London Calling

Focused for hours

London spends hours building a plane out of a box

London always amazes me.  About two weeks ago, I went into a basement organizing frenzy, clearing out garbage, storing items we'll never use in the crawl space, building five sets of shelves and organizing everything.  The kids now have a nice play space that they can leave a mess if they'd like, but more importantly it's a space where they can be as creative as they want.  We've stocked loads of paint, brushes, crayons, glitter, paper, legos, toys and on and on.

I think that all kids love boxes.  And we parents love them too.  We've made all kinds of things from boxes:  houses, boats, restaurants, cars ....  London called all of the boxes  from the shelving units.  He wanted to create something with them on his own.  Since I was focused/hell bent on finishing my basement organizing project that I'd been planning for over a year, I was very happy to let him build.  (Note Violet was helping me build an entertainment center -- also for the basement -- which was a big project in itself.)

London was so quiet and focused that I completely forgot about him.  At one point, I saw him working with a very large pair of sissors and I cringed.  Could one really cut off a finger?  I could see loosing an eye for sure.  But before I stepped in to stop him from impaling himself, I saw how incredibly focused he was on his project.  In fact, he hadn't made a sound in over an hour.  He had cut out the body of the plane and one wing perfectly.  I just couldn't take him away from that.  So I sat nervously while he finished cutting and let out a big sigh of relief when he was safely done.

He was so proud when he gave me a tour of his creation.  He'd made wings from the styrofoam in the entertainment center packaging.  The wings were so long that at one point he had to walk away from his project because he was terribly upset about them touching the floor.  After a little break, he decided to add a small piece of styrofoam to support his wings.  It was a great lesson learned in patience. 

Now the plane sits undisturbed next to his train -- which he actually plays with every once in a while.   He loves to create and what I love most about his creations is that he can build based upon only his imagination.  He doesn't need a guide or directions or even a parent to help him.  I don't think I know many adults who have that kind of imagination.  I love watching him grow into a big boy.  (Yeah, I totally started crying when I wrote "big boy."  Who wouldn't?)

 

Girls day

Violet's tea party

Last Tuesday, when I picked Violet up from school, I realized -- because of a really big sign on the wall -- that school was closed with no childcare on Friday.  Usually, when the school is closed, the all year kids (aka daycare) have childcare.  It's a really fun day for them:  they bring their own lunch, play games and do all kinds of crafts.  But this Friday was one of a few days throughout the year where childcare was also closed. 

At first I thought of a number of scenarios that included Violet going to work with her dad or me watching her in the morning and then going to work around 11.  Somehow Taylor would have to watch her or the store in the afternoon.  It was a stretch. 

On Thursday I had a tiny epiphany.  First, I hadn't had a girls day with Violet in a long time.  Second, I'm totally burned out at work right now.  Third, I was traveling all of the following week.  We were long over due for a play day and it was great. 

 

Violet's manicure

We started by having a nice breakfast and sending London off to school.  Then we went to work out -- OK I worked out and Violet watched -- followed by a trip to the grocery store where Miss Violet pushed her child sized cart and helped pick out our groceries.  Then we had our friend Brooke and her mom over for a tea party.  (Super cute.)  After a little rest/cuddle time, we went for manicures. 

Girl time rules.  I felt refreshed and grounded after our day.  Violet was treated like a princess.  She's only four, but I hope that she'll have memories of the fun -- and sometimes crazy -- stuff we do together.  I know that I will.

Over scheduled

Before I even start this post/confession, I want to acknowledge that I realized I have gone over the edge. But please note that my expectations for the outcomes are low and my hope is only for the kids to have fun and learn. There is no pressure and if they don't want to continue an activity - outside of therapy - I am totally cool with it.

Here it is: I have over scheduled my kids.

London's extracurricular activities:

• Occupational Therapy
• Hippotherapy (aka horseback riding with an OT)
• Gymnastics
• Swimming

Violet's extracurricular activities:

• Yoga
• Spanish
• Art
• Gymnastics
• Ballet
• Swimming

London really excels with his therapy and swimming is calming for him. Three of Violet's activities happen at school during childcare hours, so if she wasn't doing yoga or art or learning Spanish, she'd be playing with the same toys or games that she plays with before and after her classes. 

Really, the hardest part is getting them to everything on time and with the right equipment. Still I don't think that I'd want them to give up anything. Violet LOVES ballet and gymnastics and London seems to like gymnastics too. I feel pretty strongly that every kid should know how to swim and they like their teachers. Plus, we swim together afterwards most Saturdays which is always fun.

It is kind of silly though. I never thought that I would be "that" mom but when I had to post a calendar for the babysitter and Taylor and Blu so that we could all juggle who was driving them or what kind of gear had to be packed for school, I just laughed out loud. These kids are busy and in turn, so are we. But - and this is very important - we are never too busy to have fun. A good case of the giggles is a great way to end a busy day.

Mommy & me

Before I start sharing about how I've completely over scheduled my kids, I thought I'd save grace with my readers (both of you) by talking about "mommy & me" time.  My company extends summer Fridays through the end of September.  It's a great benefit and I use it whenever I can.  It seems like my workload slows a bit in September and kicks into high gear in October, so it's a bit of the calm before the storm.

Since Violet is at Montessori until 6, I've been meeting London at the bus stop at 3 and we've been just hanging out together.  We've taken walks and stopped for ice cream more than once.  London took his allowance to the toy store one day and we spent an hour while he decided what he wanted to buy.  Last week we bought a tent for the backyard -- or the basement.  The best part is that I can focus all of my attention on him which he needs and I think really enjoys.  He's such a big boy some times.

I feel like I really listen when my kids talk, but they obviously don't because they keep yelling my name, "Mommy, mommy, mommy.  Mom!"  Or London always asks, "Mom, can I tell you something?"  Usually they are both yelling at the same time, while the dog barks and the phone rings.  All of this crazy makes a quiet afternoon with just one kid seem like a big prize to me.

Cherio!

We're I'm the middle of a bath rehab and our temp shower is in the basement. I was sitting with London while he finished his shower. That's when Violet decided to raid the Costco stash of Cheerios and help herself to a snack.

Two months of a temp bath. Two more to go? Oh Airoom/Airmen/Revive - whatever your name is today. Please finish this job soon. Rehabbing without kids was a pain but with kids is just nutty. Now Violet's running naked upstairs and dropping Cheerios everywhere.

No smiles for paparazzi mom

I had all of these grandiose ideas about the Christmas card this year.  Beautiful photos of the kids:  smiling, happy, having fun.  In the end, the card is just fine.  (And I just ordered it last night, so it may not even get to anyone before New Year's.)  Still, it's not the "vision" that I had.

There were two big obstacles.  (Maybe more.)  

(1) London refuses to smile for pictures.  Not only does he refuse to smile, but he avoids looking at the camera.

(2) We're only with Taylor a few weeks a year.  Time is of the essence when we're all together.

Over Thanksgiving, it was chaotic with all of the kids and food prep, etc.  We had a chance to take a few photos of the kids, but London wasn't in the mood or the lighting was wrong or somebody mad a face or whatever.  

Last night I decided to dress the kids in their Christmas pajamas and take a photo of them playing.  If I took enough photos, one had to work.  Wrong.  London wouldn't wear his new pajamas -- change is tough for him.  Violet was happy -- as usual -- but it was the end of the day and they didn't last long.  This was the best picture I took.

Maybe next year.

 

So many stories ...

I've been quiet for a while because life has been moving so fast -- too fast to take breath.  The last week, I've had a little time to catch up with normal life.  Almost every night, London asks if Miss Evelyn is going home or if Taylor is coming over (the sitters).  It is pretty evident that my being home is unusual for everyone.  I think that it's the first week I've been home every night since early July.

When normal isn't the norm, when it's not what you've become used to, it can be extraordinary.  Sitting in the rocking chair with one of the kids or reading a book with them or sitting in London's new tent is a very special treat.  The kids are more beautiful to me; they smell even more wonderful; their smiles melt even my worst mood. 

Of course life isn't perfect.  I took the kids for a drive on Thursday night through a Christmas light show at a nearby museum.  The lights were a little overwhelming for me -- too much, too bright.  (Grizwalds gone wild.)  Violet was at her limit and London was overwhelmed by it all.  After a screaming stop at Burger King for a kiddie meal, I was trying to figure out how I could stop for a bottle of wine without looking like (and maybe being) a terrible mother.  Couldn't drag them into a liquor store or grocery.  Although I bet I'd get a lot of knowing looks.  Couldn't leave them in the car like my parents used to do with us.  That just doesn't fly anymore.  In the end, we went home & I squeezed the remains of a box of white wine that I use for poaching fish & chicken.  My only feeling of dignity is that I could've easily made myself a martini, but for some reason, I felt that drinking hard liquor was so much worse than squeezing a bladder of plastic to get the last drops of cheap white wine.  Yeah, life is getting back to normal.

"Kids need love the most when they're acting most unlovable." Erma Bombeck

Erma Bombeck knew what she was talking about. 

Just when I wonder if the sign of the devil may really be somewhere on his body -- when he screams at the top of his lungs, and talks back, and he literally shakes with anger -- that's when this quote comes in handy.

First, I remember that beating him isn't the answer.  I take a time out or do a little yoga breathing or whatever.

Second, I think back to his sleep pattern.  Did he nap?  (not any more) Did he go to bed late?  Did we do a lot in the morning? 

Third, I determine the approach.  When I push, he pushes harder.  When he's tired -- which is usually the problem -- I need to get him to relax and quiet down.  Sometimes, he'll just fall asleep in my arms.  If he's not tired, I prepare for a time out.  That equals three minutes of top-of-lung-screaming and snot blowing and head slamming.  By the end of three minutes, he's pretty tired out and ready to give in.

And when I just don't know what to do, I need to remember what Bombeck said.  He's needing love and just doesn't know how to say it.  I guess there are a lot of adults like that too. 

"Quiet"

Taylor, London's "brother from another mother" as he likes to say, went back to Texas today.  He only spent a few weeks with us this summer.  Now that he's 16 and too cool for us, he wanted to get home quickly.  We all miss him.  Emily is always in a state of depression when he leaves.  The car will be safer though. He took part out of the side on his first trip out of the driveway.  Guess that's why teen car insurance is so expensive. 

To kick off our first night, we decided that Violet's first night in her crib was long overdue.  Her legs actually hang over the edge of her swing where she's slept so comfortably for the first seven -- yes seven -- months of her life.  She's cried for 42 minutes so far and although I have the sound off on the baby monitor, I can hear her from downstairs.  So, like any good mother, I sent Blue off to get a bottle of wine.  What do they call it?  Liquid courage?  I may need to sit outside for a while -- not that I couldn't hear her out there.  That little lady has a great set of lungs! 

Toddler power struggle

While I was pregnant, I prayed and prayed for a healthy baby that slept and was sweet and rarely let out a cry. God took pity on me and granted my request. For this I am so thankful.

As I often note, God has a fantastic sense of humor. Now, our lovely strong-willed toddler who has gone straight to sleep with a smile on his face every night at 7:30 has transformed into a vampire. He tricks you with his smile and his sweet way of saying "okay mama" when I tell him how the night will go. "Now London, we'll finish our bath, brush teeth, put on jammies and read two books. Then it's time to sleep." "Okay mama," he says in an angelic voice.

Yet, not more than fifteen minutes after I leave, I hear, "mama come back. mama come back. mama come back." Over and over and over. I often think that he'll talk himself to sleep, but no, no, no luck. We'll take turns going upstairs to talk to him. Not too often of course, but only when we feel the guilt -- so about every 30 minutes. For the last week or so, he's played this card for close to two hours a night.

Then there's the night waking when he scares the crap out of us by standing close to our faces as we sleep. He switches sides of the bed to keep us guessing. You feel someone watching you and open your eyes to see him just inches from your face. Very creepy.

We try to send him back to bed, but lately he's been putting up a big loud fuss and waking the little angel -- who, once awake, likes to stay awake for two hours. (Glad to have a DVR.) Last night was the worst -- so far. Baby Violet woke at 3 to eat and was fussy and super hungry. So, she ate and ate and ate and pooped and pooped and pooped. London joined the late night party around 4, just as baby Violet was snuggled into her cradle. We let him stay in our bed, which is unusual, but he's basically broken our spirits and we were too tired to put up a fight.

Within minutes, little Violet barfed an exceptional amount of milk all over herself, her cradle, and within a few minutes, her mommy. London thought this was just about the funnest event to take place in our house in ages. He wanted to help clean up baby and her bed and to provide commentary on the process. (His commentary was actually pretty entertaining.  "Oh, that was a big barf mommy.")  It was near 5 before we all got back into our own beds and went to sleep.

Just an hour later, London came back to tell us that he wanted to watch Mickey Mouse. In the process, he woke up our peacefully sleeping baby, who then realized that she was really, really hungry after spewing her late night snack everywhere. Blu took the little man downstairs and passed out on the couch while Mickey entertained London. Baby Violet ate and decided that it was time for her to wake up.

And that is just one night in the circus that has become our home.

So, is London jealous that the baby is in our room? Or just being a toddler on the prowl late at night? Or afraid of being alone? Any advice from parents is much appreciated. I actually laughed out loud when I looked at my reflection in the mirror this morning. I looked like a 50+ year old meth addict -- a very chubby one.