must be important, right?)

Kirby like that. "Cool," he said. "Can I try it?"

"Oooh, can I hold the cup?" Connor asked with too much excitement for my comfort.

I did the trick, all the while trying to ignore the boys' gaping stares. Then, I opened the little door in the wall and put the cup in the two-way cupboard. This completely baffled the boys, and as they started to question me, I told them to listen. We could hear the nurse opening the door on the other side. I said, "Look!" and opened the door to an empty shelf.

"Where'd it go?" they asked.

I couldn't resist. I proudly told them, "The pee fairy took it!" then had to giggle at my quick wit. Kirby saw right through that but Connor, completely taken in said:

"There's a pee fairy? Does she leave money?"

What Kindergarten Means to Me

I know what kindergarten means to Kirby. It means full days of being away from his little brother and big hugs at the end of them; it means recess and playing "chase the girls" with his buddy Teagan; it means sneaking chocolate milk when you've been told to buy white milk with the quarter, because mom and dad won't really know; it means having to go to mass one extra time a week; it means getting to be the first kid in the family to go to school; it means independence.

I can tell you that what kindergarten means to me is a little bit different. To me, it means dropping off that little baby that I have nursed through 10 days in the NICU and a tonsilectomy to be cared for by someone else; it means watching him walk through the doors to the school and realizing that I can't control what happens inside; it means that I can't make sure he eats all his lunch, or that he buys white milk instead of chocolate every day; it means that he's starting to figure out that there are girls to chase; it means that his little brother and I miss him all day; it means a big hug and a smile when I pick him up; it means that from here on out, he will be preparing to be independent; it means he's growing up. And you know what? I think his dad and I have every reason to be proud of the little big person he's becoming.