I officially renounce my parenting privileges

Sigh. Well, today Ari lost his TV privileges. Ally is on the verge of losing her eating privileges (Ari having voluntarily relinquished his own last week). And Sascha and I are on the verge of leaving them both with a casual acquaintance and high-tailing it for the border.

Pass the rum.

from the mouths of babes

Ari, after handing me his art project:

"Don't break my heart, Mom. Don't break it."

I'll try not to, Ari. I really, really will.

"I am woman...

...hear me roar. "

That song always plays through my head as I walk back through the parking lot after a day at an amusement park with both the kids and zero adult back-up. Today, the early evening sun was slanting across Sea World's parking lot as I pushed my spawn through the Back 40 to our patiently waiting orange chariot. "...oh yes I am wise, but it's wisdom born of pain..."

As Sascha had other "adult" errands to attend to and couldn't share the parenting responsibility today, I decided "why the hell not have a little fun?" and packed up the kids to go see Shamu. It wasn't until I was almost at the park did I realize that a) it's a Saturday and b) it's a Halloween Spooktacular weekend at Sea World. Oh God. A lethal combination. Very quickly my flippant "why the hell not have a little fun?" turned into "what the hell have I done?" as the friendly parking attendants kept motioning us further and further away from the main entrance. How many people are here today? and Will we have to take a shuttle into the park? and I don't think they have a shuttle. However, I kept up a brave front and chattered away with Ari about Shamu and the dolphins and where-oh-where are we going to park? Luckily, we grabbed a spot, I popped the kids, several changes of clothes (ahem, potty training, ahem) and the sunscreen into the stroller and off we went.

Really, it wasn't that bad. Navigating the crowds of Elmo-clad children provided the biggest challenge...a dualie stroller isn't exactly the most deft child-hauling implement. Overall, the kids were great and I discovered yet again that if you toss enough snacks at Ari he'll sit through as many breast-feeding sessions as you want.

I also discovered anew that theme parks are some of the best places for people watching. Especially theme parks during Halloween. Children dressed as Nemo, Elmo, various levels of princesses and fairies, pirates, etc. etc. Beleaguered parents pushing strollers with screaming children (doubtlessly coming off a sugar high) slung over their shoulder. Pink-haired teenagers in the strangest moon-boot-high-top shoes...although I don't think that was a costume. "I told you to keep that thing in there or I'm taking it away," says a highly tattooed dad pushing his sword-wielding pirate in a stroller. A middle-aged woman in a walking cast and two elderly women cowgirlin' up and mincing through the throngs with their canes. As a young mom lost her daughter for about 90 seconds, I watched the panic bloom across her face and witnessed her thoughts fast-forward through the next 20 years without her little girl. "...Yes, I've paid the price. But look how much I've gained. If I have to, I can do anything..."

There were several moments that I had to force myself to keep a straight face. Yes, because some situations were simply laughable but also because I was reminded time and again of how we're all a part of this humanity-sludge and we all pretty much walk the same line when it comes right down to it. Our little trio was probably the subject of people-watching as well...At the Shamu show when Ally decided it was time for her nap and threw a Fuss while Ari was trying to sit on my lap so he could see Shamu. Grabbing Ari tends to calm Ally down so I allowed her to do this until the repeated grabbings provoked a Fuss from Ari. The Shamu Show wasn't nearly as inspiring for Ari and I this time around, although we got some chuckles from our seatmates...And again when I had to push through the throngs of waiting parents, with a nursing baby still attached, to pull Ari out of the bouncy house when his turn was up and he refused to come out on his own. As we all sat back down on the bench I had formerly been feeding Ally on, the mom next to me chuckled and said, "I've been there. I think I've walked across this whole park nursing one kid or the other. You basically just survive it, huh?"

And it all comes back down to that. We're all in this together. And yes, you basically survive it...this life thing. And if you're lucky, and if you actually try a little, then you end up living it. That's what I'm shooting for...the living it. Julia Alvarez wrote, "We are all the same size, don't you know? Just some of us stretch ourselves a little more." So I guess that's why I take small children to theme parks by myself. Why I'm determined to run another marathon. Why I choose to do childbirth without drugs. That's why I can't blow certain ideas (not to be mentioned here) out of my head. Just trying to stretch, trying to live. And as I look at a lot of the women around me, I see that I'm not alone.

I am woman, hear me roar

In numbers too big to ignore

And I know too much to go back an' pretend

'cause I've heard it all before

And I've been down there on the floor

No one's ever gonna keep me down again

You can bend but never break me

'cause it only serves to make me

More determined to achieve my final goal

And I come back even stronger

Not a novice any longer

'cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

I am woman watch me grow

See me standing toe to toe

As I spread my lovin' arms across the land

But I'm still an embryo

With a long long way to go

Until I make my brother understand

Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to I can face anything
I am strong
I am invincible
I am woman

~Helen Reddy

Wiggle Room

In a rare moment when both children are napping, I find myself drawn to the idea of change. How life changes, how it has already changed and how it will yet again and again and again. And so I went to QuoteGarden and looked at quotes on change and found the one I've posted in the margin.

...so true, it is. Each major change I have gone through, even the improvements...the positive changes, have involved a bit of grief. Some more than others. Some less.

Right now, I'm pondering the change our entire family has recently begun...Ari starting preschool. What was initially "not such a big deal" in Sascha's and my eyes had morphed into a "let's rethink this whole thing" once Ari began his first full week at school. The entire family's schedule changed...Sascha, of course, was the least effected...Ari the most...with Ally and I left spinning in his wake.

For two years, well, since Ari could make himself understood, he has begun his day with this question: "We going now?" or "Where we going, Mommy?" The kid had an itch to go, to get out, to meet and greet and discover. Every day. If we didn't leave the house by 11 am, I faced retribution in the form of tantrums, whining or a boycotted nap. So, Sascha and I understandably assumed that preschool would be a boon for him. Imagine! A place to go every day!" But, it didn't turn out like that. As most things in life, there would be a breaking-in period...a period we, idiotically, were not expecting. Ari cried at drop off, clinging to my hand and begging me to sit on the steps with him. Or he would sit on the couch in the morning, crying that he didn't want to go to school today. He would refuse to get dressed, refuse to leave the house and take inordinate amounts of time picking out a toy(s) to bring with him in the car. Diversionary tactics, all. So we started thinking that this was too much. Too many days a week. Too soon for him to be away from Mom. I started talking to the teachers about decreasing his days. I started to doubt myself and my choices for our son.

As for me, I did in fact long for Ari to begin school. And then, the week before the blessed event, I started feeling sad. Sad that we wouldn't have time during the week to go to the beach, the zoo or to have morning park time, although each of these things involved a bit of planning now with a baby in tow. I had to grieve the stay-at-home-kid time that had passed for Ari and me, even though it had been such a huge challenge while it existed. It surprised me, this grieving. And Ari's simultaneous grieving surprised me even more.

And then, one day out of the blue, he brightly bid me "'bye!" over his shoulder and skipped in the door without a backward glance. He stopped fussing over his clothes and crying on the couch. The morning toy selection still takes a while but it now happens cheerfully instead of desperately. And a couple days ago he told me, "I love my school. I have fun at my school."

Ah, how one wiggles into a new role. Rolling, nudging, turning around until it feels snug and comfortable once again. For some, apparently, this happens easier than others.

Change. With each big change, several smaller changes trail behind. You would think that, after having so much change occur in my life, I'd be a bit more savvy to all it entails (more savvy than, say, a three year old). That I shouldn't be surprised by the peaks and troughs so much anymore. That in fact, I should be expecting them. But each time, I flounder through, learning as I go and trying not to berate myself for not having it more together. Slowly, I'm finding that forgiveness must walk hand-in-hand with change.

The changes will keep on coming. May grace and forgiveness follow alongside.

Bam, Bam, Bam!

Ari's newest favorite activity involves the bottom half of a white turkey baster (which he calls his "white thing"). He carries this around the house, aiming it at various objects and/or beings and shouts out "bam, bam, bam, bam!" with a vicious little battle face.

He is playing "guns".

He is three years old.

Being a pacifist and also knowing and loving someone who very nearly lost his life to gun violence, I am strongly unthrilled with this new development. But every time I express displeasure and disapproval and try to explain "why we don't shoot at people with turkey basters or anything else", it only seems to ignite his passion as he merrily proclaims, "Yes we do! Yes we do! I like it!". What am I to do? This kid has a vicious streak that no one but his parents seem to notice. The parents of all his little cronies think he's "so sweet, so cute" while I know there's a tiny little anarchist inside him, busy exercising his second amendment rights and honing his skills of argument. Sometimes I'm at a loss for how to guide him at home without the use of a firm hand on the backside...and how could that help as that, itself, is violence?

Sascha believes that guns are an unavoidable essence of boyhood (cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, etc.) and, while he doesn't encourage the behavior, he also does not discourage it. Although, I take that back as, just today, I heard Sascha exclaim, "bam bam bam" in response to Ari's turkey baster report. So, no help from that quarter.

I staunchly disagree that guns are innate to boys. And even if it were, for God's sake he's three. He's been on this earth all of thirty-six months. I doubt that's enough time for his little gun-totin' chromosomes to kick in. So that begs the question, in a gun-free, non-hunting, non-ghetto-urban household, where did he learn that "guns are fun"?

I believe the answer is three-fold: the older and very crazy boys he hung out with this summer; the video games they taught him to play; and Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, The Adventure Begins. Damn that movie and the fact that we bought it for him, I had no idea...

So what's a mom to do with a son who shoots at her and then argues and yells when she tries to explain about not hurting people? Well, she says, "Don't shoot at me, I don't like it" quite a bit. She would like to move, preferably to Switzerland. She plans on hiding or chucking that damned Buzz Lightyear movie and his turkey baster. And finally, she is wondering if three years old is too young for a talk about death and how shooting people makes them go away forever.

Any thoughts?

she's got a hat

The Things We Say, Revisited

You may bring one toy with you. One. I said one. No, one. One or none. One or none. Oh, okay, none then. ... ah, that's what I thought.

You have five minutes left before we turn off the TV and get in the car. Four minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes left, babe. One minute. Okay, I'm turning the TV off now. Ari, I gave you five minutes. No, the five minutes are now over, you don't get five more minutes. You may walk to the car or I can carry you. Well then use your legs to get off the couch and walk if you don't want me to carry you. Okay then.

No, don't eat the napkin! (to the baby)

No, I don't want to play right now. It's my quiet time. It's your quiet time too.

Do you have a poop? You're still working on it? Remember if we wait too long it gets ouchie. Okay, you have five minutes to finish up what you're doing and then we change the diaper. Four minutes...etc. Time to change the diaper! Yes. Yes. It's time. You can walk or I can carry you. Well, I told you it would get ouchie if we waited. We have to clean it. I KNOW it's ouchie. I have to clean your penis, there's poop all over it. No, it's not naked time.