Saturday, July 28, 2012

You Should Probably Know...

The following post is inspired by an amazing NPR series called This I Believe.

A spectacular fellow teacher introduced the series to me and we taught a full writing unit around it.  I have since become obsessed with an essay by Anne Donahue called "Some Things You Should About Your Mother."

Every child deserves to know their parents like this.  Every parent should give their kids a little something that may surprise them, might make them laugh or shake their heads.  Something that might help them realize something about their parents, know them a little better, connect some dots.  Might comfort them one day.

And so... for my boys.

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Some Things You Should Know About Your Mama:

I still eat Ants on a Log (aka: celery with peanut butter and a line of raisin "ants" down the center).  Regularly.  I'm eating it right now.   So there.

I have a minor obsession with puffer fish.  They're perpetually smiling, dude.  It's cute.  Yes it is.  Quit arguing.

I sing "Oh Holy Night" loudly (and year round) when I'm by myself to see if I can hit the high note.  I usually can't.

I believe love is the most important thing in the world and, even when it's hard, you should fight for it.

Coffee LITERALLY saves my life (and yours) some days.  I'm pretty sure I wouldn't survive without it.  It makes me nicer.

The first CD I ever bought with my own money was The Violent Femmes.  The first concert I ever went to?  Official answer: REM at The Gorge.  Unofficial answer: weird but awesome bluegrass festival with my parents in I Have No Idea, Idaho.

I worry.  A lot.  Sorry.

I apologize.  A lot.  Sorry.

I cannot make a simple decision to save my life.  If it's important, I can usually reach down deep and locate my decisiveness, but ask me what we should have for dinner and you'll have a 20 minute contemplation on your hands.

I believe there are very few real and talented DJs out there- people who actually teach you about music- but John Richards and DJ Riz on KEXP are the real McCoy.  I'm a dork.  Whatever.  I love them.  Listen.

I'm stubborn to the core, but rarely admit it.  'Cause I'm stubborn.  See how that works?

I have two favorite words.  My favorite word for the sound of it: malarkey.  My favorite word because it sounds horrible, but isn't: pulchritude.  I rarely use either of them.

I could eat Mexican food every day of my life and never, ever get tired of it.

My bark is infinitely worse than my bite.

I will hug you and ruffle your hair and want to snuggle and poke you in the elbow for the rest of your lives.  I'm touchy.  Deal with it.  (I'll try to restrain myself when you're in middle school.)

I'm a sucker for a good, bad sci-fi movie.

I could sit and stare at a body of water for hours.  I've done it.  I intend to do it many more times.

I believe the right story will live with you forever.

I hate change.  I'm working on it.

I love you boys with every ounce of my being.  I hope you always know that.  And I will continue to try not to annoy you too much.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Please Make the Lambs Stop Screaming

I just experienced my first full-on, committed, psychotic, no-holds-barred, kicking, screaming, hysterical big boy tantrum two days ago.  It lasted 40 minutes.  And it started because I wouldn't give him free reign with the squeegee in the shower.

So he kicked the shower walls and threw his towel on the shower floor.  Then it escalated because the towel I gave him to replace the now soaking-wet one was too small.  The Too Small Towel tantrum lasted a full 20 minutes on its own.  Then it escalated further when he finally went to use the too-small towel and realized that he was already dry (having air-dried whilst tantruming).  So then the tantrum became a Where Are My Drips; I Need New Drips tantrum.

(FYI: Attempting to explain evaporation to a screaming, kicking, writhing 3 year old is not effective.  The more you know.)

Finally I decided that I just needed to get him in bed, at which point getting him dressed for bed turned it into the I Need To Go Hide tantrum.  Because naked hiding is, apparently, the only logical option when one's towel is too small and one has no drips.

Round two happened yesterday.  This one was over blueberry yogurt.  It lasted 35 minutes.  Apparently we are making progress?

Holy shit.  I have no idea what is happening, but it is highly unpleasant.

(Ed. Note: The title of this post is stolen directly from the mouth of a good friend and fellow mama.)