Monday, May 20, 2013
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Navigating the Xbox Jungle
"I've had it!"
"That's it!"
"Turn that off!
"Do I have to come down there?!"
I've had what amounts to a pretty much daily routine since Santa brought the Xbox to my house a few years ago. I gave Kris Kringle permission, and now I want to kick myself.
If I'm not fighting about my three teen boys being glued to it, then they fight with each other over it. Even when they are playing the same game!
Of course, when it's quiet you can expect they are staring, slack-jawed and drooling at the screen where various aliens, robots, bad guys live in virtual reality and must be destroyed at all costs.
"It's not real guys!" I often exclaim when they swear the can't turn it off because they will "lose the campaign."
Another little treat I discovered the hard way, is - those little stinkers on the other end can hear me when I'm doing my crazy dance! How did I find out? When my friend explained the kids' friends were "in the party" while I was dropping F-bombs in a fit of frustration. The boys thought it was hilarious. I realized that's one way for me to learn to watch my mouth.
But the thing is, they love to play and they hang out with their friends on Xbox Live talking the same way we did as teens. We do have limits I consistently try to enforce and there's nothing like getting a kid to clean a room and bring down the laundry by withholding game time.
They also have requirements like homework done first and good grades. They have to walk the mile home from school and participate in a sport/activity once a week also.
But still, unless I make those demands, they would stay in the dungeon slaying their dragons all day long.
Recently, I send out an email to other Xbox-loathing mothers : If we sign all the boys up for basketball after school there will be no one online to play! So I threw out the challenge and wouldn't you know it, the moms banded together and the boys are shooting hoops now!
Like I tell my kids: "The mom's know what's going on around here."
Not only that, we know how to engage in battle too. And win.
"That's it!"
"Turn that off!
"Do I have to come down there?!"
I've had what amounts to a pretty much daily routine since Santa brought the Xbox to my house a few years ago. I gave Kris Kringle permission, and now I want to kick myself.
If I'm not fighting about my three teen boys being glued to it, then they fight with each other over it. Even when they are playing the same game!
Of course, when it's quiet you can expect they are staring, slack-jawed and drooling at the screen where various aliens, robots, bad guys live in virtual reality and must be destroyed at all costs.
"It's not real guys!" I often exclaim when they swear the can't turn it off because they will "lose the campaign."
Another little treat I discovered the hard way, is - those little stinkers on the other end can hear me when I'm doing my crazy dance! How did I find out? When my friend explained the kids' friends were "in the party" while I was dropping F-bombs in a fit of frustration. The boys thought it was hilarious. I realized that's one way for me to learn to watch my mouth.
But the thing is, they love to play and they hang out with their friends on Xbox Live talking the same way we did as teens. We do have limits I consistently try to enforce and there's nothing like getting a kid to clean a room and bring down the laundry by withholding game time.
They also have requirements like homework done first and good grades. They have to walk the mile home from school and participate in a sport/activity once a week also.
But still, unless I make those demands, they would stay in the dungeon slaying their dragons all day long.
Recently, I send out an email to other Xbox-loathing mothers : If we sign all the boys up for basketball after school there will be no one online to play! So I threw out the challenge and wouldn't you know it, the moms banded together and the boys are shooting hoops now!
Like I tell my kids: "The mom's know what's going on around here."
Not only that, we know how to engage in battle too. And win.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Who would have thought a good night's sleep would rest on the shoulders of the family dog?
It took a therapist to explain why my children weren’t sleeping well a few years ago.
The family dog had died a few months before. Right before our eyes, one night, she lay down and beseechingly took her last breath. How heartbreaking it was to watch her hold onto us as the children cried out for her not to leave.
But, as the human spirit heals it moves on. The kids became accustomed to her absence, or so I thought.
The kids weren’t sleeping well, I learned, because their nighttime ritual had been disturbed. For as long as they could remember, our yellow lab had been a bedtime reading pillow and provided a long lick goodnight. Each child had a slight variations to the routine, but it was impossible for any of them to head to bed without saying goodnight to Boise.
Humans are creatures of habit, which is why it takes so long to kick a bad one out of town. And when a good habit, ritual or routine is disturbed, so is daily life.
It was the final nudge for me to get a new dog, and to this day, no one in this house can hit the hay without a visit from the dog to say buenas noches. Sometimes the routine can drag on for what seems like hours, with pleas of return visits because they didn’t get a really good kiss from the black lab mix we rescued almost two years ago.
I can't blame them. Even I can’t rest easy until I hear the jingle of dog tags creep into the room and set down on the floor.
I know plenty of families who resist getting a pet because of the mess or the responsibility. I'll be the first to say that sometimes I just want the floor free of fur or to take off without finding someone to take the dog for a long weekend.
But then I think of how lost we were without our canine companion for those few months in between dogs. Something about a pet calms us, adds to the family dynamic and teaches life lessons without even trying.
Recently, a big ol' St. Bernard we had come to love passed away. But before she did, my kids asked to go say goodbye and to show support to the dog's "humans." It touched many a human heart that day and I'm proud that they've learned empathy and how to express it through their love of animals.
As a good friend pointed out to me, children can be more grounded and empathetic when they grow up with animals. They learn how to feed, clean up, help, love and, eventually, let go.
reposted from Suffield.patch.com July 19, 2011
The family dog had died a few months before. Right before our eyes, one night, she lay down and beseechingly took her last breath. How heartbreaking it was to watch her hold onto us as the children cried out for her not to leave.
But, as the human spirit heals it moves on. The kids became accustomed to her absence, or so I thought.
The kids weren’t sleeping well, I learned, because their nighttime ritual had been disturbed. For as long as they could remember, our yellow lab had been a bedtime reading pillow and provided a long lick goodnight. Each child had a slight variations to the routine, but it was impossible for any of them to head to bed without saying goodnight to Boise.
Humans are creatures of habit, which is why it takes so long to kick a bad one out of town. And when a good habit, ritual or routine is disturbed, so is daily life.
It was the final nudge for me to get a new dog, and to this day, no one in this house can hit the hay without a visit from the dog to say buenas noches. Sometimes the routine can drag on for what seems like hours, with pleas of return visits because they didn’t get a really good kiss from the black lab mix we rescued almost two years ago.
I can't blame them. Even I can’t rest easy until I hear the jingle of dog tags creep into the room and set down on the floor.
I know plenty of families who resist getting a pet because of the mess or the responsibility. I'll be the first to say that sometimes I just want the floor free of fur or to take off without finding someone to take the dog for a long weekend.
But then I think of how lost we were without our canine companion for those few months in between dogs. Something about a pet calms us, adds to the family dynamic and teaches life lessons without even trying.
Recently, a big ol' St. Bernard we had come to love passed away. But before she did, my kids asked to go say goodbye and to show support to the dog's "humans." It touched many a human heart that day and I'm proud that they've learned empathy and how to express it through their love of animals.
As a good friend pointed out to me, children can be more grounded and empathetic when they grow up with animals. They learn how to feed, clean up, help, love and, eventually, let go.
reposted from Suffield.patch.com July 19, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Is That Me On the Screen?
I had a hot date this weekend.
We went to the movies, munched popcorn and even cuddled a little. I paid. And I drove because he doesn’t have his license.
But he was a gentleman and held the door. his manners were polished. And I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
It’s not often that I get my 10-year-old son all to myself.
I try to schedule one-on-one time with my four kids, but sometimes the impromptu opportunity presents itself and Sunday was one of those moments.
So off we went, to see Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules.
Now I’ll confess, the book series by the same name hadn’t grabbed my attention, although it kept my three boys in stitches over the years at one time or another. They identified with the characters – a group of preteen boys living in modern day America and dealing with sibling rivalry, peer pressure, quirky parents and girls. And they grooved on the text and comic strip combination of story-telling.
According to my son, the movie is a little different from the books, but the gist is the same. The older brother tortures the younger one and he strives to survive.
Watching it, I suddenly saw that my own boys are not as old as they try to be. They too are struggling with embarrassing moments. And while I know that in my logical brain, it makes a difference when you are watching it on the big screen with your 5th-grader next to you.
But even more than gaining some insight into my own kids, I started to see some of myself onscreen.
I was surprised to see the mother character writes a parenting column for her local paper.
I myself have for years, in various publications, chronicled the cute and even dastardly deeds of my children.
And here this lady was talking about her great parenting skills that prove to be somewhat misguided, right under her nose! Could that be me?
Also, this mom just wants her kids to get along. So much so she devises a plan to force them together. She even pays them with fake money – mom bucks – a method I’ve been known to use too (that and the “you-will-all-write-each-other-a-letter-about-how-you-treasure-your-siblings-or-else-you-will-never-leave-this-room” approach).
She’s also constantly embarrassing her kid with her loving and well-intentioned behavior.
So when I leaned over and asked: “Am I like the mom in the movie?” I was not surprised by the answer.
My wonderful 10-year-old smiled his dimpled smile and rolled his eyes.
“Yes!” he whispered, incredulous that I even had to ask!
“Why?” I inquired further. “Because I write a newspaper column?”
“Yeah, kind of,” he held back.
My twins, 12, had also seen the movie that day for a friend’s birthday. They confirmed my suspicions at dinner that night.
“Am I like that mom in the movie?” I asked again.
These two just laughed. Had it been a movie scene they surely would have spit milk across the table.
“Why?” I asked as I began laughing as well. “Because I’m crazy-weird like her?”
“Yeah,” replied the twin who had stopped laughing long enough to speak. “You pay us in fake money!”
“And you are always trying make us get along,” added the other.
Hey, look at that! At least they are getting the message.
In the end, the mom accidentally forces the two brothers to count on each other for help and couldn’t be more pleased. She gets so into the music at her son’s band competition that she gets up and dances a dorky dance offstage which catches the attention of the audience.
She has no idea they are watching, but I think she may have not cared anyway – at least I know I wouldn’t.
FromMarch 29,2011 Patch.com
We went to the movies, munched popcorn and even cuddled a little. I paid. And I drove because he doesn’t have his license.
But he was a gentleman and held the door. his manners were polished. And I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
It’s not often that I get my 10-year-old son all to myself.
I try to schedule one-on-one time with my four kids, but sometimes the impromptu opportunity presents itself and Sunday was one of those moments.
So off we went, to see Diary of A Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules.
Now I’ll confess, the book series by the same name hadn’t grabbed my attention, although it kept my three boys in stitches over the years at one time or another. They identified with the characters – a group of preteen boys living in modern day America and dealing with sibling rivalry, peer pressure, quirky parents and girls. And they grooved on the text and comic strip combination of story-telling.
According to my son, the movie is a little different from the books, but the gist is the same. The older brother tortures the younger one and he strives to survive.
Watching it, I suddenly saw that my own boys are not as old as they try to be. They too are struggling with embarrassing moments. And while I know that in my logical brain, it makes a difference when you are watching it on the big screen with your 5th-grader next to you.
But even more than gaining some insight into my own kids, I started to see some of myself onscreen.
I was surprised to see the mother character writes a parenting column for her local paper.
I myself have for years, in various publications, chronicled the cute and even dastardly deeds of my children.
And here this lady was talking about her great parenting skills that prove to be somewhat misguided, right under her nose! Could that be me?
Also, this mom just wants her kids to get along. So much so she devises a plan to force them together. She even pays them with fake money – mom bucks – a method I’ve been known to use too (that and the “you-will-all-write-each-other-a-letter-about-how-you-treasure-your-siblings-or-else-you-will-never-leave-this-room” approach).
She’s also constantly embarrassing her kid with her loving and well-intentioned behavior.
So when I leaned over and asked: “Am I like the mom in the movie?” I was not surprised by the answer.
My wonderful 10-year-old smiled his dimpled smile and rolled his eyes.
“Yes!” he whispered, incredulous that I even had to ask!
“Why?” I inquired further. “Because I write a newspaper column?”
“Yeah, kind of,” he held back.
My twins, 12, had also seen the movie that day for a friend’s birthday. They confirmed my suspicions at dinner that night.
“Am I like that mom in the movie?” I asked again.
These two just laughed. Had it been a movie scene they surely would have spit milk across the table.
“Why?” I asked as I began laughing as well. “Because I’m crazy-weird like her?”
“Yeah,” replied the twin who had stopped laughing long enough to speak. “You pay us in fake money!”
“And you are always trying make us get along,” added the other.
Hey, look at that! At least they are getting the message.
In the end, the mom accidentally forces the two brothers to count on each other for help and couldn’t be more pleased. She gets so into the music at her son’s band competition that she gets up and dances a dorky dance offstage which catches the attention of the audience.
She has no idea they are watching, but I think she may have not cared anyway – at least I know I wouldn’t.
FromMarch 29,2011 Patch.com
Sometimes, I am the Old Lady in the Shoe
Really, it snuck up on me just like the transition from tubs of formula to jars of baby food.
Like when I turned away from a crawling baby only to spin back around to face a wobbly toddler.
When, I ask, did my four children start eating me out of house and home?
When did I go from one pound of meat resulting in leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch to nearly two pounds not being enough!
Once upon a time, a box of frozen waffles could last a week. Now it barely makes it through the morning A pound of bacon? Scarfed down like my yellow lab used to inhale a bowl of dog food.
Cookies? Fuggedaboutit. Anything with a chocolate chip doesn’t stand a long life in my house.
And ice cream? The scoop comes out and the cookie-dough devastation begins. When cartons shrunk a few years ago due to the milk crisis, the deal was sealed.
I’m back to the days when I used two grocery carts, one for the kids and one for the provisions. I’ll even go so far as to admit that sometimes the food was piled on top of the kids. Except now I need two grocery carts just for the food!
While the food is depleting at a rapid rate, other things in my home are increasing in size as the kids grow.
Laundry – no longer cute little piles of onesies and applesauce-stained bibs – has become enormous mountains of jeans and dirty t-shirts. A living organism, if you will, that no matter how much I throw into the washer, seems to replenish at the rate of gremlins.
There used to be a little pile of shoes in the bedrooms. Now, tiny sneakers have evolved into smelly clown-sized kicks. And kicked they are, all over the living room. According to the children, the boots and sneaks and loafers have all crawled to their random positions all on their own.
My dishwasher, once filled with tiny spoons, plastic sippy cups and bowls of discarded goldfish crackers and run a few times a week has morphed into a constant rotation of loading and unloading once or twice a day.
And then there are the problems. Those have grown too. It used to be the boo-boos were pinched fingers and scraped knees. Now they are related to misunderstood friendship rules, challenging homework and worries about life and death.
I’ll admit I struggle to keep up with it all. There are times when it all gains so much momentum that I feel like I’m chasing a rolling rock down a steep hill.
But then at the end of the day, there are the other things that have grown: the fun memories, the personalities that make me laugh out loud and the stronger hugs that say goodnight at the end of the day.
And that is food for the soul.
From March 15,2011 Patch.com
Like when I turned away from a crawling baby only to spin back around to face a wobbly toddler.
When, I ask, did my four children start eating me out of house and home?
When did I go from one pound of meat resulting in leftovers for tomorrow’s lunch to nearly two pounds not being enough!
Once upon a time, a box of frozen waffles could last a week. Now it barely makes it through the morning A pound of bacon? Scarfed down like my yellow lab used to inhale a bowl of dog food.
Cookies? Fuggedaboutit. Anything with a chocolate chip doesn’t stand a long life in my house.
And ice cream? The scoop comes out and the cookie-dough devastation begins. When cartons shrunk a few years ago due to the milk crisis, the deal was sealed.
I’m back to the days when I used two grocery carts, one for the kids and one for the provisions. I’ll even go so far as to admit that sometimes the food was piled on top of the kids. Except now I need two grocery carts just for the food!
While the food is depleting at a rapid rate, other things in my home are increasing in size as the kids grow.
Laundry – no longer cute little piles of onesies and applesauce-stained bibs – has become enormous mountains of jeans and dirty t-shirts. A living organism, if you will, that no matter how much I throw into the washer, seems to replenish at the rate of gremlins.
There used to be a little pile of shoes in the bedrooms. Now, tiny sneakers have evolved into smelly clown-sized kicks. And kicked they are, all over the living room. According to the children, the boots and sneaks and loafers have all crawled to their random positions all on their own.
My dishwasher, once filled with tiny spoons, plastic sippy cups and bowls of discarded goldfish crackers and run a few times a week has morphed into a constant rotation of loading and unloading once or twice a day.
And then there are the problems. Those have grown too. It used to be the boo-boos were pinched fingers and scraped knees. Now they are related to misunderstood friendship rules, challenging homework and worries about life and death.
I’ll admit I struggle to keep up with it all. There are times when it all gains so much momentum that I feel like I’m chasing a rolling rock down a steep hill.
But then at the end of the day, there are the other things that have grown: the fun memories, the personalities that make me laugh out loud and the stronger hugs that say goodnight at the end of the day.
And that is food for the soul.
From March 15,2011 Patch.com
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
As a Mother to a Daughter
"While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about" – Angela Schwindt
“It’s good to be a girl,” declared my 8-year-old daughter last week.
She smiled from ear to ear as the stylist cut her hair into a shoulder-length bob with a slight flip. I smiled, too.
Sometimes, I think she doesn’t get that message enough. I don’t know if it’s because she has three older brothers or that society has already inundated her growing brain with innuendo. Maybe it’s other girls at school. Maybe it’s all of that.
But I know for sure she lacks the confidence in her gender identity, something the boys don’t have a problem with. Machismo is not in short supply at my house these days.
The other day I found her laying on the floor looking in a mirror at her stomach.
“This is how you know if you have a fat belly,” she explained.
Oh dear, I sighed. I sent her the message that being healthy is very important, not being skinny. Sometimes, girls get a little belly before they grow a few inches, I pointed out.
At this age, and pretty much throughout life, girls draw on their mother’s example. It’s both conscious and unconscious. I’ve always tried, maybe too hard, to stress the idea that beauty is inside. And I think she gets that.
But I want her to know that it’s perfectly fine to embrace being a girl, too. Taking care not to encourage vanity, I want her to know it’s not selfish to spend time and energy going for a manicure or pedicure. That exercise is good for her health and helps her feel good. That taking care of herself is not vanity, but self-love.
I want her to know that girlfriends make for important relationships. That shopping trips and dinners aren’t frivolous fun but bonding and research opportunities.
Women learn from other women. After all the competitive nonsense from her youth is behind her, female friendships are gems for later life.
I realize that now is the time to start using these teaching moments to get my message to the top of my daughter’s list of influences. The more I listen to her, the more I realize she is giving me the opportunities.
She’s been asking to go “spring shopping” and I’m thinking we need to make it a date. A little foraging and gathering can lead to discussions on appropriate clothing choices. A little lunch or a coffee break. Definitely some chocolate. Perhaps some new earrings.
You know what? My daughter is right. It is good to be a girl.
It's even better to be a mom to one.
---- This appeared in the April 12 edition of Suffield.Patch.com
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas Thanksgivings
Dear Santa,
I hope this Thank You Note finds you rested and well, since soon comes that sleepless night of reindeer and sleigh-ride. How kind of you to ride the stars each year to bring an often-hardened world a dash of childish wonder and hope.
For me this year was a wonderful year. By granting last year’s Christmas wish I was able to see the world anew. A fresh start, I asked for, remember Santa? New eyes with which to see my life, I requested.
And you granted me these things throughout the year: A chance to visit friends and family across the country. Time with my children - coaching soccer, helping at school, walks in the woods and splashing in the pool. Opportunities to make new friends and re-unite with old ones. Solid ground on which to stand steady. Confidence with which to pursue writing again.
I don’t know what the year ahead will bring. But this year, Santa, I wish for others to see the things I saw this year. Smiling faces, open and giving hearts, opportunity knocking, dreams fulfilled and magic.
And again, Santa, thank you for last year’s gift.
Thank you for my silver lining.
Many holiday hugs to you and the missus,
Wendy
I hope this Thank You Note finds you rested and well, since soon comes that sleepless night of reindeer and sleigh-ride. How kind of you to ride the stars each year to bring an often-hardened world a dash of childish wonder and hope.
For me this year was a wonderful year. By granting last year’s Christmas wish I was able to see the world anew. A fresh start, I asked for, remember Santa? New eyes with which to see my life, I requested.
And you granted me these things throughout the year: A chance to visit friends and family across the country. Time with my children - coaching soccer, helping at school, walks in the woods and splashing in the pool. Opportunities to make new friends and re-unite with old ones. Solid ground on which to stand steady. Confidence with which to pursue writing again.
I don’t know what the year ahead will bring. But this year, Santa, I wish for others to see the things I saw this year. Smiling faces, open and giving hearts, opportunity knocking, dreams fulfilled and magic.
And again, Santa, thank you for last year’s gift.
Thank you for my silver lining.
Many holiday hugs to you and the missus,
Wendy
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