A Little Make-Believe

My kids love to play racecars. They don’t just play with matchbox cars, they are the cars. They line up behind the couch, wait until I say, “Ladies and gentleman,” before they get revved up. I introduce them using their aliases, Tanner “Doc” racecar and Taylor “Lightening McQueen” racecar. They drive out to the podium and say a few words, mostly mumbling something about being careful of the other racers. Then I tell them to start their engines. Ready, set, go and the racers are off. Round and round the family room they go in circles until one crashes and needs repairs or they run out of gas. They come in for new tires every few laps and the race continues until one or the other decides suddenly that it is over. I hand out their blue ribbons, they take a victory lap and they line up to do it all again. This could go on all night if we let it.
Besides playing racecars, they also love to be trains. This time the setting is the kitchen; the track starts at the island then wraps around the table. My son has many alter train egos; he is James or Percy, Gordon or Mavis. My daughter is almost always Thomas. Again, I usually have to introduce them and say “Go, Thomas,” and “Go, James,” before they take off on the tracks. With whistles blowing and engines chugging, they find their own adventures at every turn. Sometimes they head to the “docks” or the “station”; other times they deliver the mail or haul coal. Each time around the track brings new excitement as they let their imaginations soar.
Whether they are being racecars or trains, they enjoy the freedom of childhood and the thrill of imagination. It is wonderful to watch them develop their young minds. There is nothing more beautiful and innocent than the creativity of a child. It is so pure and refreshing. If only we could all take a few moments out of our busy days and remember what it is like to pretend. If only we could hold on to the magic of childhood forever!

Potty Training Advice

My mom is aware of the potty training problems I am having with my son and she recently sent me an article explaining a new, and somewhat radical, solution. The article, “Expect potty-training success, and it will come” written by John Rosemond, discusses a program designed for older children who are not yet potty trained and may be resisting the use of the potty. Mr. Rosemond refers to a common problem known as “stool refusal” and uses this as the basis for his advice. My son does not have this problem; he simply will not use the potty at all. But despite this variation, the article does offer a possible solution for my problem.
To begin, Mr. Roesmond recommends using the child’s doctor as the authority who is demanding the use of the potty. My son, who is 3 1/2, knows what a doctor is and does and he has seen his doctor dozens of time, but I doubt that he would recognize him as an “authority.” The only authority figures in his life are myself and my husband and he hasn’t listened to either of us yet when it comes to understanding the necessity of going to the bathroom. We can certainly try using the “doctor” to motivate him, but I am not sure how successful that will be.
The next step in this process is to force the child to remain in the bathroom by himself until he has a bowel movement. In our case, I would just like him to do something on the potty without having an audience. Our problem with this aspect of the process is that my son will not stay in the bathroom by himself. But Mr. Rosemond addresses this problem and explains that if the child refuses “to stay in the bathroom, [the parents] were to gate him in.” This is what got my attention. Maybe we should put a gate on the door so I can walk away and he won’t follow. While this goes against most philosophies I have read on potty training, it may be just the solution we need. I don’t want to force my son into potty training, but he needs to learn soon. He is getting too old to keep wearing diapers and the older he gets, the harder it is going to be to teach him. I will give him a few more weeks, maybe months, to come around on his own. But if he isn’t potty trained by the time he turns 4, then we may have to put this plan into action. Then I can stop wishing he would use the potty and tell him to just do it!

Potty Training Trouble

I hate changing diapers. I couldn’t wait until my son turned 3 because I was sure that he would be potty trained and out of diapers. When that day came and went, I hoped that he would be potty trained for the first day of preschool. Well, that day came and went also. He is now 4 months away from his 4th birthday and we are no closer to being potty trained than they day we welcomed him into this world. I keep waiting for that miracle moment when he is ready, when he comes to me and says, “Mommy, I need to use the potty.” But I don’t know how much longer I can wait.
I have read everything there is on potty training and spoken to his pediatrician who assures me that my son will learn in his own good time and that lots of boys are not potty trained at this age. Well, that may be true, but I don’t know of any! We have tried rewards including stickers, stamps, potty charts, play- time on the computer, m & m’s. Nothing has worked. I tried taking him to the potty every hour and making him sit, hoping he would do something. But he wouldn’t sit still unless I stayed with him and I could only sit on the bathroom floor for so long. We remind him constantly to tell us when he needs to go potty and he never does. And even when we ask him if he pooped or peed in his diaper, he usually tells us no. We tried having him wear underpants but what a mess! After a few days of that, we went back to diapers. I wonder if he even realizes what it feels like to go number 1 or number 2 or is he just so absorbed in being a 3 year old that he doesn’t have time to worry about it?
Well, I worry about it. I don’t want to push him too hard because I understand that might just make him resist even more. But I also don’t want to have the only child in school who still wears diapers (even though he is the only one right now). And did I mention that I hate changing diapers?
We have had a recent breakthrough of sorts. Instead of insisting that big boys wear diapers, he now states that big boys wear underpants. That doesn’t mean that he is ready to lose the diapers yet but maybe we are getting closer. He does take great pride in picking out a pair of big boy underpants each day which he wears, yes, over top of his diapers! To be continued…

Beach Party

A beach party in the middle of winter? Yes, you heard me right. My son’s preschool had a beach party today. Even though it is only about 35 degrees here in West Virginia, the students all changed into their bathing suits and the classroom was transformed into a sand-filled adventure. Twenty 3 and 4 year olds and a few younger siblings piled into the room, eyes wide with fascination, ready to get jump in. They grabbed their shovels and buckets and began making everything from mere mountains and piles to perfect pies and castles. Some didn’t want to get sand on their hands or feet but they soon forgot about the gritty mess as they filled up their dump trucks and drove from one side of the beach to the other. It was a little bit of summertime magic; the only things missing were the sound of the waves crashing on shore, the smell of salt water in the air and the sun beating down on their backs.
And just as if it were a real day at the beach, they were tired and hungry after an hour in the sand. The smell of hot dogs on the grill settled them all down as they waited for lunch. Beach towels and blankets littered the floor of the adjoining classroom and everyone spread out for a wonderful picnic. The day would not have been complete without snow cones and cotton candy, which my children turned down in favor of playing with pirates and castles. But at the end of the day, everyone had a great time. Just like a day at the beach without the sunburn. What a great idea to chase away those wintertime blues!

Learning to Blog

So far my blogging experience has been frustrating to say the least. I sounded like an easy thing to do but it is a little more complicated than all the blogging gurus make it sound. Maybe I am just behind the learning curve and out of my element here but I am determined to figure this out. See, I am a writer; at least writing is what I last went to school to study. I don’t do much writing because I don’t have enough to say to write a novel, I don’t have enough expertise to write subject-matter articles, and I am not creative enough to write poetry or music. I write little snapshots of my life and that is about it. So starting a blog sounded like the perfect platform for me to say what I want, when I want and how I want. But I also want people to read it. That is where I have a lot to learn. What is RSS? What are metatags? How do you write HTML? These are just a few examples of the jargon I have encountered and I have no idea what it all means. Of course there are plenty of resources on the web to help me out but I have the tendency to over-research a topic and still not make much sense of it. It seems that whenever I stumble on a site filled with information it only leads me to more questions and when I click links to learn about something else, I forget what I started researching in the first place. So for now I have diverted my attention away from the technical aspect of creating a blog to just writing some content and get my ideas out there. I will return to the other blog stuff later and stop wasting time developing and designing the blog and just get down to writing.

Being a Perfect Parent

I am a parent. Probably not a very good one. So instead of offering advice and sharing good parenting tips and tricks, I will more than likely share my questions about raising children. Maybe some of you have the same questions and concerns, the same doubts and insecurities. I would like to think that I am not the only one who sometimes feels like I don’t know what I am doing. The only model we have for how to be a parent is our own parents. And I am sure that I have intrinsically acquired some of their values and lessons, but I still don’t feel that I have the adequate skills I need to be the “perfect” parent. Don’t get me wrong, I am not blaming my parents for not teaching me. It just wasn’t relevant at the time and I guess I didn’t pay much attention to the how they raised me. Not that it would have mattered much anyway because I would still be the same person and the same kind of mom that I am. I am not a disciplinarian, I am not strict, I am not consistent. I don’t know how to be those things even though I know my kids would be better off in the long run. It is just isn’t in my nature. I let my kids get away with too much because I want them not only to love me but to like me too. At least I know that I have succeeded in that respect. My kids do love me and I am grateful for that. But have I really taught them about consequences, disappointment, right and wrong? Have I instilled in them respect for me and for others? Have I taught them manners and patience? Have I taught them anything positive? Only time will tell. I will continue to nurture them and care for them and try to meet their needs as best as I can. I didn’t turn out too bad so hopefully they won’t either.

Where the Wild Things Are

Hi and welcome to my blog. Since this is my first real post, I thought I would begin by telling you why I chose the title Where the Wild Things Are. If you continue to read my future posts, I am sure it will become quite evident, but for now it seems like the right place to begin my journey into the world of blogging.

Most of you, I believe, are familiar with Maurice Sendak’s children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. As a child, this was one of my favorite books (my other favorite being Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown). I can still remember my mom reading this book to me night after night before I went to bed. I heard the story so many times that I can still recite it word for word even now that I am an adult. My mom (thankfully) saved my childhood copy of the book and passed it on to me when I became a mother. That same story quickly became a favorite of my son who is now 3 ½ years old. The pages are tattered and torn but the story remains the same and so do the memories. The book has been loved, hugged, cried on, slept with, thrown, and stepped on. It almost has a life of its own and has been treated in the same way that life often treats most of us. But in the end, it is a priceless memory from my past and I hope that my children will come to have the same connection and same love for the story that I do.

We now have a brand new copy of the book along with our very own Max doll. This one has been tucked away in a safe place so that it will not be destroyed before my children are old enough to really appreciate the value of books. Which brings me to my second reason for choosing this title for my blog. It is not all about my love for the book but also because of my “wild” life. I have two kids ages 2 and 3 ½. They are 16 months apart in age and right now, life is pretty crazy with them. They definitely have their “Max” moments and they have the same vivid imaginations. They are at such a terrific age but with that comes a lot of chaos. Since life with my kids will more than likely become the subject of most of my blogs, I wanted a title that truly reflected what that is like.

To Be or Not To Be...Polite

Someone once wrote, “Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the power to turn a life around.” So I wonder, why have we forgotten how to act politely towards each other? It is really such a simple thing to do and it really does make people feel good. I did something nice for a complete stranger today. It didn’t take any extra time out of my day, it didn’t cost me any money, and it didn’t take any special effort. It was a simple gesture of good will and yet it made me feel like I made a difference in her life. All I did was catch her in the parking lot of Wal-Mart after noticing that she left her checkbook behind at the register. No big deal. I just did what I thought was the right thing to do, what I would want someone to do had it been me who left my checkbook in a public place. It wasn't so much the fact that I told her about her checkbook that gave me a feeling of pleasure but that she appreciated it, that she was grateful, that she said thank you. It was reassuring to know that kindness can be met with kindness. That is what makes you want to be polite to others. I try to be polite - I say excuse me in the grocery aisles, I say hello and thank you to salespeople, I apologize when my kids are too loud or too bossy, I wave to those drivers who let me cut in in a line of traffic. Nothing grand, nothing that would win me a politeness award. Just small acts that show I care. But what I want in return are the same small kindnesses. Not looks of annoyance or disgust. Look me in the eye, smile, acknowledge that I exist, do something other than ignore me. Wouldn’t we all be a little happier if we performed a few more random acts of kindness throughout the day? I know I would.

And I also know that I would like my children to grow up to be polite and kind and respectful. My husband and I expect them to say "please" and "thank you." It made me extremely proud when my son's preschool teacher complimented his politeness. I know now that he does it without being prompted by us or reminded of his manners. He just does it because it is the right thing to do, the right way to behave. I also believe that my kids should address all adults they meet with "Yes, sir" or "Yes, ma'am" (even if it does sound like they are saying Yes, man!) That, to me, is a form of respect and demonstrates kindness on a very basic level. Simply put, it is polite. I believe there is great power in these small words and acts, the kind of power that can brighten even the darkest day.