Deep Breaths

Earlier today my sister-in-law (the other Diane Snow) called and invited Lincoln and me to join her and her husband to listen to a band down at the Rose Garden. The Rose Garden is a bar here in town that is about 2 miles from our house.

Here's the thing. We didn't have a babysitter. So Diane (94)* volunteered her daughter Kayla to watch the kids.

Kayla is 11.

Yes, I started babysitting at 9. But Kayla is 11. And they're my kids. It's a whole different ball of wax, if you know what I mean.

I wanted to be okay with it. Kayla and her brother Kyle (age 17) are the most polite and most well-mannered kids that I've ever met but Kayla is still 11. E-L-E-V-E-N. It seemed old when I was 11 but now it seems like a baby.

And Jake agreed with me.

Jake LOVES Kayla. He calls her Kiki and she's one if his absolute favorite people in the entire world and yet when we told them she'd be babysitting he freaked out. He started crying and curled up in my lap and said "but won't there be an adult here!?!"

He freaked out so much I asked Lincoln if maybe there was something we didn't know that Jake was having some sort of sixth sense about. We decided to brave it and wrote down the number of the Rose Garden along with the number for Daddy's cell phone and 911.

Yes, I felt the need to clarify the number for 911.

At dinner we went over the rules with the kids and what was acceptable and what wasn't. I told them they should stop and think, "Would Mommy or Daddy say no to this?" before they did anything. It was all worked out and yet as we drove down the driveway I panicked that I didn't know if Kayla knew the Heimlich or not.

I'm usually a fairly laid back parent. When Hannah was less than 6 weeks old I used to leave her with a 12-year old while I went to the grocery store but I was a wee bit freaked out tonight. Kayla is really good with the kids but sometimes they get a little crazy. And Kayla was playing with Jake the night he split his head open jumping down the stairs a few years ago. It certainly wasn't her fault - and I was home at the time - but my nightmare is that he does it again while we're gone and no one is here to drive him the hospital.

Justin and Diane came down to drop Kayla off at 8:15 and I ended up quoting Spiderman. Lincoln would have been so proud of me. I said "With great power comes great responsibility." On top of that I said "Being in charge doesn't mean being bossy. It means being responsible."

Me, the most laid back parent in the universe was having a minor panic attack.

Even Diane (94) was making fun of me.

Me: We even went over fire plans with them. If there is a fire they're all supposed to meet at the apple tree.

Diane (94): Good God. Did you tell them what to do if someone breaks into the house too?

Me: Yes. They're supposed to hide in Hannah's walk-in closet.

Lincoln: And take the phone with them!

Originally I had given a timeline to Lincoln of one and a half hours....that was as long as we were to be gone. We had left the phone number for the Rose Garden (cell phones don't really work in downtown Upton) and had also taught Hannah how to text Daddy from Mommy's phone which we had left at home (texts come through but not phone calls) but I was still a wee bit nervous. Lincoln told me to do a shot when we got to the bar to loosen up but I didn't. I did, however, last an extra hour and we were home after 2 1/2 hours.

We came home and walked in the door to find Jake fast asleep - in his room no less! - and Hannah declaring Kayla to be "the best babysitter ever!"

It's amazing to me to think back to my childhood and how I started babysitting so young but now I'm a wreck when someone who is only 11 babysits my kids. Perspective on these things seriously change as you become older. It truly is amazing to view your own childhood through the lens of a parent. I always marvel at what freedom my parents gave me and how important it is to let my own kids have the same freedom.....it's just that much harder when they're your own.

*Diane (94) is my sister-in-law of the same name that lives on the same street. Her house number is 94 while ours is 106 so therefore she is referred to as Diane (94).

Mother vs. Wife

Tonight I was watching a rerun of Law & Order where a man was in a coma and his mother was the one that was flown to NYC to sit by his side. They established at the beginning of the episode that he was married and had a child. So here is my question....when a grown adult is married who should be the one to have privileges in a situation like that? As a mother I would want to be the one by their bedside and I would feel it is my right as the woman who brought them into the world and raised them to adulthood, but as a wife I would fight my mother-in-law tooth and nail if she tried to usurp my spot at Lincoln's bedside.

I posed this question to Lincoln and of course he approached it from a logical stand point of "who do you belong to now." He feels that as a spouse you are now the most important person in the individuals life. And if he was the one in the hospital I fully agree. I argued that if it was Jake or Hannah that was in the hospital I would want to be the one there with them.

Lincoln: Well sure, if it's Jake or Hannah now.

Me: But what about when they're married?

Lincoln: Well then it would be the spouse. They would "belong" to their spouse.

Me: I'm sorry but no interloper in this family is going to take my spot by their bedside.

Lincoln: Wow. Interloper.....

Let this post serve as warning to anyone thinking of marrying into this family....don't mess with Mama Bear.

And Gail, I love you but I get to be at Lincoln's bedside if anything were to happen to him.

Yes. I expect it both ways.

Can't they just stay little forever?

I'm sure that is the question that many parents ask. I'm not ready for them to grow up. And it's not because I'm not ready for them to grow up and move on. I'm not ready to deal with the things that will face them when they are teenagers. The pamphlet that I picked up recently at the doctor's office says that by Hannah's 8th birthday (this coming August!) I should have already talked to her about the basics of sex and what will happen to her during puberty. That was enough to send me reeling. I always thought I'd be the "cool" parent who could openly talk to her kids about these things but just the thought of talking to Hannah made me question my "coolness". I can handle puberty. It's the boys and sex and all that stuff that makes me nervous. And granted she doesn't need to know all about that by the age of 8 but she definitely needs to know about it well before she turns 16 and with as fast as the first 8 years went I'm sweating a little about the next few years. And when do you do it? When is too early and when is it a matter of shutting the barn doors after the horses have already gotten out? And every generation seems to get into these matters years before the previous generation so I take into consideration my experiences, deduct a few years, and pray. Maybe she'll be a late bloomer. Judging how she's already making googly eyes at the boys in the park and Mikey I'm worried that might not be the case. And what about those darn boys! Even if she's a little angel you have to worry about all those little reprobates running around. Lincoln and I were discussing this tonight, in a round about way, when Hannah was walking around with her glasses on.

Me: I'm very worried about the fact that "boys will make passes at girls that have glasses" in Hannah's case.

Lincoln: The nerdy sexy look?

Me: Yeah, the naughty librarian.

And before any of you get creeped out that we think that about our daughter, we don't. She just looks that much more adorable with her glasses on and at no time in the next 10 years or so (at least!) do we want any boys to think our daughter is adorable, or worse yet, sexy.

And if it's not sex, it's drugs. Or if it's not drugs, it's bullying. And if it's not bullying, it's depression. My mother forwarded me an email from some of their good friends from when we lived in Arkansas and awhile back their 19 year old son committed suicide. While teenage suicide is absolutely tragic and alarming in any family this shocked me by how completely unexpected it was. His friends said he sounded normal and fine the day before. He had plans for the weekend. He had told his dad that he'd like to speak to a counselor but his dad got him an appointment in less than 24 hours and he still never made it there. I mean, how do you know? How can you save your kids when there are no signs? How do you protect them from every evil both internal and external, seen and unseen, life threatening and merely life altering?

How on God's green earth does anyone grow up to be a normal, well-adjusted adult? All I want is for my children to grow up healthy, safe, and happy knowing that they're loved and that they're happy with the decisions that they've made throughout their lives. I may not love everything that I've done in the past but overall I'm pretty comfortable with my life and my life experiences.

My parents were great parents. Still are, of course. I remember my mom's greatest words of wisdom, which I plan on pulling out in a few years, was "Just let us know what is going on. We know you'll be faced with things over the next few years (i.e. drinking, boys, etc.) and that is to be expected but it will be easier for us to deal with any situations that arise if we know where you are and what you're doing." I'm sure that's not exactly how the conversation went down but it's what I remember. And I always thought of that throughout my teenage years. That and my dad's words of wisdom whenever I went on a date: "Don't disgrace the family." I may not have always told my parents what was going on.... I adopted more of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy... but I was never bad. I never went crazy. I knew my parents were always there for me. I also knew that if I got knocked up or married while in college I was responsible for my own tuition and that put the fear of God in me but that's besides the point.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess life is just a constant fear from the moment you first have children. I just hope that Lincoln and I can get Jake and Hannah through this with as much success as possible.

More importantly, at what age is it appropriate to send Hannah to live in a convent?

Trust issues and scaring the shit out of myself

Jake and Hannah have always treated injuries and illnesses very differently. Jake rarely complains about a stomach ache unless he's trying to get out of going to school. Hannah treats every injury as though she is on her death bed. Jake barely put up a fuss when he split his head open and required two staples in the back of his skull. Hannah always has chronic complaints about her stomach, her head, and her ankles that seem to have no real symptoms. No fever, no swelling, etc. Nothing concrete. It becomes hard to believe her. Does she really have an issue? Is she just overly sensitive? Is she looking for attention? It's definitely a fine line. You don't want to ignore her because what if it really is something serious? On the other hand, I don't want to be in the pediatrician's office every other day.

Her headaches sort of started out this way. My rule of thumb for something I can't see is how often, and how consistently, does she complain about it. If she's hobbling around on a "hurt" ankle but then gets distracted and runs off with her friends I assume she's fine. The headaches though have been fairly consistent but even they have their ups and downs. After I took her to the pediatrician and he thought it was the fact that she was grinding her teeth she seemed to notice that she was clenching or grinding all the time and she said when she stopped her headaches were better. Then we went to the dentist who said it had nothing to do with her teeth and I didn't hear her complaining very much about it anymore. I thought maybe it had disappeared and it had, no pun intended, all been in her head. I still didn't want to ignore it entirely which is why I've made the eye doctor and neurology appointments.

Which brings me to today....

The school nurse doesn't usually call me if Hannah has a headache. Hannah's teacher and I discussed the headaches a few weeks ago and she said that she usually just lets Hannah sit in a quiet corner when she complains of headaches and they eventually go away. Here is what concerned me about today. In the email Mrs. B said that Hannah "had trouble seeing the paper". Notice she doesn't say she had trouble "reading" the paper. So of course my mind runs wild. On one hand I think to myself that I'm glad she had vision problems today because then at Saturday's appointment the eye doctor will probably tell me she needs glasses and we'll call it a day. On the other hand, and this is where my mind goes to a very dark place way too easily, I envision the eye doctor telling me that Hannah has a tumor pressing on her eye ball or something like that. It could happen. You hear those stories all the time on telethons.

I called Hannah once she got to Grandma and Grandpa's house this afternoon to ask her about it.

Me: Hey there sweetie. I hear you had a headache at school again today.

Hannah: Yeah.

Me: Mrs. B said you had trouble seeing the paper in Music class.

Hannah: Yeah.

Me: Can you tell me a little bit about it so that I can tell the doctor on Saturday?

Hannah: I couldn't see the paper.

Me: What do you mean? Were the words blurry?

Hannah: No, they weren't blurry.

Me: Why couldn't you see them? Did you see spots or anything else in front of your eyes?

Hannah: I saw spots.

Me: What kind of spots? Were they white spots? Or black?

Hannah: Black spots.

Me: Were there a lot of little black spots? Or one big black spot?

Hannah: No, big black spots.

Okay, that makes me nervous. I try not to "lead" her with these questions but on the other hand, getting information out of her without asking specific questions is impossible. When she comes home from school each day and you ask "What did you do today?" she says "I don't remember" but if you say "Who did you sit with at lunch?" or "What did you do in Science?" or "Did you play with anyone at Recess?" then she'll tell you "Cassie", "we learned stuff", and "yes" but you still have to pry any additional info out of her.

I don't think of myself as a hypochondriac. I didn't got into my dentist's office and say "I have a white spot in my mouth....do you think it's cancer?" but when my dentist finds it and says "it's probably nothing but it could be pre-cancerous if left untreated" then yes, my mind definitely envisions the worst case scenario even if I truly believe it's nothing. Same with Lincoln's mole. I'm not obsessively checking his back every night looking for cancerous moles but now that the doctor said that she "didn't like the looks of one" I will admit I'm a little worried. I just like to get the "all clear" from professionals.

I'm sure that Hannah's headaches are just because of eye strain but until I hear that from the eye doctor herself I will continue to have the occasional "what if" moment. The fact that all three of these things are happening at the same time makes me feel like I'm a total nut job that is overreacting to everything.

Watch.....it will turn out that the three of us are fine and it's really Jake, the only one not seeing a specialist these days, that has the secret, deadly illness.

I'm just kidding.....sort of.

A Happy Childhood?

What makes a happy childhood?

I have actually pondered this question quite a bit. I loved my childhood....especially the first eleven years when I lived in Iowa. Once we moved to Seattle it became a little dicey....I didn't not like my childhood then but it was certainly different. It wasn't quite as carefree or as innocent. I didn't have friends that I had known since birth. I was entering my pre-teen years.....

But what makes my childhood any better than someone else's childhood? Lincoln grew up here in Upton. As far as I know he enjoyed his childhood. And yet I look at my children and I wonder if I'm depriving them of a wonderful childhood by not raising them in Decorah. We've talked about moving there before. We once said that if either one of us lost our job that would be our sign that we should move to Iowa. Lincoln lost his job and I immediately started looking at houses online, contacting a realtor, and planning trips back there to buy a house. I wasn't entirely sure that it was what I wanted to do but at the same time I was excited to move back. Then Lincoln's company realized they had made a mistake in laying him off and they hired him back....at a higher rate of pay and letting him keep the generous severance package he had received....and the idea of moving to Iowa was dead. The next time he got "laid off" (actually his Boston office closed and he was offered a chance to work for the Indianapolis office) we didn't even consider moving because it was a bad time for us. Now that Lincoln has started his own company, and it is off to an excellent start, he has no desire to move. And I'm happy here....I love my job (most days) and I'm involved with the PTO and I have friends here....but I still sometimes feel like I'm robbing my children of the ideal childhood. And who knows what Decorah is like now. I left when I was two months shy of eleven years old. It was 1988 and now it's 2009. As idyllic as the town seems when we go back there on vacation I know it's not the same as the time when I grew up.

As hard as it could be when I was moving around while I grew up I came to value the fact that I moved around as a child. Since we always moved in the early summer, and I was a late summer baby, I always view our moves in "I was almosts". We moved from Iowa to Seattle when I was almost 11. We moved from Seattle to Arkansas when I was almost 15. I moved from Arkansas to Minnesota when I was almost 18. I moved from Minnesota to Boston when I was almost 22.

When I was in college I did a Sociology paper on the benefits of moving as a child. I felt I was more extroverted and possibly more open to the possibilities of the world around me because I hadn't lived in one location all my life. I'm glad I didn't grow up entirely in the bubble of a small town in Iowa and yet now that I'm an adult I miss that bubble. I miss the promise of what my mind has created. Would I have been happy had I never moved from Iowa? Would I be as excited about traveling the world and seeing different parts of America if I had never moved from Iowa? Who knows.

But what about my children? Are they enjoying their childhood? Are they having as great of a childhood as I remember mine being in my mind? Is every childhood a great childhood as long as it's free from abuse, neglect, and hunger? Am I doing everything I can for them to have a great childhood? I think they are enjoying their life here in Upton but I just hope every day that I'm not depriving them of the great childhood that I had. For example, every year there is a Loyalty Day Parade here in Upton where the children involved in baseball walk from the school down to the VFW. There are no floats....just the kids walking and throwing candy, and it pales in comparison to the huge parades that Decorah had for Homecoming and Nordic Fest and yet my kids seem to enjoy it just as much. Personally I think they're getting the short end of the stick but they don't seem to.

What makes a great childhood? And is their childhood great enough? If they think their childhood is great does it matter that it's not as great as mine was? What makes it great? Experience? Comparisons? Is it okay if it is their ideal even if it isn't mine?

At our wit's end

For seven years Lincoln and I have prided ourselves on the successful parenting of Hannah. She has been a fairly easy child despite her recent insistence on dressing herself and wearing knee high socks with capri pants. She is fairly easy to discipline because she hates to disappoint us. While she has certainly gotten into trouble over the years for the most part all we have to do is tell her "Hannah, you've really disappointed us" and she never does it again.

Jake is another story. Nothing gets through to this kid and right now he is really pushing the limits. We are trying to potty train him and he's not handling it very well. Jake doesn't like change. Every spring it's a battle to get him into sandals and out of his boots. In the fall it's a battle to get him out of his sandals and into his boots. Same goes with winter coats vs. lighter jackets. Buy him a new pair of shoes and it's a nightmare getting him to wear them but once you do, they are his absolute favorites and if you try to buy him a new pair he will pitch a fit. Maybe that's why this potty training thing isn't going so well. It's a big change.

This past week has been the worst. Three days a week he goes to Grandma and Grandpa's house. Apparently Jake got so bad by Wednesday that he was pitching a fit every time Grandma asked him to try and go potty. Every time she'd ask him he'd sit down and pee or poop in his pants. After that Lincoln and I decided we'd try a different approach and do less disciplining about accidents and more of the "coddling" style parenting. Yesterday was a good day. He stayed dry pretty much all day (until an unavoidable accident at the playground where there was no bathroom) and he didn't pitch any fits. I thought the new softer approach to parenting might be working.

And then today happened. Today he went to daycare and got sent home with a note that not only had he pushed a kid off the slide, he slapped another kid across the face. WHAT? Or as the note said, "Jacob had a very difficult day today. He was very aggressive with his friends."

Obviously we've been spoiled by Hannah. Lincoln and I don't know what to do. We've tried time-outs. We've tried taking away his favorite things. We've tried spanking. Nothing seems to get through to this kid. I know we'll get through this. We just have to figure out the best path through, over, under, or around this obstacle.

Either way, I am totally saving this note from school and putting it in his scrapbook. If he grows up to be some sweet, sensitive man we can say "look how you were as a kid". If he grows up to be a convict we can enter it into evidence during his first trial.

Parenting Dilemma

One of the things I have serious trouble with as a parent is watching my children do standard childhood things that are actually very dangerous. We have a rock climbing "wall" as part of their playset, as well as a fairly steep ladder that goes up to the slide, and each time I watch Jake climb either one my heart leaps into my throat and I have visions of him falling. We also have these huge rocks on our property and Hannah has just recently discovered how fun they are to climb. Watching her scamper over them makes me want to throw up. She is allowed to climb them by herself (although an adult has to be outside with her) and Jake is only allowed to climb them with an adult by his side. One part of me wants to say "get down off there...you are never climbing those rocks/wall/ladder again" but deep down I know that doing those things are how they learn to be confident, strong adults and not scared, nervous wrecks. Besides, what kind of childhood is it if all they do is sit inside and/or stay on the ground. I tell myself "What's the worst that can happen? They'll fall, get a few scratches, maybe break a bone but all that stuff can be fixed and then they've learned a lesson". Of course then my mind starts to wander and I think of all the ways they can fall in just a certain way and end up paralyzed or dead. What I've decided is that it's just easier not to watch. You send them out into the big, bad world and hope that all your "be carefuls" and "make sure you pay attention to what you're doing" has sunk into their conscience. I would rather not watch it happen so I go outside with them, sit with my back to it (peeking over my shoulder every now and then), and sit there cringing while I wait to hear a scream and a thump. Of course, my preference is to send Lincoln out with them and let him deal with it.

Parenting Dilemma

When it comes to medical issues my two children could not be more different. If Hannah gets a papercut we hear about it for a week. Jake split his head open on New Year's Eve, spent 3 hours in the ER, got 2 staples in his head and barely cried.

Anyway, Hannah has been complaining about her ankle lately. At first I figured she had just twisted it while playing and it would clear itself up. Then she kept bringing it up so I figured it might be "growing pains". She occasionally gets those in her knees when she's going through a growth spurt. But she's still complaining about it so I'm taking her to the doctor tomorrow.

I have no idea what it could be but if the doctor tells me she's been walking around for 3 weeks with a serious problem in her ankle I'm going to feel like a really shitty mom.

Parenting Dilemma

Today is Thursday which means that it is piano day for Hannah. Over the last three years Hannah has taken ballet and tap dance and also dabbled in various other extra-curricular activities. She has taken classes in gymnastics, ice skating, soccer, spanish, and now Little League among other things. We let her try a little bit of everything and let her quit when it is over if she wants to. The only requirements we have is that we try to limit them to only 2 activities at a time and she has to see each session through to the end and completely finish her commitment. Only twice have I really struggled with this as a parent. Piano is one of them. She really hates practicing and I hate having to force it each week. She's terribly nervous about her recital coming up in about 6 weeks and she tries to talk Daddy into letting her skip her lesson every Thursday. The reason I'm struggling with this one is that I hated practicing piano when I was young but as an adult I really wish that I had stuck with it. Where do you find the balance between encouraging your child to develop a life long skill and forcing them to do something you wish you had done as a kid? The good news is that she's very young still and if she drops piano now she can always come back to it later. At least that's what I keep telling myself.