Kerplunk

Friday nights are typically pretty low key for our family.  Alex has dance class, and the other two kiddos usually stay home with Mark while I take Al to class.  After that, we have an easy dinner, then everyone is off to bed (parents are exhausted by 9pm on Fridays!).  I was looking forward to another one of these pleasantly predictable evenings, but the universe seemingly had different plans.

I received a phone call from Mark; I expected him to tell me that he got delayed in a meeting at work, and wouldn’t make it home in time to stay with the kids…meaning that I would have to drag everyone out and listen to Addie and Andrew whine and fight all through the hour we’d spend at the dance studio.  Not fun.  I was rather annoyed at the mere thought of it; it’s been a long, wonky week (two snow days and one delayed start, remember!) and I needed a break from cranky kids.

I answered Mark’s call, preparing to hear the news of a late arrival, and not expecting to hear “My car is dead.  On the freeway.  Not sure where.” Suuuuuuper.  I take it back; the “I’m running late” speech would be way better than this announcement.  I began to panic a bit.  If he didn’t know exactly where on the freeway he was stopped, then how would I ever find him?  The kids were going to freak, especially Alex, who really looks forward to his dance class every week.  Mark proceeded to explain that he was just letting me know not to wait for him, that he would have the car towed.

I should mention that this car is 14 years old, has been completely rebuilt (engine and such) at least once, has gone through endless repairs, and has been on its last legs for the last couple of years.  This was inevitable.  It broke down last week (on my birthday, fun!), but we were able to jump it and get it going again.  It (surprisingly) survived the Polar Vortex. Alas, it seems as though that was its last hurrah, as it now sits sadly in the driveway.

And we are left to figure out how to replace it (and yes, take the kiddos along when we go car shopping tomorrow).  The prospect of getting a new car should be exciting, not headache inducing; but, when only one parent works, any major purchase can bring about physical reactions.  I know that we’ll figure it out, as we always manage to find a solution, but until it’s settled, I’ll just be over here, stressing out about something new.

I should just be thankful that Mark made it home in one piece.  Once we were all home and getting ready for dinner, Mark told me how he was just driving along, in the middle left lane, when all the sudden the gas pedal gave out and the car made a terrible noise.  That was it: weird noise, then no power.  He was coasting along on the freeway, during rush hour, yet somehow managed to make it over to the far left to come to a stop on the shoulder.  He contacted me, then AAA, then the police…as the power went out completely and he had no hazard lights.  Cars were whizzing past him, as he sat helplessly in the broken down car; scary!  The police came along to light some flares, then left him again.  Of course, his phone died, but the tow truck finally arrived and brought Mark and the car home.  Hopefully someone else can come get it sooner rather than later, as it was dumped right in the center of the driveway (I may have driven through the grass a bit to get my van into the garage when we got home…but that’s the least of my worries right now).

So tomorrow, as you’re enjoying your leisurely Saturday afternoon activities, think of me.  I’ll be stuck at a car dealership, half listening to Mark negotiate a price on a new car while the kids tear the joint apart and I rip all my hair out.  Good times.

Twirl

I’m convinced that my little ballerina twirls more than she walks.  Addie twirls and spins, spins and twirls, all about the house…and the grocery store, and through the mall, and probably even at school, given the opportunity.  I wish I could see what she sees in her mind as she dances; is she on a big stage in front of lots of people, or in an empty studio?  Is she wearing a big, fluffy tutu, or her standard leotard and tights? I should ask her to write it out for me (as she is quite the writer, too!).

When asked that million dollar question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”, she often says that she wants to be a ballet teacher.  She has a true love of the arts, and she is so fortunate to have a fantastic art program at her school, and she started her fifth year of dance studies this fall.  Five years!  She was just three years old when she started dance classes, and she has loved every minute of it.  Last year, she began talking about auditioning for her dance studio’s company…at just six years old.  She still as a couple years of learning and dancing to do before she can audition, and she knows this, but I love that she has a vision of being part of that program.

Last month, my mom took us to see a performance of The Nutcracker.  As always, BalletMet Columbus put on a beautiful show, and although it wasn’t Addie’s first trip to the iconic holiday production, she was instantly captivated and swept into the magic and beauty of the show. The best part, for me, was watching Addie as the dancer portraying the Sugar Plum Fairy stepped forward for her curtain call; she almost came out of her seat, applauding so hard, and her eyes were huge and sparkly.  Maybe she imagined herself on that stage someday?

I can see that her ballet studies are also building Addie’s confidence.  One of my proudest moments as a “dance mom” (although it is one of my life missions to NEVER be a true “dance mom”…you know, one of those pushy stage moms…it’s just not my thing) was watching Addie leave the dance studio a couple of months ago, then stop short and turn to go back in to talk to a classmate.  The other girl didn’t look familiar, but I figured that they either went to school together, or had formed a new friendship after just a few weeks of class.  When I asked Ad about it, she simply replied “She’s new to our class.  I wanted to let her know that she did a good job today so she would feel welcome.”

It’s funny how our kids can teach us things without meaning to, isn’t it?

My hope for Addie is that she can continue to dance, and enjoy her classes, for as long as it remains meaningful to her.  She has already abandoned other activities (like soccer), in favor of ballet, as she knows that she doesn’t have room in her schedule for everything.  I will continue to encourage her, enjoy watching her practice and perform, and wonder how she envisions herself as she twirls through the living room.

My guess?  On stage, in front of a large audience, wearing a sparkly purple tutu.

Lessons

With three kids in the house, I am constantly throwing out phrases like “Read a book!”, “Snacks should be fruits or veggies, not junk!”, and “Pick that up!  Don’t just walk over it!”.  Most of the time, these suggestions get drowned out by all the noise in the house, and even if the kids do hear me, they just big fat ignore me. Those things aren’t fun; the alternatives are much more appealing.

Between a long holiday break and extra cold weather, we spent a lot of time at home; with our busy schedules, this is unusual.  It was nice to not be rushing around on our crazy paths, but I allowed us all to get a little lazy.  I told myself we were relaxing.  Now I’m paying for it.

Our kids don’t have the latest, snazziest electronics; partly because we don’t want to pay for it, and partly because they are all under ten years old and just don’t need it.  However, we do have some gadgets, and they are easily sucked into them.  This is where the “Read a book!” suggestion came into play.  Actually, it was more like “Read. A. BOOK!!”, especially after they started fighting over whose turn it was to play on whatever tech-y toy had their attention that day.  That was my solution.  Put away the gadget, get a book, and be quiet.  Easy enough, right?  Only, it never worked out that way.  They may have read for a while, but later they were back at it.  The days were long, so in the end, they enjoyed more screen time than they typically get.

Being stuck in the house also led to mindless munching, so they heard “Snacks should be fruits or veggies, not junk!” quite a bit, as well.  It was Christmastime, though, so there was a LOT of extra candy and other sweets around, and we all indulged a bit too much.  See above about the days being long, as it applies to this as well.

As for “Pick that up!  Don’t just walk over it!”…well, they probably hear that (or some version of it) at least once a day, holiday break or not.  It makes me crazy when a kid walks on top of something (piece of paper, Hot Wheels car, each other…) but does not stop to pick it up.  I don’t care who put it there; if you see it, fix it!  I suppose I’ll be battling that one for many years to come.

Today, as I heard myself spouting off one of these, it struck me: when was the last time I listened to myself and set an example?  It was one of those light bulb moments: why don’t I follow my own advice?

Being a mother of a child with special needs is stressful.  Being a mother, or father, of anybody is stressful.  I have allowed myself to slack off, big time, and just write if off as dealing with stress.  “Sure, I can eat those Hostess cupcakes. Today totally sucked.”, or “I’ll just play five…or 15…more rounds of Candy Crush, because I need to clear my head.”, or, “Hey, I’ll just clean off my desk tomorrow, because I really need to just sit and eat cupcakes and play Candy Crush.”

I’m not saying that nobody should ever do any of these things; I’m not here to tell anyone how to handle stress.  But for me, it’s gone on for a long time, and maybe, just maybe I’ve inadvertently taught the kids that this is appropriate, every day behavior.  Something to think about, at least.

So, how should I be dealing with stress?  Honestly, I don’t know.  I have a gym membership, and enjoy going to the gym, but I have to do it around everyone else’s schedules.  I love to read, but at the end of the day, I’m exhausted and know that if I open a book, I could be up all night (I easily get whisked into a good story and insist on finishing it…).  I know that the diets of everyone in this house need to improve (we need to cut more processed foods out…it’s a tough process!), but it’s so much easier (and cheaper!) to stay in our regular routines (Taco Tuesday, anyone?).

I do know this: if I started listening to myself and doing what I advise of my kids, then maybe they would take notice.  If nothing else, I would be dealing with stress in a much healthier way.  Maybe that’s all the reason I need.

Remembering

(I’m taking a break from enjoying the current heat wave…we’ve gone from -8 degrees to a balmy 6 degrees…to bring you this post…)

This week’s cold snap, or Polar Vortex (will this be one of the top terms of 2014?  Or is it too early to discuss that?), prompted the news outlets to proclaim that we are experiencing the coldest temperatures in twenty years.  Twenty years?  That used to not mean so much to me, as I’m such a young, hip soul (play along and save your comments, ok?), but when I stopped to consider that piece of trivia, I realized that I actually remember the last time we dealt with subzero temperatures.  Not surprising, considering the reason.

I was a sophomore in high school, and it was February.  I recall that because my high school had an annual Sweetheart Dance, where girls had to invite dates (the feminist in me now hopes that this tradition has fallen to the wayside), and my friends and I were very excited for the dance.  I had a date, a cute semi-formal dress, and I had booked my appointments at the local tanning salon.

Now, if you know me, you are probably very surprised to read that last part.  Tanning salon?  Me?!?  The one that can’t be out in the sun, even with SPF 50+, and not get sunburned?  The pasty, freckled, very pale one that can not tan to save her life? Yep.  ‘Tis true.  Tanning beds were all the rage back then; we didn’t have any of this spray tan stuff.  I didn’t go tanning all the time, but every once in a while I could convince myself that if I just tried one more time, I could hold some color.  So, a-tanning I would go.

You can imagine the panic that set in, at least with all the girls, when school was cancelled for several days before the dance because of inclement weather.  It was super cold (thus, the parallel to this week’s weather), but I also remember a lot of snow on the ground.  We were so concerned that the dance would also be cancelled, as most school events typically are when school is closed due to weather issues.  For whatever reason, though, the dance was not cancelled, and I went ahead to my last tanning appointment on the day of the dance.

Everyone has those “stupid teenager” ideas, right?  Well, one of mine was to stay in the tanning bed for extra time that day.  What was I thinking?  I probably thought that I would walk away, nicely browned and looking lovely for the dance.

Wrong.  Way wrong.

That evening, I greeted my date wearing a black, strapless party dress, complete with a bright red sunburn (tanning bed burn?) that was even more painful than it looked.  The burn was in a lovely circle shape on my chest, as well as my back, which made the strapless dress just the perfect frock for the occasion.  Oh, the looks I got at the restaurant during dinner, and I got even more attention for not wearing a coat when it was so cold. That burn made me feel like I was on fire.  Had I fallen on the ice, I could have melted all the snow on the ground.  It was miserable.  In fact, that is the extent of my memories from that dance.  I’m typically pretty good at recalling details, but aside from the big facts (who my date was, the style of the dress, and the burn), I have managed to block it all out; or, perhaps my memories were just singed off my brain by the heat of that burn.

Fortunately, I never got back in a tanning bed again.  Sometimes it takes a severe burn from light bulbs to convince someone that they will never, ever be tan.  Ever.

Did the Polar Vortex prompt you to remember what you were doing twenty years ago?

Brrr…

I learned a new term today: Polar Vortex.  Apparently, it can best be defined as this: a rare force of nature which brings frigid temperatures, school cancellations, and many reasons for parents to beat their heads up against a wall (like we need more of those, right?).

It’s barely 7pm, and I just sent the kids to bed.  I’m done, they are done, we all are frazzled and cranky because we are STILL not back to our “normal” schedule.

In the midst of this crazy cold weather, I do realize that we are fortunate enough to have a warm home, stocked kitchen, and lots of activities to do; for these I am very grateful.  I’ve tried all day to keep that a focus, and to think of all of those who can not be thankful for any of these, in order to keep the negative if-my-kids-don’t-stop-fighting-for-two-seconds-I’m-going-to-run-away-and-join-the-circus thoughts at bay.  Instead of orchestrating grand activities that can be very overwhelming for the kids (“Hey, let’s make instruments and have a parade and then make ice cream out of the little bit of snow we have in the backyard, but only after we blow bubbles out the back door and watch them freeze!”), I just kind of sat back and let them do their own thing.  They made up a play, they practiced math and spelling on the computer, they looked at their books, and built cool Lego cars.

But now, we are over it (see above).  And because school has already been canceled, we get to do it all over again tomorrow.  Joy!

Seriously, though, I will continue to be grateful for our warm shelter and full tummies, and to pray for those who may have trouble finding either, or both, of those things (and not just now, during extreme weather circumstances, but always).  Hopefully, our power will not go out (knock on wood, as I’m seeing reports via Facebook that nearby neighborhoods have been losing power throughout the day), and we can drive each other bananas tomorrow and look forward to the return of school on Wednesday.

I will now return to my blanket cocoon on the couch.

Overtime

Well, another day off tomorrow.  I have mixed feelings.

The kids were finished at school for holiday break on December 19th…16 days ago, if you’re counting.  We’ve kept busy, with the holidays, trips to see movies, visits with family and friends.  But it’s been 16 days.  The kids miss their routines, and their friends.  I miss having at least two hours, Tuesdays through Fridays, where I can just go be “Jen” for a while.  Before last night, I had not left the house without a kid since break started…16 days ago.

Don’t get me wrong; I love my children, to the moon and back, and I know that they love me, too.  After a long break in their schedule, though, we drive each other crazy.  They need the time away from me and the house just as much as I need a break.  They need to exercise their independence, and I need to decompress.

So, imagine my concern late last week when reports of a big snow storm started rolling down my Facebook newsfeed.  I wasn’t as worried about impending snow (as storm tracks change, and often manage to not land on us) as I was about the bone chilling temperatures that were to follow.  I knew right then that we wouldn’t be closed for snow, but chances were probably pretty good that we wouldn’t have school due to super cold temperatures and wind chills.  A “snow day” means that holiday break would be extended.  I was torn.

At least one more day cooped up in the house with the kids (as Alex does not do well in cold temps, so there is no way I’m planning an outing!), which means they will continue to climb the walls.  On one hand, we get to put off the battles of post-break transitions for one more day; on the other hand, I now get to deal with more shenanigans from the kids.

More unintended mischief like the activity I just caught Alex doing in the kitchen, right now as I type.  I was trying to decide what to blog today, and Alex was calling to me from the kitchen about “bubbles”.  I heard the water running, and figured he was filling the sink with dish soap bubbles.  A mess, sure, but it was keeping him busy and he was giggling and enjoying himself.  It wasn’t until he started toward me with our fish, Bubbles, in his hand, that I realized the running water meant that he was trying to clean the little tank in which Bubbles lives (er, lived?  Perhaps too soon to tell…I think the poor fish is in shock…).  He meant the fish no harm, but really?  Really?!?

Or, maybe more fun like the stunt Andrew pulled today at church.  Communion is always served on the first Sunday of the month, and I love Communion service because it is so peaceful and lovely.  After everyone is served, the congregation joins hands, the lights are low, and everyone sings the Lord’s Prayer.  As the song comes to an end, the lights come back up in the church…powerful, right?  Well, it usually is, but today Andrew decided that licking my hand was a good idea.  So there I am, trying to enjoy a typically serene moment, while my kid is licking me and cackling because I’m trying to discreetly pull my hand away.  Ugh.

But, I’m sure we’ll be fine tomorrow.  We’ll find something to do.  Maybe we’ll bake some cookies, play some board games.  Perhaps we’ll have a funeral for a fish.  We’ll see what the day brings.  Let’s just cross our fingers that after Tuesday (because the cold snap doesn’t sound like it will be a quick one…), “snow days” will be few and far between.

Did I mention they will have been out of school for 16  17 days?!?

The View from the Corner Table

Ah, the weekend.  A restful break from the trials of the Monday-Friday schedules; time to relax, catch up, and renew your spirit.

Unless you live in my house.

Weekends are typically pretty chaotic, with little rest and renewal.  My husband usually works part of Saturday, then we attend to whatever the kids have on their schedules, then it’s family dinner time and we’re in bed by 8pm.  I stay up to watch tv or read (ok, fine, to play Words with Friends and Candy Crush, whatever), but that happens most nights because I’m just trying to cope with Mark’s snoring.  Sundays bring church, then the rest of the day is spent preparing for the week ahead (homework with the kids, laundry, blah, blah, blah).

Not terribly stressful (unless the kids are fighting, or having rough days), but certainly not like the days before kids when we could spend Saturday afternoons shopping, then go out for several hours on Saturday night, and then repeat that routine again on Sunday.  I suppose we could, but seriously, we’re just too tired.  Plus, when you add up the cost of babysitters, dinners, drinks, movies…who can afford to do it twice a week?  

So, we settle for the mundane weekends and look forward to the occasional night out.  Tonight happened to be one of those lovely evenings.

With my parents in town, we can occasionally ask them to take the kids for a few hours.  Add that to the generous gift card that my husband received from his employees to a local restaurant, and something magical and rare happens: the FREE date night.  No child care costs, the dinner tab has been paid.  Sign. Me. Up.  Once I realized that we could pull this off tonight, I put the plan in action.

The kids were thrilled to spend an evening with their grandparents (and two of the three are sleeping over there, bonus!), so we dropped them off a bit early so we could run some errands in peace.  Then we went to restaurant, and because we arrived shortly before the big dinner crowd, we were seated right away.

We were placed in a nice, cozy corner of the restaurant, where I could sit and look out at the other tables.  A dinner without the kids AND people watching?  Yes, please.  Not long after we sat down, a family was seated next to us.  I saw the two young children approaching their table, and I’ll admit it, I inwardly groaned at the thought of losing my quiet evening out.  Let’s face it, most children can be noisy.  My children are very noisy.  I always cringe when we have to sit down next to other diners, because you can actually hear people think negative thoughts when they see children in restaurants.  I would never say anything, because unlike others, I completely understand that kids can get antsy when you tell them to sit quietly in a new place for longer than five minutes.  I may not like it, but I get it, and I deal with it.  So, tonight, I was mentally preparing myself for a not-so-cozy dining experience, when I heard one of the nearby kiddos order their drink: “May I please have a lemonade?  Thank you!”  Manners…without prompting!  My kids have pretty good manners (I insist on it), but I do sometimes have to prompt them, especially in restaurants, because they are nervous about ordering (I mean, I can see where it would be awkward, being made to talk to a stranger just so you can have some chocolate milk…).  The kids at the table next to us were rock stars through the whole meal; no raising of their voices, no constant trips to the restrooms, no fighting over electronics while they waited for their food.  It was nice. After I realized that these children were cool, I could relax again.

That family was in and out of that restaurant fairly quickly (and didn’t leave without the kids thanking their server…maybe they were actually robot children…), and soon another party was brought to that table.  This time, a pair that seemed to be father and son.  The son seemed to have a developmental disability, although I couldn’t tell what (and it didn’t matter; it was simply an observation, one I’m prone to make as the mother of a child with Down syndrome), and he looked very excited to be dining out.  As the father was settling in, he looked up to see me watching them with a smile (as I was reminded of my Alex, who loves eating out in restaurants), and gave me a weary smile in return.  I know that expression, all too well.  The “yeah, my kid is different, I know” smile.  The brief look of concern at having someone watching them.  I’ve totally been there.  We get stared at all the time.  I see people watching us, sometimes with looks of irritation when Alex is not behaving well.  It only takes one negative experience like that to master that fake, tired smile.  That lightening fast acknowledgment and silent warning to strangers to keep their opinions to themselves comes naturally now, and I could see in that father’s expression that they have experienced it too.  I wish I could have silently let him know that I understood, that he’s not alone in those feelings; I could have easily conveyed that had Alex been at the table with us (but, let’s face it, I probably would have been too busy shuttling kids to and from the bathroom to even notice the people around us).  Instead, I focused on my dessert selection, but not without stealing glimpses of the duo next to us (this kiddo had excellent manners, too!).

Our quiet dinner came to an end all too soon, and we had to go back into the cold and return to reality.  These times are rare for us, and we enjoyed every second.  We’ll resume our boring weekend regimen now, and get ready for the week ahead.

But not before I catch up on my words and crushing of the candy…

Happy Birthday to Me!

It’s my birthday and I’ll blog if I want to…ok, enough of that.

Today is indeed my birthday, a day I enjoy and look forward to every year.  Why?  Because when birthdays stop, that becomes a problem.  Right?  Right.  So, as much as I don’t enjoy the extra gray hairs and wrinkles that aging brings (although you have to look closely to see any of that, thanks to my hair stylist and my fantastic AVON products!), I still celebrate my special day.

Social media has brought a fun new aspect to birthdays.  I woke up this morning to no less than 20 Facebook messages, and that number has exploded throughout the day to over 100.  So fun!  Each and every message has brought a smile to my face.  I’ve also received tweets, texts, and phone calls.  Truthfully, I am very grateful to everyone who has taken even just a few seconds to wish me a happy day.

This year, my day (or, Jenapalooza!) has some competition.  My kids have been out of school for two full weeks now, and we are all driving each other crazy.  Our beloved football team, THE Ohio State Buckeyes, play in the Orange Bowl tonight.  And, apparently there is some crazy weather taking aim at us (which, to my horror, could end up in snow days and an even longer holiday break).  But, I will still eat pizza and ice cream cake and bask in the knowledge that I have a few more hours to celebrate.

What do you think of birthdays?  Cause to celebrate, or time to fret?

The Story of Maisey

Happy New Year!

Well, did you make it?  Did you stay up to ring in 2014?  I did not.  Didn’t even try.  Once two of the kids were asleep, we threw in the towel and headed to bed at 10:30pm.  I didn’t even wake up at midnight, which means that none of the neighbors were shooting off the fireworks of which they are so fond every other time of year.  So, yeah, welcome 2014.

As I’ve mentioned, I’m not big into resolutions.  I don’t see the point.  I just heard this morning that most resolutions are ditched by January 17th.  (Note to self: the gym should be back to normal by the 17th!)  I do have goals for the New Year, though, but let’s not call them resolutions.  They shall be GOALS.  Less intimidating that way.

And so I give you my list of GOALS for 2014:

*Be more consistent with my diet and workout plans (ie, start diet and workout plans!)
*Be more responsible with spending (the kids do NOT need 15 pairs of pants, even if they are marked down to $2/pair, and really, nobody needs to stockpile toothpaste, unless you plan to donate it all)
*Read more (in addition to the books shared with the kids)
*Write more (blog every day, like it or not)
*Be more proactive with meal planning, grocery shopping, and cooking (this is a tough one, as I do not enjoy any of it, and I can be very lazy about it…the six cans of tomato paste in my pantry attest to that…more organization and planning will be less stressful…see second GOAL)
*Try to be still (not everything has to be done right this minute, and I don’t have to say “Yes!” to everything)

Nothing to shocking here.  These are more open-ended goals, and maybe I’ll even add more.  We’ll see.

What goals are you making for the new year?  Share them, and we can cheer each other on!

Wishing you a day full of whatever makes it a good holiday for you.  Happy New Year!