Holy Smokes! I'm Marilla Cuthbert!

I don't know wether to feel angry or relived, but mostly I feel ashamed.

Remember the Nintendo 3DS consoles the boys got from their grandparents? Remember how I posted that they took them to school without my permission and had them stolen? Remember how only First Son even fessed up to it? Remember how Anne of Green Gables confessed to having taken Marilla's broach and dropped it into the water, and how she only confessed so that Marilla would let her go to the picnic?

Need I go on?

I am going to go on. Not because I'm particularly proud of myself, but so that you, Dear Reader, will know that I always write the truth on here. I am not out to make myself look like some superhuman supermom. I won't hide the bad stuff.

The kids and I have been cleaning house and purging like crazy lately, tossing some things in the recycling and putting others aside for the garage sale next weekend. We have been digging right down to the bottoms of the closets, reaching to the darkest back ends of all our drawers. In our front hall closet - way in back and off to the side where it's hard to get at from the ridiculously small closet door opening -  was our old recycling box, the little green one that we used before the big blue bins were distributed by the city. There were a whole bunch of things in there, from my winter boots to outside toys like old badminton rackets and hai-lai bats... and First Son's black Nintendo 3DS, complete with its orange Diego protective sleeve! Ho-ly Smokes! This after he confessed to having lost it at school!

I am not ignoring the fact that Second Son's Nintendo had also been thought to be lost. That one being blue, I found a replacement on kijiji and bought it, only to later find the original at home. We ended up selling the replacement for the same price as we had bought it for. Ironically, I just found a black one to replace the one First Son lost, and I had already set up a pick-up time to go get it. Needless to say, I cancelled that.

I asked First Son why he had said that his had been stolen at school, and in the teeniest, tiniest voice imaginable, he said, "I didn't know what else to say when you kept asking where it was." Have you ever felt like a bad parent? Well, I know how it feels.

I felt so bad for First Son. I feel like I pressured him into confessing. I had to apologize to him big time.

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So ends the weird tale of two Nintendo 3DS consoles that were received, lost, replaced, unlost, almost replaced again, and found. Again.

Lesson learned? Yep. No more jumping through hoops to try to right all wrongs. The Nintendos were lost. I should have left well enough alone. We found them both in the end. They were here in the apartment all along. I could have saved myself a ton of trouble.

I'm Sure I Could Have Handled This Better

This past Saturday, Daughter was invited to her friend's house. Friend and her mother picked her up at 11:45 and she was to call me when she was ready to come home. She called me at around 6pm, when I was at the park with the boys.

"I've been invited to sleep over."

Not good. I haven't seen you all day and I was hoping you would at least be home with us for the evening.


"Oh. that's nice."

"But I don't want to so can you tell them that you are taking me shopping in the morning so I have to sleep at home?"

"No good. Tomorrow is Sunday and the shops only open at ten at the earliest. Some at eleven and some at noon. You could still sleep there and come shopping later in the day. Tell them I wanted to go to the movies with you, so you have to be home in time."

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*TIME OUT* This is where it all went wrong...

What ever happened to Honesty Is The Best Policy? I should have told Daughter that and told her to politely decline the invitation, saying that she wanted to sleep at home. THAT would have been good parenting. But no! I have been so desperate for Daughter to act like she wanted to spend any time with me at home, that I jumped right into her game. Bad idea.
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A few minutes later, Daughter phoned me again.

"They want to come too."

I let out a laugh. Figures.


"Well, we'll just have to go to the movies then. I'll call the sitter and see if she is available. Tell them I'm at the park right now and I forgot what time the movie is. Call me around eight and I'll confirm."

:/ Smart. Bad mother! VERY BAD MOTHER!


"Can't you tell them you made a mistake and it's not tonight?"

"Do you want to sleep there?"

Silence.

"Call me at eight."

When I hung up with her, I called up our babysitter because I knew that my sister was working and I didn't want to spring this on my brother last-minute. He's got his own life to live. Fortunately (!?!) the sitter was available for that night, so I told her I would call her back to confirm the time. Then I let the boys play soccer for a little while longer and finally we headed home. There, I saw that we could make the 9:30 pm movie, which would be okay since the boys should be in bed by then. So I called the sitter back to confirm and called Daughter back to let her know what the plan was.

Then, I had to tell the boys that I would be going to a movie with Daughter and that they would be staying home with our babysitter because the movie was not meant for young children their age.

"But I will take you to see The Lorax tomorrow to make up for it."

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That, right there was another mistake.  Why did I feel the need to justify going to the movies with Daughter? I did lots of things with the boys that she doesn't come along... So now I had two movies to pay, instead of one. Smart. Very smart. No wonder my credit card companies love me.
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In the end, the sitter came to our house for ten to nine (35 bucks by the end of the night) and I picked daughter up at her friend's house because Friend and her mother decided they were too tired and weren't going to tag along after all. At this point, I could have just gone home and saved on the movie admission and babysitting fees. But, truth be told, I had talked about going to the movies with Daughter to see The Hunger Games. She had been agreeable, although I told her that it might be too violent and I wasn't sure how she would feel about that. She pointed out that it was just fiction, whereas she knew all about violence from watching 9/11 movies like Flight 93. So in the end, we went to the movies anyway.

The film started at 9:55 so we had some time to sit around at the cinema and, having read The Hunger Games, I told her what the story would be about so she could understand everything. She ended up enjoying the film and so it turned out to be a nice night out for the two of us. Daughter actually talked to me, which was fantastic. In the car on the way home, I did have a little talk with her about how, although tonight had been okay because we had planned for a while to see the film anyway, she would have to start being honest with her friend because if she had an excuse every time it would eventually become obvious that she was just avoiding sleeping at her house. At the same time, I felt bad for her because she said that it wasn't comfortable sleeping in her friend's small bed. (which I think she could easily tell her friend. It's understandable.) She also said that her friend's parents fight in front of her, and they speak in their own language but she sometimes hears her name so she doesn't know what they are saying about her. This is a more delicate situation and I feel for Daughter, having to live with it. I am surprised that she is always so willing to go over there to play. They are good friends, I guess that makes up for it.

So, lesson learned? I don't know. The situation isn't black and white. If daughter gets invited again, am I going to jump through hoops for her and try to get her out of the situation or am I just going to tell her to be honest and take care of it herself? I don't know. I just don't know. On the one hand, it would be acceptable for her to say that she prefers sleeping at home, especially since she had invited Friend to sleep at our house before, but Friend's mother explained to me that she had never slept away from home before and she was nervous about it. It's too bad, because daughter has two places to sleep in her room so they would both be comfortable on their own mattresses.

On the other hand, I do want to protect her from an uncomfortable situation, especially given that the atmosphere might be pretty tense at Friend's house if her parents are always arguing. Plus, I admit, I am so desperate for Daughter's acceptance that I am willing to lie for her. I know it's not good parenting, but sometimes my insecurities win out. Most of the time, Daughter spends all her energy expressing to me how she really would rather be living with her dad and that she wants nothing to do with me. So when situations arise where I get the feeling that "We're in this together." I jump at the opportunity to do something for her. It's complicated, but at the moment it makes sense to me.

Bowling... For Pleasure?

The children have been asking me to go bowling for some time. Today, I finally took them to the bowling alley. I was looking forward to it because... well, because they were! :o)  I thought this would be a fun family activity. Well, it kind of was, but we really had to work at it.

I think the thing to remember when we plan a fun activity that everyone can enjoy is that if the kids are looking forward to it, they probably have visions of glory in their heads already. Those thought bubbles tend to pop with the first gutter ball.

Let me start by saying that paying forty dollars for shoe rentals and two games seemed really expensive to me. I had to put it on credit and I admit I felt a cold shudder when paying, as if my credit card company were standing right behind me with shiny eyes like Count Olaf, rubbing his greedy hands together at the thought of all the interest I will have to pay. But the kids were happy, so I shrugged the feeling off.

As soon as we put our bowling shoes on, the lane was ready for practice. The boys spun their balls down the lane, not even waiting for the machine to reset the pins. They had some small successes and many gutter balls, but they never even saw this because as soon as the ball left their hands they spun around to grab another one, not even checking to see what they may have knocked down.

Next, the fun began.

We played in order, from youngest to oldest. Second Son was doing pretty well. He would stand at the end of the lane with his feet set wide apart and, holding the ball with both hands, he bent over, swung the ball between his legs and released it as it came back toward the pins. After the release, he would more often than not find himself spread-eagle on his stomach, watching from ground level as his ball veered dangerously close to the gutter, but luckily managed to stay in the lane and knock down two or three pins as a result.

First Son, who had gone bowling during Spring Break with his day camp, was full of confidence, advice for his little brother, stories about how he had been the best bowler in his whole camp, but pretty much threw one gutter ball after the other. The bragging didn't last long. He started throwing his ball any old way and stomping back to his chair in an angry huff. No fun. For any of us.

Daughter was having an average game, although she also mentioned that last time, when she had gone bowling with her class, she had bowled much better than this. She's a big girl, though, so she tackled each turn as it came, trying to improve her score. I did pretty well once I got into it. I even got a couple of strikes. But first Son wasn't enjoying himself. What's more, he was dampening everyone else's mood. Something had to be done.

Since my score was pretty high, I asked First Son if he wanted to play for me when it was my turn. I figured it would be better to let him have a bad throw and see that it didn't upset me than for me to throw gutter balls intentionally. Then, when it was his turn, and he got a gutter ball again, I offered to roll his second ball. Pretty soon, everyone was playing for everyone else, and forgetting about the score. When someone got a gutter ball, I reassured them that the first game was just for practice. They would surely do better in the second.

By the time the second game rolled around, the kids were in a good mood and thankfully enjoyed bowling. Then they asked if they could try with the big balls. (We had been playing 10-pin with the smaller ones.) Unfortunately, the woman at the counter said that Second Son was too small, she wouldn't let him play. That was a disappointment for him, and also for the other two, who I wouldn't let play without him. 

There were also pool tables at the bowling alley, so we decided to play a game of pool instead. The boys were very enthusiastic because they like to play pool on a small recreational table at after-school care and they also have a small table-top pool table at home. These tables were full size, that is to say HUGE. Well, it didn't take long for the boys to realize that playing on a table this size was more difficult. Suddenly, the bad moods returned. They were angry when they missed a ball, wanted to try again, argued, complained and basically took the fun out of the game. Not to mention that I was pretty ashamed of my young'uns because of their behavior. Daughter was pretty good at pool, but she decided to stop playing to leave more balls on the table for the boys, who didn't even appreciate it. They complained that the cues were too heavy, the table too high, etc. etc. So when we finished the game, we didn't pay for a second one, but came home instead.

In the car, I was thinking, "Never again." I was hung up on the money it had cost, which I regretted spending since the boys didn't enjoy themselves as much as they should have. I was also thinking, "When did they grow to be such sore sports?" It didn't use to matter what the result was, we had fun whatever we played. Baseball could have been frustrating when they couldn't hit the ball, but it wasn't. We just laughed about it and encouraged each other to keep trying. Basketball could have been no fun because the nets were too high for the boys, but it wasn't. We just celebrated all the more when one of us miraculously got a basket on a lucky shot. So what gives with bowling?

The only other activity that I have to tell the boys to stop because they aren't enjoying it is computer games. If they don't win those games, they start hitting the keys and the mouse harder and harder, grumbling at the computer and eventually shouting, at which time I have to step in because they obviously aren't having fun. That, of course, makes me the bad guy. I don't know if it is the computer games that have gotten the boys into this habit of totally not enjoying themselves when they are not winning, or if it's something else in their environment. Perhaps it's genetics? I used to think of myself as a patient person, but I have to admit that as the children started school and learned bad words and bad behavior, even I have a shorter fuse when they start to misbehave.

I don't know what is at the root of the problem, but I am disappointed about this afternoon's outing. If the kids ever ask me to go bowling again, I hope that I remember what happened today. That doesn't mean that I will flat out refuse to take them, but it would be nice to think of discussing good sportsmanship and the fact that the main idea is to have FUN, and this discussion has to take place before we get to the bowling alley, not during our first game. If I can remember to bring this up with the kids, and if we end up having a better time next time, then at least I can say that something good has come out of what happened today. There is something to be said for the Live And Learn concept. I am going to try to be like Anne Shirley, and never make the same mistake twice.

Juggling is Much Easier If the Balls Bounce Themselves

I am a juggler in the figurative sense. I have three kids. I try to juggle my time so that they each get what they need from me. Being a single mom, I won't pretend that I am good at it, or that all three of my  children are super well balanced. It does seem that whenever there is an issue with one of them, just as I think I have things under control, something happens with a sibling and of course I don't want any of them to fall on the floor so I find myself scrambling again. Tonight was an exception.

This week is March Break for the kids. The boys both begged me over a month ago to sign them up for a certain day camp, which I was only happy to do because it coincidentally was one of the cheaper ones at only ten dollars a day. They were really looking forward to going and I am happy to report that they had a great day. I stayed at home with my eleven-year-old daughter so we could have some time alone without the boys demanding my attention. (Usually the demand comes in the form of a fight between them and I end up wondering if I should just let them go at it and settle things once and for all, but of course good judgement prevails and I have to separate them and then we talk about it. Hopefully. Sometimes the boys refuse to talk, and especially to hear, so the discussion is better left for later.) Back to today: we had a pretty simple day that just flew by. We went to the library, did groceries, made meatballs... I think our major achievement was cleaning Daughter's desk out. There were workbooks in there from grade two!

At four o'clock we went to get the boys from daycamp. My second son, who is six, has a history of not adjusting too well to changes, so I was especially interested in how his day went and how he felt. Luckily, he is bigger now (older and wiser than last summer and especially the summer before, when he was sent home for fighting) and he had a great day. I did give him a lot of attention, though, just to be 100% sure nothing bad happened, like someone wouldn't leave him alone and he hit them or something. (It has been known to happen...) Daughter was okay with me asking Second Son about his day and when we got home she disappeared to her room for a little alone time... with her computer... that's a whole other can of worms...

So we had a nice evening. Daughter went upstairs, I took Second Son outside to play. First Son was forbidden to come because he refused to put snow-pants on. Supper went pretty well. We were all at the table which is a definite victory. Then we played some Rush Hour with the boys and they showered and went to bed.

So I was in bed reading before going to sleep and who should be standing beside my bed but Second Son, saying he can't sleep and asking if he can sit with me a while and tell me about his day. He was very smooth in expressing this, by the way. I was thoroughly impressed. So of course I said yes and he proceeded to sit on my bed cross-legged and tell me about his day. Every detail of his day, with especial attention being paid to how the soccer ball bounced when he kicked it so that it somehow finally found its way into the goal and how everyone wanted him on his team because he is the best. :D I permit myself a small chuckle here because of course I had to keep a straight face and look impressed during this. First Son has VERY GOOD self-esteem. :o)

So the lesson I learned today, and this time it thankfully wasn't a painful one, (and I can't believe it took me six paragraphs to get to this point!) is that just when you lean back and think everything is just peachy and you deserve a little something, THAT is when you should first take a moment and think WHY everything seems peachy and THEN make sure that the jam is spread evenly among however many children you may have. 'Cause I thought I had a pretty good day with Daughter and I was relieved that Second Son seemed to settle well into daycamp for the week, but poor (patient!) First Son waited and waited for me to ask him about his day and when he realized I was showing off juggling with only two balls, he took the initiative and quickly threw himself into the routine before I left the stage. So remember, parents: Vigilance! Constant vigilance! (Watch yourselves!)

Sarcasm (a.k.a. I Am an Imperfect Being)

Yesterday while driving around doing errands, I was pretty excited about this blog. It occurred to me that it could be a good platform to do some good in the world. I consider myself a generous person, and lately I have been frustrated not to be able to help in certain circumstances, as I have no money, no time, no energy. Rosy little post this is turning out to be... So, getting back on track: today I want to share an eye-opening experience that has hopefully made me a better person and parent. Perhaps someone else could also profit from my mistakes.

First Son, my eight year-old, has been having trouble at school. He has brought home two reprimands in the last two weeks. Not good. This past Monday, the note said that he didn't listen and that he talked back.  As we talked about what happened, he explained: they were in line and the gym teacher's rule is no talking. First Son's friend in front of him, J., was talking to him, and he apparently asked him not to do so. (I am taking First Son's word on this. I could see it being the case.) So, as he is asking J. not to talk to him, the gym teacher reminds him, "Hey, no talking," to which First Son replies, "I know." As he is relating this to me, the "I know" comes out quite sarcastically, accompanied by a rolling of the eyes. Mystery solved. Not as in, that's why he got the reprimand, but as in, "Ooops! This is the kind of model I am!"

I will be the first to admit that I have been feeling very tense lately and I have a very short fuse. Add to that three kids who, at the end of the day, are unable to get up from the supper table to get their own milk, and sarcasm rears its ugly head. This is exactly what happened with First Son. At supper last week, I heard the words, "Mom, milk." I didn't reply as I was extremely insulted by the request and the way in which it was made. Not getting the message, First son repeated his request, and when he still got no reaction, he said, "Mom, I would like some milk," to which I replied, "Really? Me too." *insert rolleyes here* I then calmly explained to him that I was not a dog who was going to fetch him things, and that I was as tired as he was, could he please get his own milk, or at least ask nicely? But the damage was done.

When First Son was telling me about why he got the reprimand, I could see myself mirrored in the way he was talking. So I pulled out my humility card and apologized to him for being so sarcastic with him lately, and we had a talk about how he had spoken to his gym teacher. Having gotten some things clear, I still would not let him off the hook for the consequence to his actions at school. Even though I feel partly responsible, ultimately First Son must understand that he should be respectful to someone when talking to them. So he did get punished. Nobody said life was fair.

The moral of this story is that we really do have to watch how we act with and around our children. I think I have cleared things up with First Son, but I still wonder how deeply this sarcasm is embedded in his personality now. And can I keep to my promise not to be so cross and sarcastic? I really hope so! I mean, nothing has changed in my situation and I am as tired and grumpy as ever, but now that I am (painfully) aware of the consequences of my own behavior, hopefully I can keep an eye on myself. We'll see...