How My Sons Spent Yesterday

We stopped by the video store the other day.  This is a BIG treat for my kids.  Usually we request movies from the library.  Hello, the library is free.  The video store requires money.  Anyway, we went retro and  checked out rented "Short Circuit."  I loved it as a kid.  Hoped the boys would love it, too.

I, uh, forgot about the low-level cursing.  Lots of "shits," "damns," "hells," and a "son-of-a-bitch."  Gads, today it would be a PG-13.  Oh, well.  The boys love it.  What do they love?  They love the nerdiness of #5.  Oh, my sweet boys.  How well I know thee.

~ G

Sometimes I'm a Genius

I have a daughter. She is three. She has hair.  Yes, I know you're shocked.  My daughter does not like having her hair washed.  A couple weeks ago she was taking a bath (I was with her, monitoring, per this commitment) and I just dreaded the coming screaming/flailing/pouting/crying/I-don't-want-my-hair-washed event.  Hey, I'm a mom, not superwoman.  Although, you should see me in my skivvies and invisible plane.

She was playing with her rubber ducky and it dawned on me.  What if she washed Ducky's flat, bald, little rubber head hair while I washed her hair?  She could hold him in her lap and while her head was bowed over, focused on washing Ducky, I could wash and condition her hair.  I proposed the idea and she bought into it, lock, stock and rubber ducky.  Yippee!  I'm a genius!  But, before we toast a non-sippy-cupped adult beverage, the real question with a toddler-cum-preschooler is will the genius idea stick?

Yes.  This one did.  Tonight, I sat in the hall reading my free OK magazine brain candy and monitored her bath.  From that position in the hall, I can see her in the tub and hear the boys and also yell at the boys from a acoustically-friendly position.  Near the end of the bath, she ASKED me to wash her hair.  She collected Ducky, asked for shampoo and within a few minutes of non-screaming/flailing, my sweet Little One smelled sweet.

Sometimes I'm a genius.  Now, I'm going to savor the moment until I foul up again.  Sometimes I'm a genius.  The end.

~ G

Tips and Tricks for Domestic Sanity - Cabinets, Pt. 2

Here's how I was able to keep some semblance of normalcy while on bed rest with Little One.  Because I wrote out the boys' schedule, what they would eat, when they napped and played and all the little details about their lives, I could relax a little and let my mom take over.  When my neighbor had time and could come over and help, all she had to do was come in, look at the clock, then open my cabinet door to see what the kids were doing next.  Darling didn't have to ask how I did the laundry or where we kept the extra detergent.

If you are on bed rest or if you have a very helpful MIL or a mom who wants to help with your little ones or if you have the opportunity to leave for the weekend while your husband keeps the kids, I strongly encourage you to write out what someone would need to know to do your job as a SAHM.

The boys' daily schedule, with recipes above.  This list is still up for two reasons: One, it helps me when my brain fails and I need to remember what on earth we do after lunch.  Two, I'm a sentimental fool and can't bear to take it down until I know how I want to store/preserve it.  

"If boys are busy and happy and you need a diversion..."  This is my "how to help me around the house" list.

All the emergency info.

~ G

Psychobabble on the Boy/Girl Thing

I've figured out part of what bothers me about the whole "it's a boy thing" or "girls do this" or "boys don't do that" nonsense.  It's the underlying message that if you're a girl and you like to do a "boy thing," like ride a skateboard or listen to loud heavy metal music, you must not be a "real" girl.  It's the underlying message that if you're a boy and cry or carry a favorite stuffed animal and you're told that it's a "girl thing," then you're not a "real" boy.

Most people who spout off about gender generalities don't necessarily intend to push a message that someone's Pinocchio.  But it's annoying.  And it hurts me.  Which is silly.  But it does.

I think it hurts me because when we were expecting Middle One and found out he was a boy, I was crushed.  How terrible is that?  I was crushed.  Cried for four days.  We were sure he would be our last one (dumbasses how naive were we?) and I so wanted a girl.  I wanted a girl because I was sure my boys wouldn't want to do the things that I liked to do: cook, bake, garden, make stuff, read, be interested in our genealogy, etc.  

It took months for me to get a grip and recognize men can do all those things.  Just because my house was dominated by guys didn't mean my boys wouldn't or couldn't learn to cook and bake and garden and make stuff and share books with me and be interested in our family history.  It just meant I had to get over myself and teach them the things that matter to me.

So it's a very soft spot for me.  Turns out when Middle One was born, I fell so deeply in love with him that thinking back to my first reaction astonishes me.  I adore him.  And he loves to cook.  And his older brother loves to bake.  Ironically, I completely mostly got over my desire to have a girl and wanted to have another baby - bring on another boy!  Three pregnancies later, we had a healthy baby - who happened to be a girl.  

But the "boy/girl thing" is still a soft spot.  So, chances are, if you meet me at the park and make some dumbass crack comment about something being a boy or girl thing, I will most likely turn myself inside out to prove you wrong.  And that's my psychobabble quota for the year month week now.

~ G

How Do You Make a Man?

It's a hot topic. I've only been in the mom game for about a decade, but there is something that annoys the tar out of me. It's my biggest pet peeve and it's that most annoying of statements: "It's a boy thing." Following as a close second in the pet peeve category: "It's a girl thing." I hate that. Now if we're talking penises and vaginas then yes, it's a boy or a girl thing. The past few days, stupid parental statements and actions have torqued my jaw.

I tend to get more bent out of shape when things seem forbidden to boys or when boys get mocked for doing things that are "for girls." Our society seems much more open to girls experimenting with different activities. If a girl tries something, we call her "adventurous" and we don't want to pigeon-hole her. Boys still don't get that freedom. There lies an unspoken concern among (some) mothers and (more) fathers that if their sons play with certain toys or participate in certain games their manhood might shrivel.

Lately, I've heard that boys shouldn't:

- play in a pink Little Tikes house. Men don't live in houses with pink bricks? Men can only live in camo-covered bunkers? Please. Half the houses in my neighborhood have bricks with pink specks in them and I have yet to see a husband wandering around in his driveway afraid to go inside to his wife and kids because walking into a pink-bricked house might make him less of a man.

- play with a plastic kitchen set. Men don't cook? Does Bobby Flay look gay to you? Do Mario Batali, Anthony Bourdain, and Alton Brown look feeble to you? Besides, who wouldn't want her man to make her a delicious dinner?

- play with dolls. Men can't cuddle their babies? This, freakazoid mothers and fathers of the the world, is why we have men who claim they don't know how to care for babies. Men can nurture just as effectively as women. (Yes, men can nurture effectively - differently than women, but effectively.) Who hasn't melted at the sight of her husband caring for their baby? Little boys can't cuddle a doll and pretend to be Daddy? Don't we need loving, nurturing men?

- play with stuffed animals. Men shouldn't have strong emotional quotients? I'm busy being indignant right now and don't feel like looking it up, but I have read studies that show that kids who play with stuffed animals tend to have stronger skills in negotiating their emotions and therefore adapt better to changes in their environment. Why do you think firefighters and hospitals ask for donated stuffed animals to give to traumatized children?

- play dress-up. Men can't pretend? If your daughter can dress up like a Jedi or an Army hero to save the family from certain doom, your son can't put on fairy wings and pretend to drop fairy dust on his toys to make them fly? First of all, men make some fine actors. Think about Clint Eastwood for just a moment. Men dress in tights to wrestle and no one calls Hulk Hogan gay. And did you see The Rock wearing tights in Tooth Fairy? Oh my, but I digress... Putting on wings or tights or dancing around in his mom's heels won't damage his masculinity any more than your daughter heading a soccer ball will damage her femininity. Speaking of tights brings us to another thing boys don't do:

- dance. Men don't dance? Patrick Swayze made more than a few women swoon. Mikhail Baryshnikov wore tights and danced and no one doubted that he lacked manhood. NFL Hall of Famer Lynn Swann made an amazing receiver and also danced ballet. I know this because he appeared on Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. I'd love to take a turn around the dance floor with my rhythm-free husband. Sigh.

...and the big one...

- cry. "Boys don't cry." So... by that logic they aren't boys if they cry? I know parents who tell their five year-old son to stop crying because "boys don't cry." Nice. What happened to loving your child as he is? Eventually, kids outgrow crying about everything. And if they don't, their friends will tease them and that will be all the motivation needed to not cry in public. Sure, I understand the argument that by telling them not to cry you're saving them from humiliation. By the same token, aren't you telling them they need to hide their emotions, even from you? Aren't you inadvertently teaching them they can't be truthful with their parents?

I don't want to be the mom who doesn't get to hear her son's sorrows because he knows from experience not to show me his sad emotions. That said, in our house our kids do not get to carry on crying for ages in the common rooms. If they need to cry continuously, they are welcome to let it all out - in their rooms. But I most certainly don't tell them "boys don't cry." Not only do I want my sons to talk to me and tell me what happens in their lives, I want them to talk to their future, respective wives and not shut them out with their moody, brooding nonsense because they lack the emotional tools to communicate.

Likewise, I don't want my husband falling apart in tears at the office because he didn't get the big promotion. I also don't want my husband drinking himself into a stupor or driving like an angry ass because he can't communicate his emotions. I want him to talk to me and effectively share how he feels. If I want that from my husband, don't I want that for my sons? Don't I owe them the training to know how to handle themselves and not just learn to stuff down the blues? Won't that help them grow into better men?

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we force our sons to achieve early manhood.

Wow. I feel better having gotten that off my chest. By no means am I saying I'm a perfect mom. I'm not. I'm a mess. But, I have a hunch that making men out of my boys has less to do with me removing influences and making them "buck up" into something they aren't ready to be and more to do with me loving them where they are and keeping an eye on where we're going. I'm just sayin'.

Want more of my thoughts on being a mom of boys? Read this.

A Thought for Mothers of Boys

So last night I was talking to my sister-in-law. Yes, this is the sister-in-law of caramel popcorn fame. (Check out the recipe here.) I digress. Last night I was telling her a story about a baby who had gotten poop all over her crib, herself, her walls - everything. We were laughing about babies and messes and I said, "you know you'd have to be the one to clean it." She said, "no, actually, your brother would do it all if he were the one to find the mess."

What?

You're pausing, aren't you? Would your husband clean it up? Stop laughing! Yeah. Mine, either. Gets your goat a little, doesn't it? Surely she's exaggerating, right?

When my brother and sister-in-law became parents, I assumed my brother would be as domestically useless as my husband - and all the other husbands I know. Granted, my husband will take care of it if I'm not home. He won't call and expect me to return just to clean up a mess or rescue him from crying babies, but that is not the case if I'm in the house. He'll come report the mess. If I have the flu, running a high fever, and a kid is sick, he'll expect me to get up and tend to the sick kid - even if he's fine. I'd have to be literally dying for my husband to stay home from work to give me a sick day. Your husband, too? Thought so.

I digress again. When my brother and sister-in-law became parents, I assumed he'd be like my husband and every other father I know - loving and kind, but not inclined to do any real domestic work. Seems my brother isn't like the other dads out there. Seems he'll clean a mess. Seems he'll take care of the kids and let his wife sleep when she's overtired or sick. Seems he assumes that since he's a parent, it's also his responsibility to do laundry, clean, care for the kids, etc. Now, I'm not saying my brother's a saint (ahahahahahahaha - don't make me laugh.) What I am saying is that after my conversation last night, it finally dawned on me that instead of being incredulous that he's doing a fair amount of work, maybe my brother is different.

So I started thinking about my other brother. Turns out he also does laundry. Cleans. Cooks. Takes the kiddo to the doctor. Cares for the sick kiddo and cleans messes when he finds them. There has to be a common link. Turns out... it's my mom.

...and I can say this because I grew up in the same house. My mom expected more from her sons than any other mother I ever met. While I was outside learning how to change the car's oil and rotate tires with my father, the boys were in the house with my mom learning how to clean and do the domestic stuff. That was common in our house. For years, I only remembered my dad saying, "there won't always be a man around to take care of you." What I failed to think about was mom inside saying, "there won't always be a woman around to take care of you." The proof is in the pudding. It worked. Neither of my brothers expect their wives to do the bulk of the domestic and childcare work.

So I say this to mothers of boys: Expect more from your boys. Teach your sons to do their laundry. Teach them to cook. Teach them to clean. Expect them to pull their weight around the house. Teach them that they are part of the family team and they can get spots out of the carpet as well as mow the yard. Teach them how to take care of other members of the family. They need to be able to care for themselves by the time they leave the house for college. Someday they will be husbands and fathers. What you teach them will carry into their marriages and parenting. Do it for your future daughters-in-law.

Not convinced? Think about all the times you got out of bed to clean up after a sick kid while your husband pretended to sleep. Think about all the times you were sick and your husband acted like he was dying when he got a sniffle and took to his bed - while you hauled your 103-fevered self around the house to care for the feverish kids. Think about the times the baby cried and your husband handed her to you because he didn't know what to do. Think about all the things you do because your husband either doesn't know how to do them or doesn't think it's his job. Wouldn't it be nice if someone had taught him?

Exactly.