Finishing touches: Children and Independence

Pretty soon most kids will want to do things on their own, and from that they achieve an incredible sense of accomplishment and pride. Whenever Mikey wants to do something on his own, like pick out his clothing, make his own snack, or buckle himself in his car seat, I usually let him. Sometimes I end up having to help him (like with the car seat buckle,) but I only jump in to help after he is done attempting it on his own and is frustrated enough to ask for help.

Then there are times when I can't possibly let him leave the house without the threat of a visit from social services. Like when he insists on brushing his hair.


This right here? This is what he calls perfection. He doesn't see the fact his hair is plastered flat from the water in the spray bottle only in the middle of his head. He is blind to the two cowlicks that stick out like devil horns. He doesn't see the rat's nest that is the back of his head.


All he knows is he did it by himself and he looks hottt. "Mama. Did you see how handsome I look?" So I let him brush his hair. But, I've also developed a strategy that allows him to wield the brush of independence without him leaving the house looking like a ragamuffin. Mikey brushes his own hair every morning. In his pajamas. Then, we get dressed for the day.

Now, as often happens when you are taking off pajamas and putting on shirts, his perfectly coiffed hair will get tousled. Bummer. That's when I come in and try to repair his work.

Mikey: "But, mama! I already brushed my hair. Remember how handsome I am?"

Jules: "Of course! But while we you were changing your hair went a little crazy. I'm just putting on the finishing touches."

So now, every morning I put on the "finishing touches." Is it duplicitous? Maybe. However, I doubt years from now Mikey will lament from his spot on the therapist's couch that I never let him leave the house with messy hair. The way I look at it, Mikey feels like he is doing something on his own and I don't look like a neglectful parent. Everyone is a winner. Especially me, because even with tornado hair, I still think he is a bowl of sugar.

Blog Crush {My Timing is Impeccable}

This week I was going to write a post about my crush on the blog, The Misadventures of Kelly and Kelly, but it seems she is taking a modified break to reevaluate the direction of her blog. Gah!

Regardless, do go through her archives. I am always happy to see her blog highlighted with a new post in my blog reader. Without fail, each week she provides me with at least one great link I would have never discovered and seems to be on the same mission I am: to find joy and peace in the minutia of life and to value the blessings we have in the present. She's giving me many great links with that goal in mind.

Which brings me to my request. Kelly, you can change whatever you like about your blog, but don't deny me those great links. You're shaving hours off my day by doing all the work for me. ;)

xoxo
Jules

Favorite Moment | Books

I had a terrible week and the boys were trying my patience, so when I called the Mister yesterday and asked if he would like to meet us somewhere for lunch, he quickly agreed. Secretly, I think he was worried I would dust the boys' lunch with crushed Excedrin PMs if he didn't take us out for burgers and fries. Wise move, the Mister.

Mikey is still obsessed with dinosaurs. We go to the library weekly and bring home 3-4 books and videos, which he spends devouring the rest of the week. The idea of taking him to the library was mine after one exceptionally expensive trip to the bookstore. Prior to dino-mania, trips to the bookstore were not so frequent that they hindered our ability to buy food and diapers. But, it turns out, they are many, many books on dinosaurs--and Mikey wants all of them. So, perhaps, the Mister and I weren't thinking strategically when we decided to meet for lunch at our favorite outdoor '50s diner, which happens to sit across the street from Borders.

On our way to lunch I promised Mikey lunch and a trip to the park with daddy, which had him very excited. But when the rods and cones in his eyes feasted on that large, national bookstore with a cavernous children's section and an entire shelf devoted to dinosaurs, he could think of nothing else.

Jules: Mikey, eat your food before it gets cold.
Mikey: Oh, mom. I can't eat another bite.
Jules: Another bite? You haven't had your first bite, my friend.

And so it went. The Mister and I imploring Mikey to eat his food while he tried to convince us to take him to the bookstore.

Jules: Mikey, I'm serious. Eat your food.
Mikey: Mom, I can't! My tummy is telling me something. It's telling me I need to go to the bookstore.

What Mikey needs is to go into network marketing because he is a relentless salesman. When the Mister and I bought our first house, we made the mistake of allowing a water purifying salesman in the door. Three hours later, the Mister was forcibly pushing him out the door while the salesman yelled he could outsell the Mister any day of the week while he waved the checks of little old ladies as proof. Mikey is that guy. An hour into lunch, and he was still presenting to us the features and benefits of visiting the bookstore.

The Mister: Mikey, we said no. We're going to the library this weekend. If you want a book, maybe you should ask Santa.
Mikey: Well, actually, the bookstore is a really good idea.
The Mister: Mikey, we said NO.
Mikey: Well, I think when we get there you will think it's great.

Finally, the Mister had enough of Mikey's sales presentation. He was going to put an end to this compaigning by hitting Mikey where it hurt: taking away the trip to the park. Mikey, like every little boy out there, loves the park. He loves climbing, running, jumping, swinging, and getting sand in his shoes. Me? I can leave the park. There are germs everywhere and I can't function when there is but one grain of sand in my shoe. The Mister loves the park, so he was confident he had the upper hand when he told Mikey, "Okay, buddy. I guess we won't go to the park. What's more fun? The park, or the bookstore?"

To which Mikey responded, "Oh, Dad, books are better than everything."

Book 'em, Dano.

Those two clowns who robbed the Mister? The police caught them tonight. Of course the money is gone, but so is their freedom. If they were smart, they kept some of the money they stole. They'll need it to post bail. Hah!

Soccer Party

The season is officially over. We had Mikey's soccer party tonight at Straw Hat Pizza, where pretty much every child has celebrated the end of season at least once in their life. The allure, of course, is the oodles of video and arcade games. They could care less about the cardboard-like pizza.


The coach gave a two sentence speech on each of the boys during the trophy "ceremony." We were supposed to guess who he might be talking about before he announced the recipient. When the coach said, "I'm not sure precocious is the right word to describe this little guy, but he always had the most unique answers to any question I had..." I knew immediately he was talking about my Mikey.

I tried to get a sweet picture of the moment our son received his first trophy, but both my cheap camera and my willful child were not cooperating.

OK, Mikey, smile!


Mikey, open your eyes. One more time, smile!


Mikey, you're killing me. Seriously, look in the camera, forget about the candy in the bag, and SMILE!


Note: His hand is now deeper inside the bag. I give up. You get the idea--happy moment, so excited, trophy!

p.s. Do my children need a haircut, or what? They look like characters from a Charles Dickens novel.

Things I Hope to Never Forget | Breathe

Pity Party: Walk Ins Welcome

I've lost count of the number of times I've watched the video I posted yesterday. Aside from truly enjoying the message, the video has helped me put into perspective a challenging few days. I do not have a Brady Bunch family, I do not coffers brimming with gold, and I do not have enough hours in the day to do everything I need to do BUT I do have clean water, thank you very much. Can you really quibble about the insanity (that is actually banality) when there are people out there without clean water and shelter? Sadly, I can and do.

On top of miscellaneous family theatrics seen all over the world, the Mister was robbed again yesterday. The timing could not be worse. With the economy the way it is, with people as desperate as they are, I imagine events like this will only become more frequent. I guess all I can muster is: I don't know what to say. Rather, I know what I want to say, but I doubt my audience will be receptive to the message.

So I knit to keep from unraveling.

I've talked to a few knitters, and the pattern the yarn shop had me start with is actually complicated for a beginner project. That makes me feel better about my rocky beginning. I might start to really enjoy knitting, after all.

I enjoy it especially right now. When it seems like everything around you is falling apart, it feels productive to create something tangible. I am incapable of controlling much around me lately, but I can control my knits and purls. So, forgive me, please, if I spend a little time knitting when I should be writing. It's the next best thing to crawling under the covers and hibernating until the storm passes.