October 29, 2012 · 12:33 pm

Personal Space

The buzzword in my house theses days is “personal space.”  In a nutshell, when my boys are home, I have none.  They don’t like to be alone (or they’re afraid of monsters or their oedipal complex is at an unhealthy level), so they follow me around like puppies.  In the last few weeks, I’ve tripped over one or both of them at least a dozen times.

On the upside, I’ll never walk into a room and find that they’ve covered the furniture in a coating of flour or written the alphabet on the wall. On the downside, I can’t change my clothes, pluck my eyebrows, wash my hair, or go to the bathroom without a captive audience.

I kinda sorta lost my shit about it last weekend.  Here’s what happened.

Upon sitting on the toilet to do my business, Riley came trotting in the bathroom and sat criss cross applesauce on the floor at my feet.  Facing me.  Smiling.  Ready to tell me a new *knock-knock joke.  Shortly after that uncomfortable incident, I said, “Boys, I’m taking a quick shower.  Keep watching your movie.  I’ll be done in just a few minutes.  You know where I am if you need me.”  In other words, “Stay put, you crazy monkeys.  I need five minutes to myself or else I’ll implode.  And then you’ll have to call 9-1-1, and I don’t think you know how.”

(Note to self: Teach kids how to call 9-1-1 in case of emergency.  Then, teach kids not to call 9-1-1 for the hell of it.)

Three minutes later, Dylan opened the shower door to ask me for a snack.  Two minutes after that, Riley joined him in the bathroom and that’s when the wrestling match began, which included a lot of whining and little bodies smacking against the shower door.

Yeah, I lost it.

Sometimes when I yell at my boys, they look at me like they’re thinking, you’re so cute when your mad, Mommy.  Do it again!  Do it again!  Not this time.  I don’t know if it was the volume or the tone of my voice, the piercing look in my eyes, or the fire coming out of my ears (it was probably the fire coming out of my ears), but when I got out of the shower and said screamed, “Get out of my room now and do not come back in here unless you are bleeding!” they listened.

After I got dressed and dried my hair (all by myself!), I walked into the family room and calmly explained to the boys that it’s really important for me to have some quiet time to myself.  Ever since then, all I have to do upon leaving a room is say, “personal space,” and they know not to follow me.  (Most of the time.)

Do your kids give you enough personal space?

*An original knock-knock joke by Riley:  Knock, knock.  Who’s there?  Moo moo.  Moo moo who?  Moo moo pants!

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Filed under motherhood, personal space

October 26, 2012 · 9:21 am

The Fish Counter

Editor’s note: This is not a list.  Repeat.  This is not a list.  If you were hoping this was another list, I’m sorry.  I assure you I’m working on additional lists and will share them just as soon as I can.  I’m doing the best I can, people.   You have no idea how much whining, bickering, and spelling I’ve tolerated over the last 48 hours.  My boys are like an old, strange, spelling-obsessed married couple.  They even bicker about spelling!  They make it almost impossible for me to have an original thought besides the fantasies I have about having their vocal chords removed.  Quite frankly, it’s amazing I’m still here at all.  Today, instead of a list, I bring you a tale from the fish counter.  Try to enjoy it. 

So, I’m in the grocery store with Dylan after school one day.  We’re at the fish counter getting a pound of shrimp and Dylan blurts out to the fish guy, “Hi, I’m Dylan.”

The fish guy says, “Hi, Dylan, I’m Joshua.”

Then Dylan says, “Nice to meet you.”

The conversation goes on.  The fish guy, Joshua, asks Dylan if he had fun at school and what he learned.  Dylan responds with pleasantries like, “Yes, I had fun and yes, I learned a lot.”

A woman walks up to me and says, “Wow, your son is so polite.”

I pause and then respond humorously (sarcasticly?), “He has his moments.”

It’s true.  Occasionally, he has these astonishingly amazing moments of politeness, respect, and grace.  Other times, as Riley would say, “Well…”  But this moment – the one at the fish counter  – was one of the good ones, and it involved absolutely no coaching from me, so it was actually one of the really, really, really good ones.  Instead of acknowledging it, owning it, and feeling pride about it, I undermined it.  I deflected her kind words and made an excuse.  In doing so, I suggested this woman caught us in a rare instant of good manners, and that’s not accurate.  It wasn’t fair to Dylan, and it wasn’t fair to me.

Why do I find it so easy to blame and guilt myself to death about all of my kids’ flaws and my shortcomings as a mother, yet I find it utterly impossible to accept a compliment about them or my parenting?

It’s not luck that my kids say please and thank you (most of the time); rather, it’s fortune.  The greatest kind of fortune.  My boys’ character and values are the result of nearly six years of back breaking work, including periodic bouts of lunacy, but small talk with good manners at the fish counter with Joshua makes the reward worth the effort.

It’s taken me years to learn to say thank you when someone compliments me  And believe me, I still need plenty of practice.  I wish I had the same discipline toward accepting a compliment about my kids or – gasp – my parenting.

How are you at accepting compliments – about you, your kids, and your parenting?

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Filed under manners, motherhood, parenting