The Dawdler Sisters

This week saw the introduction of Incentive Plan Version 532.0. Really, I've lost count of how many rewards programs I've introduced and they pretty much start off with two excited girls viewing my visual aid (whiteboard, poster, etc.) with wide-eyed excitement and nods that 'yes, they understand how it works and will try diligently to follow it' and ends with either a) me forgetting to maintain the program or b) tears and tantrums because they didn't get the reward because of tears and tantrums.

This week's dealt with the morning routine. I'm tired of coming unglued when they both dawdle their way through breakfast and getting ready for school. I'll send Kate (formerly K) in to get dressed and look in 20 minutes later only to see her with her socks on each hand pretending to talk to each other. Elisabeth (formerly S) gets sidetracked by all the loads of minature crappola in her room that has been carefully amassed from any organization with access to an Oriental Trading Company magazine.

So I've had it. I'm tired of saying the words, "Get moving. Stop messing around. You're going to be late. Step on the gas, sister." I created a grid with pictures the progress down the whiteboard showing each step in the morning routine. Each girl gets a magnet with their initial on it and they get to "race" down the board doing each step in the routine. Whoever wins gets bragging rights, I guess. Haven't really determined a daily prize. I've told them that they are responsible for being ready by the time the timer rings because that's when the big blue mini-bus (AKA the new minivan) is backing out of the garage. If they are still in their pajamas with their hair raised to the heavens, then I guess that's how they'll have to go to school.

This morning was the first morning we tested it out. It worked really well until Elisabeth got sidetracked (she was leading for most of the way), and Kate was ready for me to "do hair" first. Then Elisabeth had a gargantuan-sized meltdown about the unfairness of life. We'll see how long it is before I introduce Incentive Plan Version 533.0.

Kissing on the Lips

While Husband was out mowing the jungle that is our front yard, S conspiratorily whispered to me, "Mom, I have a boyfriend.". Mind you, she's six...wasn't quite ready for the boyfriend thing. I ask her, "What does it mean to have a boyfriend?" "Well," she replies, "it means you kiss on the lips." I stifle my knee-jerk reaction to yell "Over my dead body!" and instead decide I'm going to nonchalantly go along with this out-of-body experience. "Well, I kiss you on the lips...does that make ME your boyfriend?" I say...seeing how much I can mess with her.

"NO, MOM!", says S, thoroughly disgusted. I press on "Well, then how can you tell if someone is your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend means you love him, " she states emphatically. "I love chocolate chips, " I tell her (this is too much fun)..."Does that mean chocolate chips are my boyfriend?" (She is now looking at me like I've grown a third head but being a parent gives me a license to be weird so I keep going).

"Are you going to go on a date with your boyfriend?" I ask. "What's a date?" she says, looking mildly confused. I explain to her that a date is when the boy drives to your house in his car, brings flowers to the door, opens your car door, then you both go out to eat or to a movie and talk a long time about silly things. Then, he takes you home and gives you a smooch before you go back into your house for the night.

"Can you drive us?" she asks. I tell her that most people REALLY don't want their mom along for a date. "Can we have a play date?" she asks. Now THAT is the kind of date a mother can support her six-year-old having!

With Friends Like These...

Lis (S) has been having friend troubles lately...I noticed it when I visited her class to evaluate her ADHD symptoms (pre-medication) and thought maybe once she had calmed down a bit, things would turn around for her. Her class is very lopsided in numbers favoring the boys, whom she actually gets along fairly well with one on one but what first grade boy is going to bypass playing with all his other guy friends to hang out with a girl? Not many.


I noticed it again when I went along on her field trip last Friday. I got on the bus and walked all the way to the back to find her crying because all her girl friends already had seat mates and wouldn't let her sit with them. I told her I was sure glad to sit by her but I guess boring mom is not on the same "funness" rank as another first grade girl.


It seems like girls go through this more often than boys. I can remember different times in elementary and then in junior high when I, too, had "friend trouble". Luckily, I had some friends I could always count on (Amy F, Amy TW, Gina H and Becky H). I remember growing faster than any of the other girls and the boys making fun of how big I was (they weren't laughing as much when we reached junior high and the high school boys didn't mind how "big" I was - HA!).


I can remember kids groaning when I knew the answers to the questions and would incessantly raise my hand (okay, so that probably was annoying...but I'm one of eight kids and was just so thrilled that SOMEONE wanted to hear what I had to say!). I alternated between wanting to have attention and wanting to be "just like everyone else".


As a mom, I'm not sure how to help Lis. Her girl cousins will be her forever friends but none of them go to her school. I have her school friends over for play dates and she is out for soccer and on the same team as one of the girls in her class. My observation seems to indicate that she is a bit possessive/jealous of her friends when they talk to other friends. Hopefully, with enough conversation about how she feels, this will improve but for now, this may just be one of those things that she'll have to walk through to get to the other side. And hopefully, it will make her a more compassionate person the next time she sees someone standing on the outside, looking in.

Runaway Jury

The gloves are still off, from time to time, with Daughter #1. This past week, I hauled the squirrels down to Susan and Shannon's for some fun times at the Ranch. Susan was a champion aunt, hauling them to Bonkers, Steak and Shake, YMCA, etc. The squirrels absolutely ran amok with Abers, Hattie Rabbit, and Bena with barely a moment to catch their breath.

All the late nights and max velocity caught up with them on the way home again. They were fighting like everything in the back seat until I finally told them they were not allowed to LOOK at each other, TALK to each other, or TOUCH each other until we got home (we had about 30 minutes to go). S has the irresistible urge to always have the last word, which has resulted in more discipline in six months than most kids have in 20 years.

The urge struck again, and she would not stop sassing. I pulled over the car and gave her my best lecture and then pulled back on the road again. She started howling and sassing that she HATED living with me and THAT'S why she wrote that mean note (See "Hate Mail") and that living at our house was not fun (etc. etc. etc). I didn't say another word, I just kept on driving.

I reached the end of our lane, stopped the car, opened S's door, and told her to get out of the car. She looked a bit frightened but still defiant. I told her if she didn't want to live with me, that was her choice and then pointed to several neighboring houses. I told her she was welcome to go knock on anyone else's door and see if they would let her live with them. I told her, however, that if she wanted to live with us still, she would need to make that decision by walking up the driveway (it's a 1/2 mile long...figured it would provide some good thinking time). I told her I loved her very much, and that I hoped she would choose to still live with us, but that by living with us, it meant she followed the Rules of the House.

I then got back into the car and started slowly going down to driveway in front of her. She looked incredulous that I would ACTUALLY drive away! I saw her glance at other houses, kick a few rocks, turn back around to look at another house, then she started marching down the driveway, blubbering and shouting at the same time.

Husband was on his lawn tractor leveling driveway rocks (he had a pass to stay home and work on the driveway while I took the girls to the Ranch so was probably blissfully rested by that point and able to hear himself think). He sees my car pull through, then sees a tiny figure behind it and can see her lips moving but can't hear what she's saying yet. He had to wonder what hornet's nest had just landed back at the mother ship.

Thirty minutes later, S came into the house, kicked her shoes off, howled once last time, then flopped on the bed. I came into her room and hugged her for all she's worth and told her I was so glad she had come back home.

I'm sure this is probably a dastardly way to parent in some expert's book but for what it's worth, it worked. She hasn't told us she wants to live elsewhere again. Some things just aren't covered in every episode of "Supernanny" so I'm doing the best I can here;-)

It's OFFICIAL!

Just a quick note that we FINALLY have the green light to proceed with the adoption of S & K. The process takes 4-5 months with lots of paperwork but hopefully before school starts next fall, they will be official members of our crazy household.

S will become Elisabeth "Lis" Jane and K will become Katherine "Kate" Elisabeth. Actually, K wanted to be called Elisabeth, too, and after many attempts to explain to her that she could not have the same new name as her sister, she finally agreed to have Elisabeth as her MIDDLE name (sigh)! We let them pick their new names (within reason) based on names that have significance in our family. Of course, they thought this was great fun and every once in a while, would come home with a new choice (Carlee? Senaca?). I warned them that if they kept changing their minds, I would name them Penelope Rump Savage and Princess Consuela Banana Hammock ("Friends" episode, anyone?)

Will keep you posted on our march towards freedom, er, adoption;-)

Hate Mail

Tonight I was cleaning up after a rather trying evening with Daughter #1 when I stumbled upon a note she had written that said, "I hate mom". Wow. A mixture of emotion flooded through me along with a well-thought out list of reasons WHY she should kiss the ground I walk on. Doesn't she remember who helped her with her transportation project for school? Doesn't she remember who patiently washes, conditions, presses and moisturizes her hair all the time? Doesn't she see that I am the one who feeds her, does her laundry, cleans, etc. etc. etc?

Nope. She was mad about getting a time out for throwing a fit as we were getting ready to leave Grandpa and Grandma F's house. Since time outs in her room have led to her reading, playing, etc. instead of contemplating her poor choice of behavior, we have started having her face a wall or corner for the time out so she can concentrate on THINKING. She hates it, which means it works! But hence, since I was the one who administered the time out, she hates me!

Not really hates...I get that. I'm sure in a burst of teenage angst, I "hated" my mom as well. Don't remember if I ever said it but I'm sure I thought it. So I know enough not to get completely bent out of shape or to dissolve in anguish. Instead, I brought the note to her and said, "We are going to talk about this." I asked her why she wrote the note. She claimed she didn't know why but upon further pressing, said it was because "sometimes you can be a...little bit...mean".

We talked about why I am "mean" (i.e. give her time outs or take away a privilege) and she admitted it was when she wasn't following the rules or when she was pouting and whining. We talked about how she is in control of whether or not she misbehaves and if she chooses the behavior, she is choosing the consequences. I told her it was okay to be mad and angry but it was NOT okay to hate me. After reminding her of all the nice things I do for her, her little head hung down and she started to rip up the note. Then, in one large exhalation, she leaned into me and wept her eyes out.

I came back from picking up the babysitter about a half hour later and she had a new note for me. It said, "I love mom". I think I'll keep that one instead.

Soccer Moms, Mini-Vans and Fanny Packs

S started soccer this week so I guess that official makes me one of those dreaded soccer moms. My friends have ever-so-kindly offered to send me a soccer decal for my car. Speaking of which, I can't believe I have sunk to this level but I am actually looking at minivans. What's next, a fanny pack? Someone please help me. The last shreds of coolness are fleeing from me! (gulp)

S has taken to sports like a fish to water. She already came with that natural "black swagger" to her walk and rhythm to boot. We are hoping that soccer will wear her out so she will sleep in longer than 5:50 AM in the morning (no, putting her to bed later doesn't help).

It brings me back to my sports attempts. I went to a school were jocks were "IT" and I spent a lot of junior high trying to be "IT". Only when you go out for sports and aren't so hot at them, it's even worse than not going out at all.

Case in point was my attempts at junior high volleyball. There were so many girls that went out that there were five (count em, five) teams. At 5'9" since about the fifth grade, you think volleyball, particularly front row, would be my thing. The coaches eyed my height with relish...until they saw my try to play. I was put on the fifth team with the kids from special ed (I am not making this up).

I talked my sister Susan into coming to a game of mine. I had worked hard on learning to overhand serve but with my wasted worms for arms, I had very little upper body strength. I couldn't even do a pull-up so to get a volleyball hit with enough strength to go over the net, I had invented this convoluted side-step maneuver followed by swinging my arm around with all my strength to hit the ball.

Only, as Murphy's Law would have it, on the ONLY game that anyone every came to for me (go Susan), I ended up tripping over my own feet during a serve and falling flat on my front. Susan slunk down in her seat while the ref had to call a time-out so she (the ref) could quit laughing. I looked over at the bench and my teammates were doubled over, as well.

That's the day I decided to embrace my drama/band/vocal/FFA nerdiness and do something I actually enjoyed and was halfway good at doing. I'm hoping S has a different experience but if she doesn't, at least I can say "been there, done that" to her and we'll go wail away on guitars;-)