Volunteering

Yesterday's post has got me thinking about volunteering. I have always wanted to volunteer. It is a part of my value system to want to give. There are so many ways to volunteer, you just have to have time to give and you could choose almost anything.

My first such experience was in high school, when I started to volunteer at Long Lake Animal Hospital in Tampa, FL. At the time, I still harbored dreams of becoming a veterinarian, so this was the perfect opportunity to gain some valuable knowledge and experience. I had a super time. At first, I just followed the veterinarian, Dr. Hong, around as he performed his daily duties. My first actual contribution was to disinfect the exam table after each client. Quickly, I assumed the role of receptionist, going out to greet clients as they arrived and telling them it wouldn't be long and wouldn't they take a seat? I liked to do this. It went well with my smiling personality and I was happy to be useful, since Dr. Hong didn't have to interrupt his work whenever the bell announced someone at the door. When there was an especially busy Saturday, I would spend my time between the reception and the back room where I gave flea baths to cats, dogs and even to Baby the ferret. :o) Eventually, I learned to take stool samples and to check blood samples for parasites with the microscope.

In the end, I never did become a veterinarian because when I got to university, I realized that Physics and Chemistry at that level were not for me, not to mention Organic Chemistry! Since I liked both children and animals, I decided to become a teacher instead. Still, my experience at Long Lake Animal hospital taught me a very good work ethic. I learned to be punctual, professional, courteous and hard-working, all of which have stayed with me ever since.

When I got married and my husband, who moved to Canada from Hungary, needed to learn English so he could find a job, I looked into some volunteering opportunities for him. I thought that helping the Meals on Wheels program would be great for him. He likes history and I thought it would be interesting for him to meet and talk with elderly people. I was in for a big surprise. My husband was shocked that I would consider asking him to volunteer. He wasn't going to do any free work for anybody. The idea made him angry and he was really indignant that he wasn't going to do anything for free. He didn't even consider the benefit of being surrounded by English-speakers and how that would help him. He was too proud to volunteer and he wouldn't let me either. When I thought of something that I would like to do, he told me to ask to be paid for it, otherwise not to waste my time on it. 

'Nuff said about that.

When I left my husband in 2007, volunteering was still on my mind and a part of my values, but as a mother raising three children alone, I didn't have any time to give. Eventually, though, starting in 2008, my husband and I shared custody of the kids and that left me with every second week with nothing much to do at home. I wasn't used to being all alone. So what happened was that I started listening to my old cd's and tapes again. (Mostly cd's - I made the switch from lp's and tapes to cd's at that time - a leap ahead for me, technologically! lol When most people were already on to mp3's...) Next thing I knew, I became aware of more and more of my favorite bands touring and coming to the National Capital Region. I didn't really have money to be going to concerts left and right, despite the fact that I had a lot of time, and eventually it dawned on me that if I volunteered, I might get to see some of my favorite bands perform live for free. That is what lead me to volunteer for BluesFest.

I worked in the BluesFest Outdoor Blues Café in 2008 and 2009 and got to see all the shows for free between shifts. It was a pretty good experience, but I gave it up once I got the kids back after they spend a year in Hungary with their dad. Since then, I have been with them full-time and haven't had the time to give to BluesFest, but I'm not complaining. I'd much rather be with my kids, and BluesFest isn't the sort of festival where my kids can tag along with me on my volunteering shifts.

The Ottawa Folk Festival turned out to be a very good, family-oriented place for me to volunteer. I've been with them for three years now, this summer will be the fourth, and for the past two years the kids have come with me to the festival. I am really happy about this for several reasons: first, because they also get to benefit from hearing the shows. I'm not standing there alone singing along any more, my kids are by my side. It's great. Also, the kids know that I am volunteering (i.e. working for free), so this is a way for me to transmit my values to them. I am VERY happy about that. Thirdly, since the kids seem to enjoy the festival atmosphere and they also seem to think that the things I do as a volunteer are fun (I've been on the Visual Arts and EnviroDish crews), I hope that when they are old enough, they will choose to volunteer as well. That would be a proud day for me. (Like the day we all participated in the City of Gatineau's Spring Cleaning Event.)

In the meantime, I will continue to volunteer and to let the kids know about it. If nothing else, I will be a good role model for them. (Although I truly can't say "if nothing else", since I have reaped so many benefits from volunteering!)

I'm The Bad Guy

My sons, like most of the boys at their school, like to play with gogos. (Don't click the link, it's not worth it.) Gogos are another fad game like pokemon where the kids can play, win and exchange. Needless to say, they are banned at school because the big kids take advantage of the little ones.

I knew that First Son wasn't allowed to take gogos to school because his second-grade teacher had forbidden it. He keeps complaining that it's not fair because some kids take them to school anyway, but knowing that they aren't allowed, I don't let him take his.

About two weeks ago, Second Son had enough pocket money to buy himself a new pack, and the pack he bought had a gogo bag in it to keep all his gogos in. Without my knowing it, he took it to school and of course the teacher took it away from him. She said he knew that it was forbidden and as punishment, he wouldn't get them back before the last day of school.

Second Son didn't think it was fair and he came home saying how he detested his teacher and how he didn't even know that gogos weren't allowed. (Yeah, right.) Well, he ended up crying over it big time, saying that he didn't know and that he didn't hear if the teacher said gogos weren't allowed at school. He especially lamented the fact that with the new bag, he had ALL of his gogos in one bag and he lost them all. I really felt for the little guy, but, even if he didn't know that gogos weren't allowed (which I highly doubt), then this is a lesson to him about listening, since the teacher surely said the rule that he may not have heard. Either way, I told him I wasn't going to ask for his gogos back. It wouldn't be fair because either he had disobeyed the rules, or he had not been listening in class. Either way, there was a consequence. He would have to wait until the end of the year.

Last Thursday, Second Son came home with is bag of gogos, saying that he had gotten them back. I was pretty surprised, but I thought maybe his teacher had returned the toys for good behavior.

Yesterday, I bumped into his teacher after I dropped the boys off and was walking home from their school. She said that he had stolen the gogos out of her desk on Thursday when she was absent and had been replaced by a substitute teacher. Holy Smokes! The little thief!

Needless to say, this upset me very much. This morning, I sent the gogos back to school and made sure that Second Son's kindergarden teacher received them. Hence, the title of this post. As far as Second Son is concerned, I'm the bad guy. Just one of the joys of being a mom. :/

Boys Will Be Boys... ?!?!

Yesterday was a planning day at school. Being the well-prepared mother that I am, I had gotten the museum pass from our municipal library so we could go to the Canadian Museum of Science and Technology for free. (Our library has free passes to several museums - very handy for a low-income family. Very easy on the budget.)

Before we even made it to the museum, the boys were fighting in the back seat. Second Son had a pine cone and for some reason he saw fit to take bits of it and throw them at First Son. First Son responded with punches. I was understandably annoyed. First of all, because of the mess in the back seat. It looked like a squirrel had been left loose back there. (Actually, considering it was my two boys, I'm glad the upholstery is still intact!) But the most important reason for my annoyance was the fact that the boys just can't get along. I have to say, it really wears on the nerves, all this provocation and violence between them. Not to mention the added stress that I was driving while having to verbally manage the situation, which I did not do very efficiently. The boys knew there was nothing I could do while driving, and they ignored me.

I was definitely feeling the frustration of having disobedient children who don't listen. Honestly, I should have just turned around, brought them home and sent them to their room, but that wouldn't have been fair to Daughter. She was looking forward to the museum trip. She had gone with her class last Monday and had come home disappointed that none of her classmates had wanted to go see the part of the exhibit that was devoted to the Titanic. It would not have been fair to punish her for her brothers' misbehavior. Another reason for which I didn't turn around was that I knew that if we spent the day at home, the boys would be insufferable. They can't be shut up in an apartment all day. They need to move.

The other reason that I was feeling so frustrated was that I felt really alone in this situation. The boys have often resorted to physical fighting to settle their differences, and sometimes it seems like I just can't come up for air. They are always at it! I have mentioned this - let's be honest, I have complained about this! - to friends and acquaintances, and have been disappointed and equally frustrated with the answer: "They're boys." I hear that a lot nowadays, and it sounds to me as if society seems to be giving boys free reign to violence. Just because they're boys, I am supposed to expect them to be hitting each other all the time? Am I supposed to let them do this? Sorry, I don't buy it!

Some people have tried to pat me on the shoulder and tell me to wait until they are a little older, to tell me that they will grow out of it, but it seems to me that if I let this go on, they will only get worse. It shouldn't take maturity for a boy to be civil with his siblings. It should only take him being told once that violent behavior is unacceptable. I talk with the boys about this all the time. I reason, I beg, I lecture. Nothing has worked thus far. Why is it so easy and natural for them to settle things by reaching out and hitting one another? Where is their sense of empathy, their feeling that they shouldn't hurt one another because that hurts? I don't know. It's a complete mystery.

This is a really sore point with me because as a single mother, I constantly feel judged about how my children behave, which is a reflection to how I am raising them. As I am the main influence in their lives (if we disregard the fact that they do spend all day with their teachers), I am disappointed that they don't follow my way of behaving, that they haven't assumed my values. Sometimes I wonder if the more I exhibit my values, the more they will exhibit the opposite. If I treat them generously, will they turn out selfish? If I am patient with them, will they learn to take advantage of me? If I provide them with things out of love for them, will they grow up to feel entitled? I waited 23 years just to get pregnant, just to finally become a mother. I dreamt, daydreamed, babysat to practice, read books, researched, watched documentaries. In the end, I still end up feeling inadequate. Sometimes I despair that heredity has more to do with it than environment, and despite myself I see all their father's shortcomings in the children. Impatience, gruffness, superiority and a lack of empathy. Then of course I rebuke myself for trying to find a scapegoat, when it is I who am raising the kids. I do the best I can, devote my time to them, yet I end up disappointed in the outcome.

I refuse to accept that the boys are allowed to hit and fight just because they are boys. They have plenty of opportunities to channel their testosterone into positive outlets. They play outside every day, they are regularly enrolled in athletic activities, and I am constantly telling them that violence is not the answer. Still, sometimes even I have to admit that it seems that violence is ingrained in them. It is so spontaneous, it's scary.

Well, I am going to soldier on as I have, despite the disappointment and exasperation. I will continue to reason, beg and lecture. Hopefully, some of it will finally sink in some day.

Busy Day... But we've had our little chat.

Amazingly, I slept until 9 am this morning, and I was the first one to wake. I went right to the kitchen to feed our kitty and just then First Son also came to have breakfast. We were both in a good, relaxed mood, and it was a blessing that it was just the two of us, so I made him breakfast and we sat down to eat together. First Son had Dino Eggs Oatmeal and I had a garlic naan with greek yoghurt on it.

I brought up, very gently, what happened yesterday. I told him that the lady had said that she didn't feel he respected her, and that she had had difficulty in getting him to listen and to behave. His response? "I didn't know she worked there." (In my head I'm thinking, "Wrong answer!")

I assumed that First Son was playing innocent, and that he was making this up, but it turns out that he really didn't realize she was working there. He thought she was just there to pick up her daughter. As to who First Son thought was in charge? He didn't realize that his regular caregiver wasn't there that day! Honestly? I can't understand it, but apparently he never noticed that it was this new lady who was taking roll and taking them to the gym to play.

Well, of course I asked him to pay more attention, and I told him that no matter who was taking care of him, or even just talking to him "from the sidelines," he should always pay attention and be respectful.

First Son has a bit of a stubborn streak, and he kept insisting that he didn't know that the lady worked there, but I insisted that it was irrelevant, and that his motto should be to love and respect everybody.

I think in the end we reached some sort of agreement. At any rate, we were able to agree and we had a very nice day afterwards. We all had a very nice day, as a matter of fact. I got a bit of one-on-one time with all three of the kids, which is quite an accomplishment. I am grateful to have pulled it off today.

I Must Admit This Weekend Was Both Physically and Emotionally Draining

Besides attending some activities with the children and chauffeuring them to others, I did attempt to clean the apartment a bit and cook too. On Saturday night I really enjoyed it when we all sat down and had fajitas together. Not because of the fajitas, but because everyone was relaxed. Even me.

So Saturday night was a gift, an "up" on my life's rollercoaster. I'm glad that I got to have it, because Saturday afternoon my feelings had been genuinely hurt.

It was Saturday afternoon after Second Son's gymnastics. We had just dropped Daughter off at my sister's and I was driving home with the boys. We had been supposed to stay a while too and plant flowers, but with all the rain we just dropped her off and headed home.

I had packed a small box of crispy rice squares that First Son and I had managed to whip up between that morning's volunteering and the gymnastics. I had meant them as a snack for when we were at my sister's but on the way home Second Son opened the box to have some. I asked him to hand me one too. That was the moment First Son decided he didn't want me to have any. He said, "No! Don't give her any!" in a loud whisper. I told him don't be kidding and reached my hand back so Second Son could place a square in it, and First Son hit his hand away from mine and then hit my hand too.

Understandably, I was upset. "What are you thinking," I asked, "after I helped you make those?"

"I made them myself and you can't have any."

Oh! That nasty voice! Where did that come from?

"I can't believe you said that."

"I made them and you can't have any."

My feelings were so hurt, but I was also angered. I pulled over and asked for the box. I put it in the front seat and drove home. I was hurt, but also fuming. I almost threw the whole batch in the garbage. I bit my tongue to keep from saying something vindictive, like that I would never make anything with him in the kitchen again. (I'm glad I bit my tongue. Saying that would have been a very bad idea!)

What had gotten into him? I felt like a little kid in elementary school, who is excluded from a treat that someone shares at recess. It hurt. And from my own son!

At home, Second Son acted as if nothing had happened. He was about to put on a DVD when I sent him upstairs while I made supper. He eventually came downstairs and hugged me and said that he loved me, but when I said, "And what was that all about," he didn't answer. I was too tired, so I let it go, but I think that was a mistake. I think I should have told him how lousy he made me feel, like I wasn't accepted by my own son. I think I just wanted to avoid guilt-tripping him, but maybe I should have. I really don't think he learned any lesson here, except that it was a-okay to walk all over Mommy's feelings. I think I missed a valuable opportunity to parent, but I was just too drained to act. I still had to go pick Daughter up before supper, and by the time we got home I just wanted everyone at the table before they got so hungry they went looking for snacks for themselves.

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On Sunday, it was Daughter's turn to hurt my feelings. (You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no, it still hurts.)

We were at her cake decorating class at Michael's that afternoon. She had learned to make carnation roses out of gumpaste. A lady was passing around some coloring powder that we could dry brush onto the carnations, and daughter decided she wanted to try it out. She brushed the powder on, but onto the whole petal, whereas the lady had showed us just to brush the petal edges. I told daughter this and she said she didn't see the difference, so I took another carnation rose that she had made so I could show her. About a second after I started applying the powder to the petal edges, she all but grabbed the flower out of my hand. "Don't do that," she said! I was very taken aback by her the tone and volume of her voice. I said, "What? I can't try just one flower?" "No," came the reply! Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I couldn't believe it. She had such a nasty look on her face and she set her teeth and worked on doggedly with her gumpaste. Needless to say, my feelings were really hurt. I mean, forget about the fact that she was at her third cake decorating class, after I had paid for her Basic and Tall Cakes classes, and now this one. Forget about the fact that I paid for all her materials. What about the fact that I took her to each and every one of those classes, a good half-hour's drive from our house, to spend time with her and try to give her a go at something that interests her? I mean, it isn't cheap and it is very time-consuming and I just sit there and watch what she does most of the time. This is how she thanks me? I can't remember the last time I felt so frustrated! -oh! yes I do: the day before, with Second Son.

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You know, I am not one of those people who seek attention and gratitude for every little thing. But once in a while, a kind gesture would be nice. With both of my kids this weekend, I felt hurt, and that pain knocked any parenting skills I might have clear out of me. If the children had acted in the opposite way, I would be posting now about how proud I am of them, of their generosity and goodwill. Instead, I am just sitting here so disappointed.

Again, it comes down to this: why am I unable to transmit my values of love and generosity (and thankfulness!) to my children. I feel like a complete failure.

Take what lessons you will from this post. I'm off to bed.

Again with the brain...

This morning the plan was to come online and complain that my brain wouldn't leave well enough alone. Something happened and instead of getting past it, it won't let me forget. This morning, it was just frustrating but, in light of what just happened, I have to wonder what is going on?

Yesterday, Second Son forgot his lunch bag at home. I didn't notice that he wasn't carrying it when we walked to school, and I didn't notice it in the front hall either. But it was the beginning of my frustrations.

Normally, when a child forgets his lunch bag, I would expect the school to telephone the parents. But that is not when Second Son's school did. Instead, they gave him a hot lunch from the catering service. Then, the catering service called me and left me the bill number, saying that I had to send five dollars in the next day to pay for Second Son's lunch. Now, if I were to keep things in perspective, I would say that at least Second Son had gotten a warm lunch in his tummy and all's well that ends well. But, I am not in a frame of mind to keep things in perspective.

When I went to get the boys at school, I made a complaint about the way things had been handled. I told them that if this happens again, I expect the school to call me. While I recognize that sometimes calling the parents in the middle of the day doesn't help because they may be waaaaaay across town at work and won't make it to the school before the end of lunch period, I maintain that you never know until you try. The school didn't try.

I should also add here that I could easily have brought Second Son his lunch bag and, most frustratingly, that I intentionally did not sign the boys up for hot lunches this month because it just would way exceed my budget. Now, I find myself having to pay for a hot lunch anyway, AND at a higher price than if I had prepaid. Really frustrating.

The frustration doesn't end there though. Last night, I had this terrible dream that I was at home in the afternoon, and was just about to take a nap because I was really tired from cleaning, and Second Son walked in the door. In the dream, it was 3 pm and school wasn't finished yet. I was desperately frustrated that I couldn't take a nap, to the point where I was almost crying. I picked up my phone to call the school and berate them about letting a six-year-old leave the premises unsupervised, and to ask how they were keeping an eye on him if they didn't even realize that he was gone. But, it was one of those dreams where no matter how hard you try, you can't dial the correct number and you have to start over again and again. In my case, I was unable to find the school in my contact list and I had to keep looking and looking. I woke up very frustrated and upset.

This is what I had planned to post about, ending with a frustrated rant about how yesterday was yesterday and there is no point dwelling on it. But my brain IS dwelling on it. Why won't it let well enough alone. Obviously, it has something it needs to work out. I can't imagine what it is. I just want to forget about this. It is bloody frustrating and there is nothing I can do about it any more, so why not just let it go?

Why not? Well, because of what happened this afternoon. 

When I arrived this afternoon, one of the after-school care ladies wanted a word. I thought that she wanted to talk about the complaint I had made yesterday, but it was something entirely different.

Apparently, Second Son had been playing LEGOs this afternoon; he had been building a gun out of LEGO. This might be overlooked, but when he was finished, he started "shooting" at the other kids, who complained to the teacher. When she asked him to stop, he just "shot" at her. When she TOLD him to stop, he dumped all the LEGOs across the floor and stomped away. She made him pick up the LEGOs. He started to, then she went back to what she was doing, but a moment later the other kids informed her that Second Son had run off. She looked for him everywhere, in the halls, the washrooms, anywhere he could have gone. Finally, she wondered if he hadn't run home. She put a call out to all the teachers and everyone started looking, and finally she was about to call the police, when someone found him, locked in a shower stall with his feet pulled up. (The shower has a little ledge so the water won't run out, so they couldn't see his feet when they looked under.)

When they got him out of the shower stall, the teacher told him to sit down and he wasn't allowed to move. He kicked her! I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. Needless to say, he is gonna be punished. (Right after he gets off Skype - he is very busy now telling his father how he hates school. Then I will get an email from Daddy asking why I didn't tell him about it, when it just happened and the kids aren't even in bed yet. But yes, I prefer to blog about it first because I am trying to channel my frustrations into something other than going upstairs and yelling at my son. I very much want to deal with him in a calm manner.)

I guess what I was getting at when I started typing is this: was my brain trying to warn me that something would happen today? Is that what the dream was about? Would Second Son have run all the way home if he could have gotten out of the school? Honestly, after the dream, I was seriously considering taking him out of after-school care, although that would mean I have to be home for him to come eat lunch at 11:30, and I couldn't accept doctor's appointments in the afternoon any more, for fear that if the wait was too long I wouldn't be home by the time Second Son finished school. And I do have quite a lot of doctor's appointments to try to figure out what exactly is causing my health problems. Among other things, I am waiting to have a bone marrow biopsy. In the meantime, I have to have doctor's appointments, iron shots and blood tests. (Meetings with the social worker, etc., etc.)

Having Second Son come straight home from school might cause some scheduling conflicts with my daytime activities, but I was so frustrated with his school yesterday (and this morning, after the dream), that I was seriously considering it. Not to mention that it would save me a lot of money. Quebec prides itself on its $7 a day daycare, but when you have three kids it becomes $21 a day and I am always living in fear of my check bouncing when I have to pay at the beginning of the month.

I recognize that pulling Second Son out of school is not the answer. He - as most other boys his age - is obsessed with violence. Their favorite games are war, their favorite toys are weapons. I draw the line at guns, but they do have quite a few swords and light sabers at home to play with. I am always talking with them about how bad and sad war is, about how violence will not solve the problems of the world. But there is something about boys that I don't understand. The testosterone and the thirst for violence. I worry that when they get older and reach the age where it is no longer cool to be seen in public with Mommy, I will lose any chance of redeeming them as peaceable beings. I want boys that I can be proud of. I fervently hope that as they grow, they will mature into wisdom and peace. In the meantime, I will do my best, but setbacks like today's are really disheartening. 

Where was I going with this?

- I have been disappointed with our neighborhood school,

- I have been disappointed with Second Son's behavior,

- I have been frustrated by my brain and its mysterious ways. (Seriously, we are one body, can it not be a little clearer when trying to send me a message?!)

OVER AND OUT

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Executive Decisions

I can't remember a time when I didn't want to be a mom. I had my first child at 24 and I like to joke that I waited 23 long years to get pregnant. I always knew I wanted kids. I could see it all at a very early age. I didn't know if I would ever marry and have a husband, but I knew that I would adopt about 15 kids and live with them on a farm and I would be Supermom. :D

Childish dreams aside, I have been thinking about (and practicing) parenting for many, many years now. Along the way, I have of course gotten some rude wake-up calls and I am constantly humbled by how much I have to learn. I have always wanted to be a good mother and teach my children everything I possibly could to best prepare them for life and the real world.

One of my ideas, inspired by the Montessori Program that Daughter was enrolled in, was to have my children experience everything they can of life. Montessori called this apprentissage à la vie, life learning. Basically, the Montessori program had kids manipulate everyday objects and practice everyday activities. There were real telephones for the kids to play with, little plastic bottles and boxes with different kinds of lids that the kids had to learn to unscrew to open (to develop fine motor skills) and many other interesting toys, which took the place of the traditional LEGO and other toys you would usually see in a daycare.

Apprentissage à la vie meant that the children had a potted plant at daycare that they would clean off with a wet sponge. It meant that they prepared their own snacks, like cutting cucumber slices, done by a different child each day under the supervision of the caregiver. They gave a doll a real bath with water and a sponge, and they ran water from the tap into a pitcher and then poured from the pitcher into a cup when they were thirsty. They did the dishes.

I thought all of this was just super and I created the same kind of learning atmosphere at home. The rude awakening came when I realized that besides working full-time and changing the baby's diapers, I would eventually have to stop doing things this way with Daughter because it was a very time-consuming method and things didn't always get done. Although we were still doing pretty well when First Son was born, thanks to the fact that he napped two hours in the morning and two hours every afternoon, the life learning eventually disappeared when Second Son was born. I just couldn't juggle it all any more.

I have recently, although reluctantly, let go of another practice that I have maintained ever since the kids were born: I have decided that I won't necessarily consult them on every decision that I make regarding their activities.

As I have mentioned, it is important to me to transmit my life values to my children. One example is generosity. I try to do some volunteer work when my schedule permits, and I want the children to be aware of this so I can serve as a model to them. A big thing in transmitting one's values is communication, not only modeling the behavior, but also discussing it.

This weekend the city of Gatineau is organizing the annual Grand ménage du printemps (Spring Cleaning), where citizens pitch in to clean up our municipal parks. I have been wanting to discuss it with the children for days, so that we can sign up as a family, but we just haven't gotten around to it. Yesterday morning, I saw that it was the registration deadline, so I made an executive decision: I don't have to consult the children every time I want to plan an activity. I'm the mom, I'm the boss. (Wow! That sounds so authoritarian!) I registered us on-line to clean our neighborhood park, without consulting the kids. My way of looking at it is this: maybe they won't want to go pick up litter in the park from 9 to 12 on Saturday morning, but I have decided it will be a good experience for them. They will give to their community, and I hope that they will be proud to do it. As for me, I am relieved to have taken the decision. We are signed up, we didn't miss the deadline, it is one thing I can cross off my to-do list. I think I will try to be more proactive and take more decisions and get things done more often starting now.

Open-Minded Agnosticism

It occurs to me that while I have decided to write down my journey towards faith in this blog, the blog itself is supposed to be about a single mother and how she faces life's ups and downs. In an effort not to forget about that original intention, although I am continuing with the spiritual posts today, I will try in the future to keep up with the rest of my mission: to write about parenting. For today, I will however keep to the spiritual posts. I hope you will forgive me, seeing as it is Sunday. :o)

In my early twenties, I was an agnostic with an ever-opening mind. My previous doubts about religion had been based on my inability to accept that people could believe in God based on the Bible, which they took literally.

I have always loved reading and had pretty high marks in English literature. I liked to look for clues that foreshadowed a story's dénouement and I liked to look for deeper meanings. I found that once I learned to do this properly in English class, even my enjoyment of movies was increased, as I paid more attention to dialogue, setting and circumstances to see if I could guess the end.

After that famous discussion about the story of the loaves and the fishes, I came to realize that it was not necessary to read and believe in the Bible literally. I came to see the value of looking for the underlying message. While I did not yet claim to be a Christian, I was very curious about religion. At the same time, there were things about religion that turned me off.

Although I did not claim the title of Christian for a long time, I knew since the age of about 15 that my family was religious. My maternal grandmother was a devout Catholic her whole life and my paternal grandmother was also religious, although I must say I never knew it by being around her. When I got married at age 19, my cousin asked why we weren't having a church wedding. My answer at the time was that we weren't religious enough. But when I think back, we weren't religious at all. I considered myself a Christian not by belief, but by heritage, seeing as I came from a Christian family. I think I probably said that we weren't Christian enough because the cousin who asked me the question was very religious and I guess I succumbed to a bit of something like peer pressure. Truth be told, though, I didn't believe in God when I got married. I hadn't taken those life-changing courses in university yet. My husband was even less religious than I, despite his Isten, Haza, Csalàd! (God, Country, Family!) motto. I came to understand that he only said that because he was a big (true) Hungarian and that is a Hungarian motto. But I came to see that he knew very little of the Bible. I mean, when we saw the Disney film The Prince of Egypt, he had no idea that it was based on the Bible. Yet, that is very basic Bible knowledge, it seems to me...

Anyway, like I said, I was open to the idea of religion, but had yet to really come into contact with it. My grandmother did try to teach me a few things, but I saw her so seldom because I lived in North America and she in Europe, that her influence wasn't very permanent. Mostly, I think I played the role of The Good Girl for her, but none of her teachings really stuck, apart from my seeing that religion really did give her peace of mind.

I remember one day when I went swimming in a lake with my great-aunt and she told me a Bible story as we were swimming along. I remember being really annoyed because her whole point was that homosexuality was a sin - something I did not and do not agree with - and I felt like she was trying to stuff her beliefs down my throat. Don't get me wrong. She is a very nice old lady, but very strict when it comes to her beliefs. I do love her very much. 

Another thing that made me hesitant about religion is what I heard when I went to church, (because after my daughter was born I started taking her to church when she was about a year old.) I was curious and mostly I didn't want Daughter to miss out on what I had missed as a child, so I took her to church, if only to better her chances at understanding English Literature when she went to high school. I thought it would be to her advantage to know the basics. I was also hoping to land a teaching job in a religious school, and so going to church couldn't hurt. If you are thinking right now that those have to be the WORST reasons for a person to go to church, I won't argue. :o)  Anyway, although I was open-minded and curious, I didn't really like the sermons. It sounded to me like the priest was preaching that the Bible should be taken literally. I didn't see him trying to get at the message of the Word. I have since been to other masses that I have really enjoyed so I guess this had to do with that one particular priest at that one particular church. In the end, I stopped going to church, but I did buy picture Bibles so Daughter could still get her initial education.

When Daughter started daycare and I started working, I met someone at work with whom I had some very interesting conversations about religion over some very spicy cups of tea. This person was of the Bahai faith and he made me think about a lot of things that I hadn't thought about before. But that will be a story for a different chapter. That's enough for today, I think, except of course for some Supermom Words of Wisdom that I will leave you with:

One conviction I have arrived at somewhere along the way is that all religions are valid, and that includes atheism, or lack of religion. If you look at any religion, you will see the same underlying guiding principle: love. Religions are a kind of code for how to live one's life, and it always comes down to love. Love thy fellow man. Love thyself. Love God, if you believe in him. Love the good you can find in everyone even if you don't believe.

As for parenting, I will leave you with an example:

I have mentioned previously the value of teaching children about the Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes to teach them about generosity and sharing, but if you do not believe in God or if you have an aversion to using Bible stories as parenting tools, you can achieve the very same goal by telling your children the  Stone Soup story.


The basic point is this: decide on your values. Find the tools you need in order to transmit your values to your children. I believe everyone is born good. In fact, I believe that everyone is born noble. Nevertheless, children aren't born knowing everything about life. They learn many things from what they see and observe. It is up to us parents to make sure they see and observe our values so that they have a good foundation on which to build the values that they will eventually adopt and live by. They are little. They can't do it alone. That is what parents are for. :o)

I Seem To Have Money On My Mind A Lot Lately

Tonight I managed to sell the spare Nintendo 3DS that we had bought for my younger son to replace the one that he had "lost" which ended up being not lost, so now we had two. (Yes, I am rather fond of run-on sentences, although I am not as good at composing them as Lemony Snicket, who is an expert run-on sentence composer, unlike myself, who am not as good at it as he, Lemony Snicket, is.) ;)

I am proud to say that I resisted temptation and did not make a profit on this sale. We had originally bought the game for $100 and that is how much I sold it for tonight. So we came out even.

Money does not have a good track record as far as staying in my pocket is concerned. As I have posted previously, my first son really DID lose his Nintendo by taking it to school and having it stolen. So that one still has to be replaced, not to console my misbehaving son, but to spare the feelings of his grandparents, who gave him the game and would be very hurt to find out that he had taken such bad care of it.

So this $100 will go towards buying him a Nintendo that I may or may not forbid him to ever touch. :o)

Luckily, I have also managed to sell Daughter's horseback riding pants and boots, so the money for the second Nintendo, which should cost about $120 if the person selling it ever replies to my emails, has been secured.

I must say I will be relieved to have this whole episode behind us. I still remember how panicked I felt when I thought of telling my parents that the boys had lost their birthday gifts. Worse yet, I am still not sure that I dealt with this situation in the right way. I recognize that in essence I am shielding the boys from the consequences of their actions. Am I protecting them in order to spare my parents' feelings, or to hide the fact that I am an inadequate mother whose parenting skills are sorely lacking and whose sons disobeyed her and were not responsible enough with the expensive gifts that they received? Truth be told, it is a little of both. I would be ashamed to tell my parents what really happened. I am going to these great lengths to replace the Nintendo both for my boys' sakes and for mine.

Hopefully this chapter will soon be closed and I can get on with life, with a little less money in my pockets, but also minus some of the guilt.

Home Early

After two fun days and two freezing-cold nights at the cottage, the kids and I decided that we wanted to sleep in our own beds tonight. It's supposed to rain tomorrow anyway, and we can play all our rainy-day board games at home just as easily as we could have at the cottage.

IT'S GOOD TO BE HOME! We have all taken steaming hot showers and are relaxing in our nice clean pajamas. The cherry on top - for the kids anyway - is that there is still no school tomorrow. Life is good.

The cottage was a positive experience overall. I say overall because of course like any other life experience it was representative of what life is: ups and downs. We did all the fun cottage-y things we wanted to, spiced with a pinch of argument and a dash of disobedience. That's putting it mildly.

The cottage belongs to the family of some friends of ours and is located on the shores of the Bonnechere River near Eganville, Ontario. We got out there early enough on Saturday night that it was still light out, and we had a very nice supper, all cooked over a campfire. Here is a picture of what the place looks like from the fireside:

And here is a reverse angle, taken from the woods by the river's edge:

As you can see, there is lots of open space for the children to run around in. I think it is the first time we were out there so early in the year that the fields were still bare. Usually, they are grown about waist-high and we really have to stick to the road to get down to the river and back. Another wonderful plus this weekend: no bugs! That was certainly a blessing. :o)

We spent all of yesterday outside, building the fire, playing down by the river and exploring the old barns, the boathouse and the woods around the property. We saw a beaver dam, wild turkeys and some really cool predatory birds which I will have to try to identify as I'm not sure what they were, but they circled over the fields very close to where we sat by the fire. The water wasn't turned on yet since the winter, so we had to haul it up from the river by bucket so we could flush the toilet and wash our hands. There were some tiny little life forms swimming in the bucket that the boys took quite an interest in thanks to a huge magnifying glass from the dollar store. So, all in all, a very enriching experience for the children.

Today was not as sunny as yesterday, it even rained a little, but it was perfect kite-flying weather. I even got to be a hero when I rescued one of the kites from the branches of a tree when the wind gusted so strong that the string broke and the kite took off. My only gripe personally is that my super-cute Hatley rubber boots leak! Gah! I think they are still okay for wearing on rainy days, but they do have a hole in them so wading in shallow water is a no-no. I found that out the hard way while wading out to a big rock to sit on in the sun. But the time I got out there, my socks were soaked. Here is a picture of the rock that was so inviting we couldn't refuse:

Besides all the fun we had, I have to admit there were times when I was less-than-happy. There were the moments when the kids started arguing (I can't even remember what it was about) and when they were all very much in synch, but saying and doing such inappropriate things that I was torn between bursting into tears and deciding then and there never to leave the cottage, never to let them out into the world, and certainly never to let them near television, radio, or school friends again. I mean, when did my eight-year-old learn to dance while grabbing his crotch and where did he learn songs with such vulgar lyrics that I wouldn't even listen to them?  He wasn't the only one singing either. The other two were singing along just as happily. It really upset me. They have no idea what they are saying. It is heartbreaking to hear such filth come out from between such innocent lips.

Then, of course, there was the disobedience, like when First Son climbed along a fallen tree lying on a steep slope with glass and rusted scrap metal below it. (I think we must have stumbled across an old garbage dumping site. Blech!) Well, up he climbed despite my forbidding it and promptly fell off. My heart nearly stopped. I was wondering what would be worse: a broken leg, an arm cut open, or tetanus? I decided that the worst thing was that I have no authority when it comes to my kids. So much for my super parenting skills. :/ I recognize danger, I warn them about danger, and then they go and ignore my earnings anyway... When first Son fell off the log and rolled down the slop, he hurt himself and cried. I climbed down to him and helped him climb up. Fortunately, he was unharmed, and although he did cry, he was soon right as rain after a sympathetic hug and a kiss from Mommy. But when I gently reminded him that I had told him (TOLD, not asked!) not to climb up there in the first place, he just shrugged it off and said, "But I wanted to climb it." He was totally unresponsive to my pointing out that when I tell him not to do something, it is to keep him safe, not to ruin his fun, but he just won't accept it. It made me a little angry, I admit, and I almost told him to go ahead and climb the log again, but not to come crying to me when he fell. Luckily, I bit my tongue. But the temptation was almost overwhelming.

Luckily the running around (and the climbing...) tired the children out very well. In the evening, we watched they sky change colors and sat a while by the fire before heading inside to go to bed. The cottage has no heat, but I piled lots and lots of blankets on everyone, so no one's toes were cold and we all slept well. Here are two of the last pictures I took last night. The first is of the evening sky. The second is called "Sneaking Downstairs While Everyone Is Asleep To Put Out The Loot." :D This morning was Easter Sunday, after all. 

A small disclaimer: none of the chocolate is actually from me. My family is responsible for that. I bought the kids non-edible treats, since I have noticed in recent years that although they beg for the huge chocolate soccer balls and pirate ships, they don't end up eating them because they don't really taste all that good. So I got Daughter a watch because hers is old and the band is about to give way; First Son got some circus balancing plates he has been asking for for a long time, and Second Son got a camping chair. The funny thing is, because I wanted to give my sister, my parents and my brother's girlfriend credit for the chocolates they gave the kids (the brown package is from my parents in New Jersey), I went and bought some small Easter chocolates that I put out on a separate table for the kids. Those were from the Easter bunny. lol What can I say? The boys still believe. I wouldn't want to disappoint them. ;) 

This post is getting rather long and my eyelids are getting rather heavy, so I feel I must write something Supermom Smart to end with. Here goes:

We plan a lot of fun things to do with our children. We plan these activities for them. We know this, they may not. My advice is to try to enjoy the good times, and overlook the "less-good" times (I draw the line at saying "bad") because I am sure that the kids will remember the good times and the fun things that they did. I truly doubt they will grow old and say, "Remember that time I fell off the log and Mommy was really angry?" I am sure that memories about wild turkeys, little squiggly things squirming around in a bucket of water, and feeling so grown up to be in on the Easter Bunny secret with Mommy while the boys are still clueless will stick with them much more. So why not hang on to those memories ourselves, as parents? Ultimately, we deserve some nice memories too.

Crazy Day Today

We are leaving tonight for a friend's cottage on the Bonnechere River near Eganville, Ontario. We'll spend 3 nights and 3 days there, hopefully relaxing. :o)

The crazy part, of course, is getting ready to go. We have to get packed.

Show of hands: How many of you have tackled the task of packing for four people while the two youngest of your brood unpack every bag to see if they can find their pocket knives?

Anyone?

Anyone...?

Well, I seem to be alone in my predicament. That's too bad. I was hoping for some advice.

The only way I can cope with the frustration is to take a time out and write today's blog post.

The pocket knives were souvenirs from Québec City last year. They are like swiss army knives, with different tools in them like scissors and screw drivers. They will be handy for sharpening sticks to roast marshmallows and hot dogs on, but I do not want the boys playing with them in the house. The reason I hid them in the first place was that they became weapons when the boys got in an argument. At that point, I decided they were not mature enough to have them.

This weekend, I will try to let them have the pocket knives and see if they can be responsible with them. The problem is, First Son asked me to pack them for the trip and as soon as I said that I already had, both boys started looking for them. That is very annoying, when everything in the bags was nicely folded and rolled. To my credit, though, they have not managed to unearth the knives. I hid them that well. *smug smile*

We still have to eat lunch, take Second Son to gymnastics, during which I have to do groceries, then we have to have supper, pack the car, go to cake decorating class (a special class for the boys to decorate Easter cakes), and we leave for the cottage from there. Somewhere between all of that I have to fit in the time to go get the cottage keys. Oh, and I also may get a call from the person who wants to buy our spare blue Nintendo for $100. Like I said, Crazy Day. I had better get back to it.

I'm sorry that today's post is so short. I don't know if I will have time to get online before next Wednesday, so I would like to wish everyone a very happy Easter if you celebrate it, and a lovely weekend to all even if you don't.

Take care,

Enikő
xxx

It's Not Easy Being A Parent, But It's No Easier Being A Daughter

Things just get weirder and weirder.

Have I told you how naughty my kids are? Well, they are! Very naughty. Now you know.

In September, First Son got a handheld Nintendo game for his birthday from his grandparents. In November, Second Son got one for his birthday too. They were both strictly forbidden to take them to school because obviously I didn't want them getting lost or stolen.

Well, First Son disobeyed me. It took a while for me to notice, but I finally did notice that he wasn't playing with his Nintendo any more. He said he didn't know where it was. Granted, stuff does tend to disappear around our house. The kids are constantly asking me if I have seen such and such a toy or item of clothing. I didn't think much about it. In fact, I forgot the boys even had Nintendos until Christmas, when their grandparents bought each of them a  new game to play on their consoles. At that point, I though it was weird that I hadn't seen the Nintendos in a long time, but neither boy would admit that they had lost it so, even though I had my suspicions, I played along and told my parents they must be around here somewhere.

Last week, I came right out and asked First Son if he had taken his Nintendo to school and lost it. He admitted that he had. Needless to say, I was VERY upset. I was actually, literally rendered speechless. Then I started to panic. What was I supposed to tell my parents when they came to visit? My worry about how their feelings would be hurt that First Son hadn't taken good care of their gift to him was such that it even overshadowed any thoughts of punishment - and I was fuming because First Son definitely deserved punishment.

I had all but decided that First Son must himself tell his grandparents about what happened, but I myself was so upset and disappointed that I wasn't prepared to let my parents go through the same thing. I wanted to protect them. I was so disappointed in my son but I was also very hurt that he would disobey me and lie about it for so long. I was also desperate to get the Nintendo back, but after so many months there was no point calling the school about it. (I must admit I also have VERY ugly feelings towards the child who took the Nintendo out of First Son's backpack AND towards that child's parents. I mean, seriously, your kid comes home with a $200 Nintendo and you don't ask any questions?! Grrr!)

Well, my mother just had hip replacement surgery for the second time because her first artificial hip actually broke. She is bedridden and won't be up and about for the next six weeks or so. My parents live in the States, so the operation was very expensive, and I have no desire to upset them about how their beloved grandson didn't care enough about the expensive present they gave him to take good care of it. So instead, I decided to try to find a replacement. Also, I sat down for a talk with Second Son and asked him to be honest with me regarding his Nintendo. Well, my young six-year-old wouldn't 'fess up, but I didn't have much doubt about where his Nintendo probably was, so when I found one on kijiji that was the same color as the one he had had, I decided, with a heavy heart, to buy it as a replacement.

So today I put the three kids into the car and drove 25 minutes to Barrhaven to buy an aquablue Nintendo 3DS to replace the one Second Son had lost. So now I figure he can play the game that he got for Christmas, but I draw the line at replacing the game that was in the console that he lost. And I made it clear that I was only buying this replacement to save Mama and Papa's feelings, and that under no circumstances was it to leave the house. Ever.

Well, Second Son literally smothered me with kisses today and promised to take good care of his new toy, but he also kept saying that he didn't take the other one to school and that he didn't know what had happened to it. He says he hid it under his covers when he went to school one morning and he hasn't seen it since. Yeah, likely story.

Well, to humor Second Son, and also to prove to him that what he was saying was impossible, since I wash his sheets every week because he is allergic to dust and dust mites, I looked for the Nintendo with him. I showed him how it wasn't under his bed (we vacuum under there almost every day) and we pulled his bed out to check that there was no Nintendo stuck between the bed and the wall. There was no need to shake out his blankets since, as I said, they have been laundered countless times since November. Second Son wanted me to lift up his mattress too, but I told him I lifted it every week when I put his fitted sheets back on. But, he insisted. So, we lifted his mattress clear off the bed and, 'lo and behold! there was his Nintendo, right smack dab in the middle of his bed, lying on the sheet of plywood that holds his mattress. You could have knocked me down and blown me over with a feather! Unbelievable!

An attitude adjustment was immediately called for. I humbly asked Second Son to forgive me for not having believed him when he said he didn't take his Nintendo to school. (And I bit my tongue so I wouldn't ask WHY he hadn't asked me to look for it before we went and got him another one!)

I suppose I could once again say that all's well that ends well, except that there are a lot of things that still bug me about all this:

1) My son told me the truth and I didn't believe him.
2) My other son told me the truth and instead of punishing him I became his accomplice in keeping my parents from finding out about it. I mean, is that good parenting? I am really not sure.
3) Why, oh WHY did I not find a black Nintendo on kijiji first so at least First Son's sin could be canceled out by now and we could all live happily ever after? (I am still looking for a black one at a reasonable price to replace the one he lost at school)
4) Mostly, I am still haunted by how awful I felt when I realized that both Nintendo's were probably gone, and how hurt my parents would be when they found out that the boys had taken such bad care of presents that their grandparents had given to them out of love. I love my parents very much and I just hate to think of them being hurt.

As a little post scriptum, I can tell you that Daughter was very eager to put our second aquablue Nintendo 3DS on kijiji so we could sell it. She wanted to make a profit off it. I did not agree with this. I wanted to sell it for the same price that I had bought it for this morning. On the other hand, I had really lucked out in buying it for $100, whereas all the other ones available are at least $120. So, as a compromise, we advertised it as "Make me an offer." Well, our first offer was $15. After a bitter laugh, I refused it. I didn't want to reply that I wouldn't accept any offer under $100. Instead, I changed the ad to read, "Make me a *reasonable* offer." I thought that was fair. I am in no great hurry to sell it. It is more important for me to find a black one for First Son first.

So, am I a bad mom, a bad daughter, and a greedy capitalist to boot? I hope not, but you are all entitled to your opinions.

I Could Have Done Without This *sigh*

Last night was definitely a test of my patience. First Son brought another reprimand home from school. He had apparently gotten angry and used inappropriate language. Super.

This time, as a consequence, he had to write a letter to the boy he had been impolite to and apologize. In addition, he had to write what he was going to do to break this bad habit. The problem is, First Son was completely indignant. It wasn't his fault, the other boy wouldn't leave him alone, he lost his temper and said something not nice. It wasn't his fault, he read the bad language in a book, the book put the words in his head, etc., etc., yada, yada, yada.

I had a Dickens of a time getting him to write his letter of apology. At first I just sent him to his room to write it, but he didn't do anything but rage about how injust it was for him to be punished. He was in no mindset to take up his paper and pencil. I went in and listened to him explain how it wasn't his fault, but he told me three times and all three times were different versions of the events. I couldn't understand what he was trying to say and I must admit it almost sounded to me like he was making everything up. Perhaps there were multiple events yesterday that built up his frustration to the breaking point.  First, he talked about how someone had accidentally hit someone else on the head with a soccer ball and he got blamed for it. Then he said he had been reading a book and there were bad words in it and it was the girl's fault who had taken the book to school. Then he said the teacher had called him a tattletale for telling her that another boy was reading when it was time to put their books away, and that she had said that the only reason he had looked at the boy was to see if he was doing anything that he could tell the teacher about. I was at a loss as to how to be supportive.

It took almost two hours for him to sit down to his desk in front of a piece of paper. Then he started in again about how none of this was his fault and finally he started crying. He said everyone at school hated him and he wanted to change schools and he wanted to move away and he never wanted to go back to school. I felt so bad for him. This was the same little boy who had adored his teacher and loved school last year in grade one. He still has the same teacher this year, but somehow the magic has disappeared. Of course the thing to do here is not to protect him from everyone and everything and let him change schools. What he needs now is to recognize that sometimes people disagree or argue but in the end they have to be able to work through it and continue the friendship.

There was no point at the time to say that he was making a mountain out of a mole hill. I mean, okay, he lost his temper, he said a bad word, he had to apologize. That's it, that's all. I myself was back and forth between anger and pity. It didn't help that when his little brother came into the room he told him in no polite way to get lost. I couldn't let that go by without saying anything, and this of course made First Son angry all over again. Getting him to write that letter was like pulling teeth. When he finally finished -and it was not a super letter, I have to say- I really felt like telling him to copy it out on a neater page because he had written it angrily and it was really messy. But it was late and his face was stained with tears and sweat. I thought he deserved a break.

Once the apology was finally written, First Son took his shower and then we read Green Eggs and Ham while his little brother was in the shower. He had fun reading the book and I had fun too because First Son is so adorable when he reads in English with his little French accent. I could visibly see him relax. Good!

Once the children were asleep, I had a bit of time to think about how the evening had gone. It wasn't  a super evening, but I don't know what I could have done differently. I certainly couldn't write the letter in First Son's place or tell him what to put in it. I couldn't pretend he didn't deserve the punishment with a note from his teacher staring me in the face. I think it's a lucky thing I kept my cool because I really did feel a nasty lecture coming on in the "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and do as you're told!" vein. That surely wouldn't have helped.

Ultimately, I am worried about what the underlying problem is that makes First Son snap and lash out instead of dealing more calmly with a situation. He obviously hasn't had a very easy life. He has been moved across the Atlantic ocean four times in the last five years, two of those moves were because his father took him on "vacation" and never came back, and then I had to go get him and his siblings with the help of Justice Québec, the RCMP, Air Canada and local Hungarian lawyers, police and social workers. Then there is the separation and drawn-out (but hopefully imminent!) divorce, the parental alienation exercised on him by his father against me, the fact that he hasn't seen his father in a long time since he can't come to Canada, the genetics that may have made him inherit his dad's short temper, etc., etc., etc. No kid has more stacked against him I am sure. I am also sure there is no point in denying my role in all of this. How can I punish him when I feel responsible? How can I help him? The answer is of course to put my guilt aside and discuss all this with him. He needs to talk it out and he needs to be talked with so he can agree that hurting someone back when they are hurting you is not the answer. No matter how badly someone teases or bothers him at school, he has got to learn how to control his temper. This discussion is important for First Son, but last night was not the time. It is a heavy topic of  conversation and we need to find a time when we can discuss it calmly. And soon.

This morning, it was not surprising that First Son had trouble waking up and getting out of bed. I confess I am as nervous about his day as he is. I can't wait for school to be over so I can go get him and let him tell me about it. I hope he had a good day today, but I also know that I can't go live his life for him. This morning may have been awkward, but hopefully he and his friends will have forgotten about it by the last bell of the day.

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.

Mothers and Daughters

I know there are many books written about the relationship between mothers and daughters. I've never read any of them. I didn't feel the need to. I have a very good relationship with my mother, and from the moment my beautiful little girl slipped out of my tummy, she and I were one and life was pretty darn rosy... Apart from the fact that she didn't sleep through the night 'till she was about two. But that I am willing to overlook... My baby girl had the silkiest blonde hair, the brightest smile and the cutest habits of any baby girl on Earth. I swear. She was at home with me until she was 18 months old, at which time I went to work and she went to daycare. I wanted to give her every advantage possible in life. I taught her sign language before she was old enough to talk, and when she started daycare in a Montessori institution, I studied up on what they were doing with her during the day and created a continuation at home. Truly, our apartment was a miniature daycare center. I bought Daughter mini cutlery and she was cutting and eating her own pancakes by the time she was two. I saved old boxes and jars so she could practice opening them and unscrewing the lids. I bought her safety scissors and acrylic paint. I let her wash the dishes - anything that was neither breakable or sharp she washed herself, standing on a chair at the kitchen sink. Life was absolutely wonderful. She knew she had my unconditional love and she returned it in kind. We were The Girls. We did everything together. When her baby brother arrived, Daughter proved to be an excellent big sister. She gave him kisses, made him a collage with stickers to put by his crib, and of course genuinely loved him.

Our relationship blossomed as Daughter got older. I started teaching her letters and how to write. This was pretty easy since our mother tongue, Hungarian, has just one way to pronounce each letter and just one letter for each sound we pronounce, with only one exception. Daughter was soon writing little stories and learning to read. When she started to learn all this again in French, she had figured the system out and had no trouble with the fact that there may be several ways to write the sound o in French. (au, eau, ault, aut, aux... you get the picture.)

Unfortunately, our perfect lives had one not-so-great aspect: my relationship with my husband was not a very good one, and on several occasions I had wished that I could just move out with the kids and lead separate lives from him. When our third child came along, we tried to make a genuine effort to fix the relationship because I told him that if things didn't change in a year, that would be the end of our marriage. We moved, he started working for his mother's business, and I stayed home with the baby. The attempt to get along didn't last long. I won't go into all the details, but after a year and a half, I finally left. It took me that long because I had no money to leave, and no real courage either. But there came a point where enough was enough, and I had no choice but to leave him.

Leaving my husband led to the events that have ruined my relationship with my daughter, a relationship that I am desperately trying to salvage. Two years after I left him, my husband took the three kids and left the country. I didn't see them for a year. When I finally got them back, the damage had been done. He had had a year to exert his influence on the children, especially on our daughter, who was 9 years old at the time. He filled her head full of lies about me and things between us have never been the same.

Nowadays, my daughter doesn't answer me when I tell her good night, good morning, have a nice day, how was your day... you get the picture. The only response to my "Have a nice day!" this morning was a frown and a slammed car door. The only thing my daughter wants from me is to send her to live with her father. She thinks that I'm the one who is a kidnapper because I took her and her brothers with me when I left my husband. This is what he told her, but he neglected to mention that I never denied him access to the kids. Not once. It is hard to deal with the brainwashing Daughter has received because I refuse to sink to her father's level and start badmouthing him. I would only go as far as to point out to her that if everything had been so good, then I wouldn't have left. I had my reasons. But now that she is with me and her father is overseas, she idolizes him. He can do no wrong, while I am the root of all evil. It is a frustrating situation to live, not to mention the pain of rejection every time I reach out to her.

I try to give her everything she needs and anticipate the things that she may like. She has shown an interest in cake decorating, and she will soon start her second cake decorating course, learning to decorate with fondant and gumpaste. It is something that we signed up to do together, but I sometimes get the feeling she wishes I weren't there with her. It's getting to the point where I am feeling apologetic about imposing myself on her. This is not the kind of mother-daughter relationship I was expecting to have with her, at least not until she was an adolescent! People tell me it is the same way with their eleven year olds, but I think that Daughter is taking it to a whole other level with me.

Friends and family continue to encourage me to persevere, and say that when she is older she will recognize everything that I have done for her, but I am not sure that she will. For example, when she was 8 she wanted to try horseback riding. I signed her up for a week during the summer, after which she started regular weekly lessons in September. She loved riding and was learning fast, gaining confidence and not letting her stubborn pony get out of hand. Then, suddenly, one day she refused to go any more. She said that I only signed her up because I wanted to ride but couldn't and so I was forcing her. I don't mean to point any fingers, but three guesses as to who put this idea in her head, and the last two don't count. It is true that I rode when I was young, and that I would love to again, but I can't leave three young children at home and take off for half a day to have a lesson every week. I am not complaining. My hope was to have all three kids learn to ride so we could all go as a family. On a side note, we have learned since then that my youngest is allergic to horses, so that idea has been scrapped. There is still my dream that we can all go scuba diving together, but that is a few years off yet, since the kids aren't old enough now and I certainly don't have the money to get them all certified.

But back to Daughter. Once she stopped taking riding lessons, we had more free time on the weekends to do other things, but she was always reluctant to do anything with me. Even if the boys are playing at a friend's house and I invite her to scrapbook with me (she loves scrapbooking), she refuses. She prefers to hide in her room and watch movies on youtube. Anything to get away from me. The situation has gotten so bad, that now we have a social worker who is trying to help us figure things out. I am enthusiastic, Daughter is indifferent about it all.

Where am I going with this? Oh! yes! Today I decided that the next time I go to the library, I am going to go look in the parenting section for a book on the subject of mothers and daughters. If only for Daughter to see that I am reading it, so maybe one day she will allow herself to believe that I really do want a relationship with her, as opposed to what she believes now: that I am keeping her with me just to keep her away from her father, so he will be sad and lonely. She thinks I don't even want her, but she couldn't be further from the truth. I still see the gummy, toothless smiles she gave me as a baby whenever I look at her. I still remember waking up with her on Saturdays and making breakfast together while Dad slept in. I remember all the things we did the summer she was three, when her baby brother would nap for two hours each afternoon, when we would do our Big Girl Things. I do so want to find that place again, where we have fun together, doing things we both love. We are not there yet, but hopefully one day... I'll keep you posted.