Super Noob:
Parenting

A while back I did a post about the things I find myself saying as a mom. Things which, in any other context, would be highly inappropriate. Could you imagine what any other person would think if you said any of this to them?

"No, it wouldn't be funny for a shark to eat you. Because it would hurt, and you would bleed."

"Colton! Get off the table...this isn't a zoo." (because that is acceptable behavior at the zoo).

"Don't pick your nose...it's like poop! It's nose poop!"

"Wait, why are you yelling at me?" (I always find myself saying "wait" as if they will actually pause).

"Colton, please take my underwear off your head."

"Colton...what do you have? (inward gasp) Give mommy that nail right now!!" (a long rusted nail he found outside).

"No honey, I don't like it when you lick my arm."

My nose to Colton's bottom "Whew, you are stinky! Are you poopy?" (Hello! Good one, genius).

"No, you can't have a cookie. No not before lunch. No, you need lunch first. Lunch is in a little bit. I said no, don't ask again. One small cookie, but that's it!"

"Addyson, you can't see the poop. Because it's gross, and I already wrapped up his diaper."

I must say at least half a dozen off the wall things every day. It obviously comes with the territory, because talking about all things poop is perfectly normal conversation in the company of other moms. Right?

I'm not exactly sure when it happened...but I've been trained. I'm so ashamed. Once upon a time I stood my ground. I made a statement, and I held to it. Was I only dreaming?

When Addyson came along, she began training me immediately. Boy, was I surprised. See, I was so sure that I would be training her. I even planned to have her eat and sleep on a schedule. She was going to be the best sleeping baby that ever graced God's green earth. I even read Babywise in preparation. Well, Addyson did not read her copy of the book, and she had other plans. For twelve weeks I held her for every nap. Well, I did, or Andy did (don't even get me started there, we were so at each other's throats). Holding her at naptime wouldn't have been so bad if she would have slept in a sling so I could multi task. Heck, I would have been happy if she would have let me hold her and just read a book. Again, she had her own ideas. My darling daughter had to be in her room, with the shudders closed, in my lap while rocking in the glider. If one of these criteria wasn't met, all hell (yes hell) broke out in the Mamma household. So you see, she has been working us from the start.

When she was 12 weeks, I was finally determined to teach her how to sooth herself at naptime. This bolgna started to seep into our nights (which to that point had been just fine, she'd nurse two or three times a night and go straight back down), so we sleep trained. It was the best thing I ever could have done...for her, for me... for my marriage ;) In three days time she would go down for a nap in her own crib with no soothing from me. Amazing.

Today, I was thinking about this as I lay next to her during rest time. It dawned on me that somewhere along the way, she worked me over. Did you notice the first sentence of this paragraph? That's right...as I lay next to her during rest time (insert record skip). It's the only way I can get her to nap now, and even that is failing lately. So I may throw in the towel. We may just give up once and for all on the old naptime for Addyson. That or I'll still be sleeping with her when I'm 80.

Sonora at Twinfinity did a post confessing her ownership of a gun, and DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom did a couple of posts about a crazy slightly eccentric uncle, and both ladies prompted me to write this one.

I own a gun. In fact, we own two guns. I have a twenty two rifle, while my husband has a shotgun. We don't own them for protection...our ammunition isn't even kept in the same part of the house as our unloaded weapons. We have them only for recreational purposes.

When I was about six or seven, and my brother was about four, we began learning about guns...both use and safety. Yep, at the tender age of seven I could take a twenty two rifle and shoot a soda can onto its side from about 150-200 feet away. My father is a huge advocate of teaching children at a very young age to have respect for weapons, specifically guns. It's his belief that by introducing the proper handling of guns, you eliminate the mystery and intrigue...the fascination held by many young people is lost. Having been raised that way, I can say for myself and my brother that this theory proved true. We have never felt the need handle or even look at the guns without an adult present. Our respect for them is great.

My experience, while it has made me a believer in my dad's teachings, also has me readying myself for my own children. Drew has already been shooting with my dad, my husband, and my brother. He began when he was about six or seven. So, like us, he has no fascination for the would be bringers of injury or death. I fully intend to teach my youngest ones sooner than later as well.

There are some things from which children should be shielded for as long as possible. One example off the cuff for me would be pornography. I am sure a very creative person might be able to draw some sort of flimsy parallel between gun and pornography exposure...but it would be just that...flimsy.

I may take a lot of flack for this, but I am a staunch believer in exposing my kids to guns while young. Now before you get all judgmental on me...think about how much safer kids would be if they didn't have a keen interest in guns. How many children would be spared from senseless (not that there is another type) accidental shootings at the hands of another child? The whole purpose is teaching them proper handling, safety and respect...not to turn them into firearm wielding maniacs. Finally, please note that my belief in teaching them at a young age does not alleviate the parent of the burden of keeping weapons stored safely out of reach of little hands. This you can liken to having a pool. Does a fence around it alleviate the parents of the responsiblity to carefully guard their children against drowning accidents? Absolutely not, and so it is with guns.

he's my brother...

I hope that this is a foreshadowing of their future relationship. I have a brother, and he is without question one of my best friends. My love for him is very much like the love I have for my children...it just is. It exists free of condition, free of burden. My brother has added a layer of depth to my life that has aided in the shaping of who I am today. Together we lived, laughed, cried, loved and faught our way through childhood, adolecsence and into adulthood. My life is richer, fuller and more complete as a result of him. Of all the gifts my parents have ever given, my brother is undeniably the most cherished I have ever received. It is my deep desire that my children also share the same amazing bond that my brother and I are so lucky to have. I hope that they carry each other through hard times, laugh with each other through good times, cry together through sad times, and pull each other through when the rest of the world seems to have left them bereft. So...it is my hope that this photograph of Addyson pulling her little brother, is a foreshadowing of their relationship, their ever growing friendship, and their unbreakable bond.

As my daughter careens toward her third birthday I am plagued slightly troubled by thoughts of what is yet to come. See, she is already so wilfull and mischievous and smart, and...I think you get the point. What scares me most is how similar in personality she is to me. Now that I am a mother, I have a greater appreciation for my own, and all that she endured. One might think I was hellbent on driving her over the deep end. I'm not saying I was a bad teenager, and that I got myself into major trouble. Nope, I was mellowed out (mostly) by then. I am referring to my days as a three year old...not that I remember much of them, but I cringe at some of the recounted tales.

It's 1979 and we are living in Worcester, Massachusettes (my mom's home town). My parents decided to live there for a little while, at my mom's request, to be near her family. My mom is hugely pregnant with my brother, and in no mood for my shenanigans. So she sends me out front to play (I still can't believe there was ever a time when that was okay). After an unpsecified amount of time elapses, she looks out the window to check on me. No Shannon...I wasn't Mamma then ;). Having a brief moment of panic, she goes out front for further inspection. Strewn about the sidewalk are my clothes. With much effort, she bends to retreive my articles from the sidewalk, only to find they are wet...like super soaker style. Blood pressure rising, she looks to the right. Still no Shannon. Looks to the left and there is Shannon, running naked from the waste down. She hollars calls sweetly for me to get my little butt over to her. All sugar and innocence, I come to my mom. My mom rushes me inside to put on clean pants, chastizing me all the way about not peeing in my clothes. "Shannon, when you need to go potty, you don't go in your clothes!" "Okay, momma." I say sweetly. "Can I go back outside to play now?" Of course she lets me...like any mother, she was anxious for any precious moments of peace she could muster.

For the second time, I am outside playing, mom is inside. Time passes, and reluctantly she hefts herself up to check on me. Expecting to see me galavanting down the street with the other little boys and girls, she coems to the window and stares in silent horror at the scene layed out before her. Her daughter, to whom she had told just moments before "we don't go potty in our clothes" was not in fact going potty in her clothes. Nope. Her daughter was squatting on the sidewalk right in front of the house, taking a poop. Paralyzed, my mom doesn't know what to do. Clearly she has to retreive her demon spawn angelic child, and get her into the house. Yet the thought swimming in her head is one of the neighbors saying "I didn't know you had a dog" as she is stooped over scooping the poop. Fortunately for my mother, no one saw her when she did finally go out to clean my mess. In my defense...I did not go potty in my clothes.

If this story is not enough to have me running scared over what's to come, well I need not look any further than my mom's memory of me and my escapades for further horror material.

...let 'em me doctors and lawyers and such. You've heard this Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson song, right? If not, you can go here to check it out. I happen to like this twangy old classic, and its title relates well to something that is on my mind in varying degrees every day. No, I am not worried that my babies may actually grow up to be cowboys, nor do I care whether they become doctors and lawyers and such (though that would be wonderful). What does concern me is their character. I am concerned over who they will be rather than what they will be, and I worry over my husband's and my role in shaping just that.

I like to think of a baby as a blank slate when born. A newborn baby doesn't lie, manipulate, steal, cheat, blame, swear or any other number of things our morally bankrupt society does on a regular basis. They are a clean slate, just waiting for someone to make their mark on them. This is where it all begins, this long arduous journey of shaping the moral character of another human being. Heavy.

So what do we do as mothers or fathers when we catch our child in a lie? What do we do when we witness our 2.5 year old manipulate her 15 month old brother so that she can end up with the toy that her little brother was contentedly playing with? What do we do when our 2.5 year old hears what we say, yet deliberately chooses to do something all together different than instructed? These things seem so small when singled out, but I believe that our answers to these questions are the blueprint used in shaping our children.

Modifying my children's behavior on a daily basis is exhausting. It is mentally and emotionally taxing. It sucks the life right out of me. But it is necessary.

Let's take lying. When our child lies to us, how do we react? Well, I for one, do not let it slide. Ever. In my opinion there is no reason...ever...that it is okay to lie. It is one trait that I consider absolutely despicable. So, when my 10 year old lies, he has a consequence. Now, I know that the consequence itself won't stop him from lying in the future, but it may have him at least thinking about it more carefully before he does it the next time around. And so it will go until he is an adult and out on his own. Hopefully, the constant reinforcement while home with us will have taught him that lying is never an okay solution.

Now, one more example. Deliberately disobeying. Addyson does this. Not very often, but often enough to test my patience. So when this occurs, it is stopped swiftly. She is redirected (as calmly as I can muster) by going for a timeout. Timeout is what works best for my daughter. She sits in her timeout spot for 2 minutes, then I calmy re-explain why she had a timeout. I tell her I want an apology, I give her a kiss and a hug and then we get on with our day. Most times, this same behavior doesn't crop up again (at least not in the same day). Through this reinforcement, Addyson will learn that having repsect for others is necessary. It is a characteristic she will carry with her throughout her life.

Our children are a direct reflection as adults, of the way they were parented as children. Being a parent is a huge responsibility and a tremendous blessing. In becoming a parent, I believe, we made a choice to always do what is right for our children. To always put their best interest first. It's not easy. In fact it's down right hard. Which means there are times when I would like to pretend I didn't just witness Addyson push her little brother down, or that I didn't hear Drew teasing Addyson relentlessly. In those times my husband's motto from Westpoint Military Academy resonates with me : Always choose the harder right over the easier wrong. In so doing, I take the worry out of the equation. I feel confident in my husband's and my role in helping to shape who they will be.

And if Colton and Drew want to become cowboys...well, that is A-Okay with me. So long as they are honest, hard-working, upstanding and moral cowboys ;)

After my daughter was born, I didn't go out and about a lot. Like I mentioned here, I was a tad concerned about her naps (well sleep in general). So as she became a little older and her naps were reduced in both frequency and duration, I ventured out more and more. Then Colton came, and the whole process started all over again. Though this time it was having two kids to load and uload that helped to create my aversion to the mini excursions.

Well...that is all a thing of the past now. It has been for quite some time. I love to get my kids out of the house! It breaks up the day, and I find, helps to curb unruly behavior. When bored, my daughter tends to find myriad creative ways to frazzle my nerves.

What about out to eats? Hmmm...that's a fun one. I have braved it many times, and do so with relative ease these days. Along the way, I have developed a routine of sorts that helps me wrangle my little maniacs angels in.

Here it is:
1. When out to eat, I never so much as glance at my own menu before deciding what to order for the kids.
2. I always ask the server to bring their food out as soon as it is ready rather than wait for the rest of the order.
3. If the restaurant does not offer bread before the meal, I am prepared with my arsenal of healthy munchies (always stocked in the diaper bag).
4. With my youngest, I hold him before his food gets to the table...then put him in the provided high chair...I have come to realize he only has a limited "shelf life" when it comes to sitting on his own.
5. As far as what/how to order for them...well, I usually select one healthy choice (grilled chicken with veggies) and one fun choice (mac n' cheese or pizza-no fried stuff though), and I split it between them. Oh, and I always have them sub out fresh fruit for fries.
6. Finally...RELAX. Really! Most people have been there before, and even if they haven't, they were young once too and I am sure caused their fair share of disturbances.

So...been putting off that lunch date with friends for fear of your babes reeking havoc? Fear no more. Try it out. I promise you will survive, and so will everyone else.

When I was a little girl I would lay awake at night in my bed thinking about my mortality. I didn't know then it was called mortality, I only knew that someday I would cease to exist. It scared me. It made me sick to think about not seeing my loved ones again.

Now that I am grown, I won't lie, I still have thoughts about my own mortality, but they barely make it onto my radar these days. Since becoming a mother, my scary thoughts all center around the most important people in my life...my children. I hear about a tragic accident involving someone else's child, and my heart sinks for the parents. Then the inevitable occurs, I begin to think about the "what if." What if it were my child? It would crush me.

I admit this is a bit morbid, but I feel the need to put it out there. I have wondered whether I am alone in this, or even a minority...or if this happens to all women when they become moms. When I say that I worry about something happening to my kids, that sounds completely normal even to me. But if I were to say that some thought on the subject crosses my mind most every day, well, that sounds plain nuts...even to me. Sadly, it's the truth. I am acutely aware of the lack of control I have over the rest of the world. Who am I kidding? I don't have control in my own household most days. So it leads me to think about all of the things that could harm my kids. When that happens (the thinking about these things), I am overwhelmed.

I wish I could say that I have absolute faith in God's plan for me and my family. In fact, I do believe God has a plan, and I do have faith in that plan. But I am not without fear. It seems like such a shameful waste of energy to spend precious moments pondering things that have not and probably will never happen. But alas, I do. Is that normal? Do all moms do this? If so, are they just better at redirecting these thoughts than I am? I wish I really new for sure.

Now...I feel the need to quantify a little bit. I am not nuts. I don't spend hours and days thinking about this stuff. But with such a delicate subject matter, it doesn't take hours and days of these thoguhts to be bothered. Bothered I am.

So...am I? Am I alone in thinking this way?

I don't understand why moms feel the need to justify their choices to other moms. Or anyone for that matter. I am not even talking about moms who stay at home vs. moms who go to work. Nope, I am referring to the little things that seem so big. For example, I have always been so very laid back over-the-top anal when it comes to my children and their sleep. This was particularly bad with my daughter. When she was napping, I freaked out whenever anyone would make a noise in the house. I wouldn't answer the phone during her naps for fear of my hushed voice waking her. I seriously thought my daughter was born with the special power to hear even a pin drop from clear across the house. So...my husband would get so irritated with me (rightly so), and my dad would blast me for not answering his calls, and I would get looks from friends whenever I mentioned my daughter sleeps on a schedule. You know the looks I mean, right? I think every mom has gotten them at some point. They are the very looks that create the need in us to justify our choices. Now...I will say, that when my second came along, and my daughter was only 18 months, there was no real way to keep her hushed when he was sleeping. So I had to become more laid back. Do I still think sleep in ultra important to their overall health and development? You bet. Do I freak out if one of them wakes too early at naptime anymore? No way. However, back when I was in the freak out mode still, I felt the constant need to justify my hyper-sensitive ways regarding my daughter's sleep. "You need to make noise in your house so she gets used to it." My dad would say. "I know, and I do, but dad she is a really light sleeper, and she needs her naps or she just gets so cranky." I would tell him. I am certain what he heard is "I am a first-time mom, and I don't know what I am doing." The thing is, I did know what I was doing. I knew that I was a little (okay a lot) over the top, but I also knew that her sleep was something that was a non-negotiable for me. It was something that I believed, and still believe, is crucial to healty development.

Just today, my kids and I were at the park for one of our mommy meet ups. A friend of mine was making a bottle for her 8 month old daughter, and asked her 2 year old son if he wanted one too. I can say with the utmost sincerity that I thought absolutely nothing of it! Seriously. But do you know what happened next? She began justifying why he was getting the bottle. There is actually a very sound reason behind it I might add. But that isn't the point. The point is that she is his mom. She knows what is best for him. Who on God's green earth am I to judge that decision?

So what is this innate behavior we moms all seem to possess? Why does it crop up like that? The bottom line is this...we are all just doing what we feel in our hearts to be the best for our children. No one in the world loves her child more than a mother, and we are all in the same boat. So how about next time you see a mom doing something you would never dream of doing, you just give her a knowing smile instead of a what in the world are you doing look. **This of course does not apply to anyone who is doing something obviously harmful in any way to their child**

Just remember the next time you feel the need to explain yourself to someone about a choice you have made for your child(ren)...don't. Remind yourself that mommy does in deed know best.