Thanksgiving Boogie

What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate

My children do not hear me. I am joking - sort of. In addition to loving my children unconditionally, my tasks as a parent in raising them center around teaching them how to be/function in this world and to keep them safe. My job would be a lot easier (hell, I would settle for somewhat challenging) if my children would listen to me. But I guess that is not their job. I have deduced that at times I must sound like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon because my words have no meaning.

Today we went to the Starbucks just above the Children's Museum at Seattle Center (I needed a coffee - I could feel a challenge about to start) and Kelan took off to see the giant train set up in the food court for the holiday. He ran away so fast when we got inside that I did not even have time to explain the rules of the outing. So now I am calling for Kelan (who is in sight and totally fine - although I am making a mental note to make an appointment to check his hearing which is clearly the problem - he is totally deaf). All while I am juggling the double stroller, Lauren, the diaper bag, and my coffee order. In hindsight I could have started this outing a different way, but that does not help me now.

I sometimes think I look like one of those crazed mothers who cannot control their children in public (come to think of it, I am one of those crazed mothers who cannot control their children in public). But in my defense, it is not for a lack of discipline. Kelan and Lauren are not allowed to run completely wild, but I have been forced to adapt to who my children are what they need (and how they learn). As a parent (and the adult in the relationship) this is my job. I often stare in disbelief at parents whose children stand right next to them and hang on their every word. It is safe to say I do not know what that is like.

When Kelan makes up his mind to do something and/or does not want to pay attention, he will not hear you. My sister, Caroline, mentioned to me that she had heard some young children get so caught up in what they are doing, that they physically cannot hear you. If that is true - I have a textbook case.

At my monthly parent education class (part of my committment for Kelan's Co Op preschool) each parent got to talk about one thing that your child does at school that drives you crazy. I spoke about Kelan not listening. How, at times, I have to get on my knees and gently (but firmly) hold his face in my hands, ask for his eyes and listening ears before he will hear me. Sometimes he does, other times I feel like I am trying to get the attention of a Stevie Wonder impersonater. Kelan's teacher nodded her head knowingly while I shared my troubles. She then explained that one of her sons was the same way. It is just who they are. A teacher with sympathy - wonderful. No quick fix - discouraging.

I need to find a better way to communicate with Kelan and Lauren when they are distracted (awake) because I want them to be safe and to learn how to be good people. Because both require a certain amount of instruction from me that must be heard.

We Forgot Lauren

Last night as I am walking out of the restaurant I see Dan and Kelan playing around the car in the parking lot. Dan gives me a weird look and asks, "where's Lauren?" Huh? "I thought you had her?" He swears he does not and I am thinking this is an awful joke and why is he not laughing yet. I come closer and oh my god, he is STILL not laughing which means - we forgot Lauren.

I run back into Bombay Palace (great Indian food - but this is really not important at this point) and I hear the hostess say, "she is right here" and motions to the main dining room of the restaurant. I sigh with such relief that I swear everyone can hear. I am so embarrassed. Every patron is laughing (Lauren is obviously okay and enjoying herself immensely with her new found freedom of running in between all the tables). The owner comes up to me and says that she will make a great hostess someday because she has been greeting every table. How does this happen? I will tell you: mass chaos.

We have gotten a little tired of our Friday night spot (Tacos Guaymas - Mexican food) so we have been trying out new spots with the kids. The new restaurant (and the fact that Dan just got back into town from a three day business trip) excited the kids. Sadly our dinner was keeping the kids in their seats, preventing water spills, controlling/quieting outside voices, and lastly, enjoying the amazing food. Dan and I inhaled the last bites on our plates and started gearing up to leave. This means: find the server/check and wrestle coats/hats on children. We needed to get the kids outside - fast. Dan said, "I'll take them out to the car." This is the turning point. I heard Dan say them. In reality he said Kelan (sounds the same - sort of). In my defense, the dining experience alone could have caused my brain to malfunction, but coupling that with the three days I have been on my own with the kids - I heard THEM.

I wait by myself at the table for the check. I speak to the couple seated next to ours and apologize if we have interrupted their meal too much - no, we have not. I thank our server, I leave a big tip (I cannot begin to describe the amount of rice under the table) and head towards the door - soon to realize my mistake.

During the car ride home, Dan and I retrace our steps (and imagine poor Lauren's). The best we can come up with is that she followed Dan and Kelan out of the dining room and went into the bar instead of going outside. We guess that when I left the restaurant she doubled back and started talking to the guests - which is where I found her when I came racing back into the restaurant. Kelan contributed to our conversation by continuously saying, "we forgot Lauren!" all the way home. Lovely.

We can laugh about it now because she is fine. Yes, we forgot Lauren, but only for a couple of minutes. I am sure we would not have driven off without her. All's well that end's well. You can say that again.

Some Days Are Harder Than Others

Today was one of those hard days. It started at 6:30am (I was awake earlier when Kelan crawled into bed with me and Dan, but since my husband gets up before me - and is a saint - he took Kelan with him when he got up). I drift back to sleep. Lauren wakes up which wakes me up. Dan goes upstairs to get her and brings her to me in bed - it is almost time for him to leave. Kelan gets in bed too. Dan heads off to work. My day has begun and I am not even out of bed, much less, my eyes are not even open.

We head to the kitchen for Lauren's milk (and my milk - uh, coffee). Within (what felt like) seconds, Lauren has climbed up on a stool and tipped over my coffee (it was luke warm at best - she is fine). Lauren is soaked. The counter and floor are covered with coffee. Coffee that would have been better in me than on her. Kelan is whining that he is hungry. They both start to cry. It has been 15 minutes since I got out of bed. This is NOT a good start. I am tired and cranky. I have a sinus infection. I am PMSing. I have not had my coffee. I lose it. I banished the kids from the kitchen and tell them that Mommy is in a time out. They cry harder. It takes me about 10 minutes to clean up all the coffee and get Lauren's milk. All the while Kelan and Lauren are crying - loudly - at the kitchen gate. I run the many coffee saturated towels downstairs to the washing machine and start a load of laundry, and then I hear Kelan yelling that Lauren is throwing papers. Huh? Mommy, Lauren is throwing papers! Shit, the only papers I know of are on the dinning room table. Which means - shit - she's on top of the dinning room table. I race upstairs. Kelan is right. Lauren is throwing papers off the dinning room table. She sees me and makes a run for it down to the other end (this is her new favorite activity - running around on the table). I cannot take it anymore and rather than being a crazy lunatic posing as a mom, I decide that Sesame Street may be better for my children than me. I have failed them so early in the morning.

This afternoon was not much better. I was already in a frazzled (and fragile) state after - what felt like - a long morning working in Kelan's Co Op preschool (it was field trip day). I also had to force Lauren to take her nap since she fell asleep in her playgroup this morning (I do NOT fault her playgroup sitters....they are amazing. Lauren is just having some difficulty with daylight savings. Damn that stupid time change!). After nap time, I asked Kelan to go potty. I was in the kitchen when he came running out saying he used all of the toilet paper. Is it on the floor? Yes he says. I have this vision that an entire roll is unraveled all over the floor. This is what my children do when left to their own devices in the bathroom. Damn it! I angrily scold Kelan for wasting toliet paper and tell him he is NOT supposed to do this. He looks at me with a confused/hurt look on his face and we walk into the bathroom. I see an empty roll, but there is not the expected pile of tissue on the floor, just some end scraps (which was what he was talking about when I asked if it was on the floor). I completely deflate and realize that Kelan came to tell me he used the last of the toilet paper. I have failed again. I burst into tears. Kelan sees me crying and then starts to cry too. I profusely apologize for getting mad at him. I explain that Mommy is the one in trouble - not him. I tell him I thought he wasted a bunch of toilet paper. I praise him for coming to tell me that we need to replace the roll. I am still weeping. I hold him tight.

Each night when I sing to Kelan just before he goes to bed I tell him he is a good kid. That I am happy. That I love him. Sadly, I know I will have more days like this. But my promise to my kids is that I will try to do better, and that we will always end each day with positive and loving goodnight moments.