Announcement

Caitlynn has her own blog. The postings aren't that regular but all the content is her idea. Sometimes I write the posts with her standing beside me dictating what to write but lately she's been posting herself. We'll see how far this goes. This might be a good way for her to learn how to write more clearly.

If you get a chance, check out her little blog... Remember, she's 8 years old.

Caitlynn's Fun House

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First day of school

Caitlynn's first day of 3rd grade was today.

As most parents, I want to know what she does all day in school. Well, I'm not that concerned (like I don't need all the details or play-by-play) but I am genuinely curious about 3rd grade. Do teachers still put kids in the corner? Is there a kid in class that eats crayons or paste? Or one that is constantly picking his (or her -- yes, girls can be just as gross) nose?

For being such a tattle-tale at home, Caitlynn is especially mum about the happenings at school. I asked her, "So, what did you do today?" Her response? "I don't remember." Mind you, I asked this within the first 10 minutes of picking her up. She's hiding something, I'm sure. Maybe her mind is like RAM. Can a doctor fix that?

At any rate, she'll go back tomorrow and the next day and then tell me me she forgot what she learned.

Miles starts preschool on Monday. Knowing him, I'll hear about every stinking detail of his day. Good. I need a refresher course on my colors and shapes.

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Zed's dead, baby. Zed's dead.

You know I try to do the right thing. We are living 4 hours apart from Joe at the moment due to special circumstances. Well, the circumstances are as such: Joe has a job and I'm going back to school. Montana is a huge state and there aren't any universities near where Joe works. So, the kids and I moved to Bozeman. We see him about every 2 weeks. It's tough but it isn't long-term, which is the only thing that comforts us.

Our apartment in Bozeman does not allow pets except for fish. So, we had to leave our cat, Dexter with Joe. Bummer. The kids miss Dexter, since he's a great little cat. In order to make things easier, Joe promised Miles he could have a couple of fish.

Fine. Fish. It brings back memories from when I was a kid and my brother Mike always had to have goldfish and then the time he dropped the goldfish in the gold shag carpeting (gotta love the 70s) and feverishly tried to save all of them. I got 'em, Mom!

So, I took Miles and Caitlynn to the pet store to buy fish. We chose 3 tiger barbs, a nice little aquarium, decorations, and food. I named the fish Larry, Curly, and Moe but Miles wanted one named Nemo. Whatever. The fish can't hear us and they all look alike. Names don't really matter at this point.

After the fish got to their new home, Miles decided he would talk to them every day. "Hello, fishy!" He even wanted to hold the fish because they are so cute and cuddly.

Miles spent the next couple of days observing his little fish. He noticed that they sleep-walk or rather sleep-swim because as he pointed out, fish don't have legs and therefore cannot walk. Who knew.

Then there was the morning that one of the fish died. Miles found it laying behind the "Gone fisin" sign and told me about it. He told me as I was making coffee and still quite groggy. I didn't believe him until I saw it for myself. Sure enough, the fish was dead.

We've dealt with death before (first my mom, then my 15 year old cat), so this wasn't a cause for alarm. It was just another thing that happens. Fish die. But it reminds me of that episode of The Cosby Show where Rudy's goldfish dies. The part where they hold a funeral is classic. Watch and enjoy. We didn't have a funeral but it did get flushed down the toilet. Miles did the honors.

So long, fishy (Nemo or Curly or Larry -- whatever your name was). We'll miss you.

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Just a few ways to screw up your child

More often than not, we as parents constantly second guess ourselves when it comes to parenting. Am I doing the right thing? Is he or she learning right from wrong? Do they know how to change a flat tire? You know, that sort of thing...

I'm one of those moms that isn't too strict but just strict enough to where they listen to me (well, most of the time at least), but I still worry if I'm screwing them up in any way, shape, or form.

To put my mind at ease, I developed a list of ways that will surely screw up your child. If they are babies or toddlers, you still have time to either do or undo some of these things. It's up to you.

• Become a rock star or pop star. Sure, there are rock stars out there with semi-normal children. I'd venture to guess that the boys in U2 and Bon Jovi have kids who are as normal as they can be considering the circumstances. However, think of it this way: Lisa Marie is still Elvis' daughter and will always be compared to him the rest of her life, no matter what she does. The same goes for Madonna's children and Michael Jackson's kids. Incidentally, this can be applied to famous athletes and actors. I'd say that a lot of these kids have some issues to work through. Can you imagine being Michael Jordan's kids?
• Letting your child become an actor in either films or television. Have you see how screwed up these kids get? The two Coreys, Drew Barrymore (before she cleaned herself up), Robert Downey, Jr, Lindsay Lohan. The list goes on and on. Doctor Drew is only one person, people. He can't solve all their problems.
• Work 80 hours per week. If you are single, then by all means work 80 hours per week. Have fun. You go get 'em. But if you have a family, perhaps it's best if you slow it down and work normal hours. Believe it or not but kids actually want to see you at some point during the day.
• Develop a drug or alcohol addiction or abuse your children. If I have to spend time explaining why these things are bad for your children, then there isn't much I can do for you.
• Enter your daughter in beauty pageants. Have you seen these girls? Little Barbie Dolls. As if girls/young women in general don't already have a warped sense of what beauty is. These pageants are what make Little Miss Sunshine all the more funny.
• Telling your child they are the best at everything. C'mon, folks. Your child cannot be the best baseball, basketball, and soccer player in the world. Unless you gave birth to Tiger Woods, Michael Phelps, or Usain Bolt, most likely your child is like the rest of us -- good at only a couple of things and chances are, and they won't be making millions of dollars doing it. We all have a niche in life and we aren't all superstars. Don't inflate their egos to the size of Texas.
• Sending your child to military school. Unless your kid falls into the category of "Worst Child Ever" I highly doubt they need to do a stint in military school, especially during the grade school years.
• Spoiling your child. Why do parents do this? WHY!? They're making it harder on the rest of us because eventually I will have to deal with a person who was spoiled as a child and I'm not going to be very nice about it.
• Being a Helicopter Parent. Please for the rest of us, do not accompany your son or daughter on a job interview or hover over them while they are in college. Let them figure it out for themselves.
• Telling them what to think. It's an amazing thing that we all have -- a brain. We each have our own deep thoughts just like Jack Handey.
• Not listening to what they have to say. Have you ever sat down and actually listened to what your 4-year-old is saying? Miles has a lot to say about all sorts of things. Take a minute and actually listen to your kids. You might learn a thing or two. Just the other day, I learned that fish don't have legs. Who knew?
• Writing a blog about your kids. Wait. Whoa! What? How did that get on here?

This list teams well with an earlier post, New to Parenting.

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Controlling Wife

Kids say the silliest things...

Like when Miles calls vending machines, "eating machines." The machine won't eat you, Miles.

Or when he was going through his binocular phase (seriously -- he was obsessed with binoculars), he kept saying "we need to go to the binocular store." Because binoculars are so popular that they need their own store on Michigan Avenue in Chicago.

And when the Caitlynn and Miles keep taunting each other with, "Your mom's in jail." I think they know they have the same mom. I think. And no, I'm not going to jail.

But I realize that all kids say silly things. For instance, back when Joe and I were first married, we were at his parents for a visit when his sister and her family were there. I was sitting at the table with his sister's daughter (she was probably 7 years old then) and I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. I fully expected to hear the standard answer (teacher or doctor). Instead, she said, "I want to be a wife. They control everything." Not a mom, a wife.

Do wives control everything? I'm the Supreme Ruler of my household but I'm not controlling everything around me. Like I've tried controlling the weather but I forgot the password (Mother Nature hates me). I often try to control the outcomes of football games but it never seems to work. No matter how many times I stomp my feet and yell at the TV, the Browns still lose. Dang it. Stupid Browns. Stupid football. (Can't the city of Cleveland get a break? Just one Super Bowl, that's all I ask. One time and they don't even have to win.)

It's all Joe's fault. Now that's something I can control.

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"A bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils"

What is it about buying crayons and glue that gets little kids excited about school? Caitlynn could care less about entering 3rd grade and making new friends. Instead, all she wants to do is buy school supplies at Staples and make sure it all fits in her backpack.

I remember being the same way. Shopping for school clothes and the perfect trapper-keeper (80s throwback) made August go by faster. Granted, I couldn't wear my new clothes until after October because the weather was still unbearably hot until then, but I could use my trapper-keeper from day one. (Oh -- these little treasures from the past - trapper keepers - are now banned in some schools. Kids are totally missing out.)

Even though the teachers hand out a list of supplies that all the kids need, you always want yours to stand out from the rest. I can see already that Caitlynn loves those "fancy" or "frilly" type of pens -- you know the ones I'm talking about (maybe not, if you're a boy). She'll probably pick out some girlie-type of pencils, too. If it's pink/purple with hearts and kittens, she is sure to love it.

But for adults, there is something about going to Staples or Office Depot (or even looking in the Quill catalog) that makes you think you'll more productive. If I buy these particular notepads and this particular pen, I'm sure I'll get more done. My boss will love me! Oh and I also need post-it notes and highlighters. Can't forget those! I guess the same goes for school supplies. Perhaps Caitlynn thinks she'll get better grades if she has frilly pens or girlie pencils.

I wonder, would members of the House and Senate get more done if they purchased their own pens and pencils? Maybe they need trapper-keepers and pencils with spiky-haired trolls. I think it would be helpful in writing the health care reform bill. I'm sure Obama would approve. I hear he uses magic markers to sign his name. Washable markers, of course.

(BTW, the title of this post is a quote from a movie. Do you know which film?)

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You can call me Al.

Everyone around me has a good nickname. Sure, you can call me The Marshall or The Enforcer but those are more like titles. They make me sound tougher than I really am. Joe calls me his Domestic Supervisor, which is just another way of saying, "the woman who controls my life." Again, it's more like a title than a nickname.

Joe has one of those names that goes with anything. He's the Average Joe, Joe the Plumber (or in his case, Joe the Teacher or Joe the PhD student), Joe-schmo, or Joey. I like calling him Joey. He had a nickname from the Navy - Turkeyneck - but I'm not exactly sure what it's referring to. Perhaps I don't want to know. Sometimes these things are better left a secret, especially when it comes to the military. Don't ask. Don't tell.

Caitlynn likes to be called Caty now. Joe calls her Caty-bird, which is very cute. Very appropriate for my girl.

Then there's Miles. His name is not easy to play with. When we were visiting my family over the summer, my dad started calling Miles "Mickey." He doesn't want to be called "Mickey" all the time but thinks it's funny nonetheless. I think "Mickey" is going to stick. He giggles every time I say it.

My friend Stephanie changed her name to Stormy back in college. Actually, I think someone changed it for her and it stuck. Stormy is edgier than Stephanie or Stephie. Plus, it helps me out since I know way too many Stephanies. It's hard keeping track of them.

But I need an edgy nickname. Until I can think of one, you can call me Al. Or Shirley. Whichever.

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Inquiring minds do NOT want to know.

Do I really need to know about every fart, burp, #2, or #1 action? My kids seem to think I need know. I get hourly reports about their bathroom habits. Throughout the day, I often hear Miles say, "I farted," followed by Caitlynn giggling. Then a little while later, Caitlynn makes her own confession.

Thanks, kids, for the play-by-play.

I realize that for the first couple years of a child's life, conversations between parents revolve around #1 and #2. Poop was a main topic when Caitlynn was a baby. Did she go? When do she go? Was it a lot? How many did you change today? Oh yeah? I changed more than you. It's your turn. Joe and I talked about it so much that now we are desensitized to it. "Poo" or "Poop" or "Dookey" are as common to us as say, "door" or "chair." We just don't realize how often we talk about it.

But here's the kicker... Joe and I have stopped talking about it. After Miles became fully potty trained, we became less involved in the bodily functions of the kids. I'm at the point where I could care less if he goes. I know when he has to go since he announces it daily. Caitlynn, on the other hand, is a bit more discret about it (she closes the door).

There's a point when it's just too much information and frankly, we're beyond that point. I just hope Miles doesn't share his bodily functions with his preschool class. I already have to scold him for peeing outside (something I really hope he doesn't do at school). Now I have to tell him that the teacher doesn't want to know if he farted.

She'll probably be able to smell it.

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I'm the Map!

Lately, Miles has been drawing "maps." I'm not sure what he is mapping. An escape route? The route to the bathroom? How to get to the buried treasure in the backyard?

No doubt this is the influence of Dora the Explorer who uses a map for all of her adventures. However, her adventures tend to take her through the prickly forest, over the raging rapids, and to the beach where she will save the whale from dying. Judging from Miles' maps, there isn't something or someone at the end that needs to be rescued, unless of course, it's his teddy bear that somehow found its way into the toilet, in which case he will now need a map to the laundry room.

If we had one of those handy-dandy GPS navigator devices, Miles would probably use that instead of drawing his own maps. They should make those for kids (or adults, depending on what your mental age is) with a voiceover by Dora.

Now go through the stinky bathroom, climb the mountain of dirty clothes, and then stand in front of the washing machine and yell for mom to turn it on. Your teddy bear is saved! We did it!

But I worry that with all the new technology that Miles won't learn how to read an actual road atlas. Then he won't be able to navigate his way to Uncle Tom's house.

Well, there's always hitchhiking. That's a valuable skill that is still in use. Just tell the driver to head east to Ohio and then ask if anyone knows where Uncle Tom lives. Surely, someone in Ohio knows him. He's a popular guy.

Don't forget to send a postcard!

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Addiction

I was reading the New York Times online today. I happened to read an article about American families eating breakfast while surfing the web, checking email, and texting. Basically, you wake up, turn on the computer, and never talk to your family until after your inbox is tended to.

Prior to the computer age, we simply got up, went to the bathroom, and shuffled to the front door to pick up the morning paper. Then we take it to the breakfast table to read and eat breakfast without talking to anyone. The newspaper is replaced with the online version of the New York Times.

My family is much like many others around the nation, which for some reason disturbs me. I like being a bit "off kilter" when it comes to family dynamics. We are a little abnormal at times, but I guess most families are. I wake up each morning, turn on the computer and make coffee. Then I spend a good amount of time reading emails and other crap online. I'm not sure there is anything wrong with this. Of course, I am in denial of my email/blogging habit.

Recently, I became aware of how much my own habits are copied by my children. I caught Caitlynn waking up before me and the first thing she did was turn on the computer. She's not checking emails but she is visiting certain websites (American Girl, Barbie, iCarly, and Netflix -- where she watches Mythbusters). If I don't stop her, she will sit at the computer for hours before getting up to eat. I have to force her to the table to eat her eggs and drink her juice. Then again, that means I have to stop my own internet habits in order to make breakfast for the family.

But is it an addiction if everyone is doing it? Is it so bad that Caitlynn wants to watch Mythbusters online? As long as she utters a few coherent words throughout the day, I tend not to worry. I'll start worrying when all of our conversations are through email or text messages while we live in a 900 square foot apartment.

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Commercials

Have you seen any Brawny paper towel commercials lately? I have. I just love how they depict mothers all smiley and happy when their children spill enormous amounts of juice and milk. Yeah, because I'm always cheerful when the kids attempt to pour all the milk out of the gallon jug into a pint-size glass but instead get it all over the tile floor. It just makes me so full of joy to use up a half of a roll of papertowels to clean up juice. I always smile when things like this happen. Don't you?

Can't the advertisers be realistic for once? They should make a commercial where the kid spills his bowl of cherrios and milk and his mother stands there with a look of horror on her face. "God damnit. Not again. Now I have to waste a bunch of papertowels on this?! You should be more careful! How about this time you lick up your mess instead of me wasting money cleaning it up. What do you think about that? Huh?"

It's time for a reality check and for the Brawny guy to come back. Don't give me anymore cute, smiley kids and happy moms.

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One way to talk to babies

We moved to a new town over the weekend. Miles was having fun making new friends in the sandbox and I overheard his conversation with a two year old.

The two year old was just sitting there making mumbling noises (get the marbles out of your mouth, kid!) and Miles was trying to talk to him. Frustrated with actually trying to speak words to the toddler, Miles decided to go a different route. He started saying "Goo-goo, Ga-ga," over and over again. The little boy just sat there looking at Miles as if he had just arrived from the mother ship.

Miles was so frustrated by the whole experience that he came inside and told me, "That kid doesn't talk!"

Awesome.

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