Seen, not heard

So, because of a conversation with a friend who is trying to find a church where she can take her kids & focus on the church, not parenting her kids constantly, I was thinking of the old phrase "children should be seen and not heard."

Honestly? What a load of crap. This phrase has got to be a holdout from the days when middle to upper class folks all had nannys or servants who took their noisy kids away, and they saw them only on special ocassions, dressed pretty and told to be good. When people had a relationship with their nanny and/or maid and/or whatever you called it that was like what people should have with their mom and dad.

We took Sean & Maia to church this Christmas eve. We haven't really been to church since they were babies because the last time we tried, Sean was completely wigged out by the giant pipe organ. Too loud, too many people, too much. So we had skipped that Easter service (about two years ago now) and gone to the Riverwalk instead.

So on Christmas eve, we tried. Sean got a laugh when he "hooray"ed the bell choir and thought that was awesome, so kept making the "hooray" noise, even when it was time to not. Dad had to take him away. They had a good time driving around looking at Christmas lights and chilling while Maia and I stayed at church.

You know me-- I have about three minutes of tolerance for people staring at my son when he makes noises. He cannot help it, and I see every little glance, every frowny face, every whisper of "if he were my kid I'd whip him." You can glance at me once or twice, and then, if he's still making noise, yeah, it's STILL US. Thanks a lot for playing. And then I lose all concentration on whatever it is I'm supposed to be enjoying and focus only on every noise we are making, every wiggle, etc. I honestly am trying, usually, to keep him calm & quiet. But people don't notice that, they simply notice that their movie is not in perfect silence. I honestly wonder, sometimes, what it sounds like in their houses. It must be really, really quiet for our little noises to bother them so freakin' much.

And it really pisses me off that it's usually old ladies giving me the evil eye the most. Seriously woman? You're trying to imply that your kids (if you had them) were always perfect angels, who never made any noise, and we are just so rude to impose upon your perfectly orderly life for thirty seconds. What a load of crap. If one happens to have a naturally chill, naturally quiet kiddo who likes to be still and quiet, then consider yourself the exception. Usually, they want to do something FUN. And sitting quietly in some uncomfortable place, listening to some guy rant about something that doesn't make sense to us is NOT fun. (Why is it, actually, that we adults think it's fun? Maybe we've all been brainwashed....)

We have kids in this world for a lot of reasons. But mostly, we want to express our love for each other, to see a reflection of our spouses, our families, our love of humanity. And people, I hate to break it to you, but KIDS ARE NOISY. They don't know "the rules" and they sometimes can not hold still for five minutes. It doesn't mean they deserve to be hit, or punished. It means that you, the adult who is supposed to be intelligent and educated, need to chill the furgh out and remember that you were a kid too, and you probably wiggled. You probably made noise. You probably laughed too loud and cried when you were sad. You probably got bored easily. You might have danced when you were happy about a special food or a special something.

We should, as a general rule, not expect kids to act like grown ups. We grow up too fast as it is. Enjoying life should be what we do.

No one should be "seen and not heard." Using our voice and expressing our likes and dislikes should be what we all do. Yes, polite society should learn that there is a time and place for quiet. Yes, we need to teach our kids to behave in public situations. But we should also cut parents (and each other) some freakin' slack when it doesn't work. We've all been there. I know when the doctor's "appointment" is thirty minutes + past what it was supposed to be I want to scream and yell and roll around on the floor, too.

Anyway. This isn't about me-- nothing in particular happened to inspire this rant, but I challenge us all to be heard, sometimes. Not just seen. Having a voice, having a will of our own, is an important lesson. And I'd rather have kids running amok in my house, turning it totally upside down, every single day of the week. And if I forget that lesson as my children grow older and quieter, I hope someone smacks me.

Autism Boy

Tomorrow is our yearly review of Sean's progress.  He's been in the special early class for a little bit under a year now, and his teacher, who is amazing & wonderful (all three of the teachers in his class are) called me this morning to give me a head's up as to what we'd do tomorrow.  She tested him this morning to have benchmarks, and apparently on a big number of things, he is doing amazingly well.  It's very good to see real progress.  I know it, but sometimes when you know something as a parent at home, it doesn't reflect at the school.  So that's the good parts.  It is VERY exciting that he is doing as well as he is.

Then, this week, when we were in San Antonio, we were at a restaurant/bar that has this kid's play area.  Sean & Maia & one of our friend's daughters were playing outside, where we could all see them through the windows.  Sean is generally a very sweet boy; when he IS aggressive or something, there's usually a really good reason for it.  He pushes back when people push at him, in other words, but he doesn't usually instigate problems.  (I can see that he might; I'm not saying he's a perfect angel or anything). This is the main reason why I felt fine about letting them play outside while we were watching not right on top of them.

But something happened with this other, younger kid.  I don't know what it was; one of my friends was there and Sean had bumped her daughter, and the other kid had started crying around the same time.  Then, this group of people brought their daughter inside.  Did they say something to me?  No.  They just sat at their table and complained loudly, and looked pointedly at our table like we should know something.  Well, I couldn't see EVERYthing that happened, so I didn't know, but I had my guess that somehow, something had happened.  If they had said something, I would have tried to make it right. 

So I knew they were talking about us, and Sean, and I pointedly apologized, told them that he's usually a good kid, but that he has autism and sometimes he can get into trouble when he doesn't understand something.  The mom of the group sort of waved at me and said something like "that explains it" and seemed to accept my explanation.  But then the whole group of them left, and seemed agitated still, as though we were those clueless folks who did something terrible to their kid. I was sort of confused.

Look.  It's not that I think Sean's autism excuses seriously bad behavior.  And I DO watch him as carefully as I can, and if I had thought there would be a problem I would have been out there.  I wish the woman would have explained to me what happened so I could understand it better. 

We're trying.  Super hard, to make him understand, to make him be the sweet wonderful kid I know he is, I know he can be.  But as I have said before, why can't we give each other (parents) a freakin' break sometimes?  Figure that it's not necessarily neglect and cluelessness but that there is something, a variable, that you don't know. 

Anyway.  One step forward, one step back.  At least we're mostly breaking even around here.

What it Looks Like

So all week, I've been super tired in the morning when I get up and drag the kids, kicking and sometimes screaming, out of bed to get Sean to school by 8. He's done with that now for three weeks, which will be tough ones.

This morning, when I could have slept in myself, I'm not so tired. I guess it's because I can leave the kids in bed & do things on my own without them on top of me for a little while. This is a rare break for a mom of young kiddos. Often, they want to be on my lap while I type (difficult to do when you have kids as wiggly as mine.) Or they just want me to be sitting there, watching Thomas the Train with them, or outside playing in the yard with them. I do that most of the time, too, with very brief minutes stolen away to check FB (it keeps me feeling connected to an adult world.)

But Andrew works pretty damn hard nowadays (and here in a minute is where the title will come in.) He gets up most mornings at about 5:30, 6:00 and heads to work, where he is all day until at least 4. Then he works sporadically (his phone tends to go off every five minutes) on our various rental property issues. Especially right now with two of them vacant & needing tenants.

Earlier, I'm sitting at the computer with a cup of latte he very nicely made me, checking my FB while he finishes his morning routine. He's leaving and I'm asking him what his schedule will be like. I can tell he plans a pretty busy day as he contemplates his lunch, and when he might make it home.

I think of what it looks like I'll be doing today, all day. Sitting here, mucking around on the computer. Easy easy. But what dads don't see are the countless moments of chasing after a kid. Andrew's a GOOD one, helps out a ton, even does it himself now & then. And it's not like I'm Martha Stewart. Sometimes, when he comes home, the house is a bit of a wreck. But he doesn't see how much worse it COULD have been had I not caught the kid in the fridge after the eggs, or spilling green kool aid all over the house, or whatever interventions in 4 year old universe I will have to make today.

It looks easy, being me, from his waking up early, running all day perspective. I get a little more sleep, I get to sit here for a little while on the computer checking up on my friends. I can imagine how it seems. But I've also been the one at a workplace all day, too, and I know how different that is, what that feels like for a grown up, and how some days I really, really would trade with him. Let him stay home and be "dad" and me go to work all day.

Moms are never off work. Maybe when they're fourteen I'll have some time off. Maybe then I'll get an employee of the month plaque and my picture on a wall somewhere and a cool parking place. :) Something to look forward to, I'll bet. But I'll also bet some other suckup employee will sneak in there and get the plaque instead of me because that always happens to me.

Exercising my Feminism Muscles-- a little

I have a friend on Facebook who is passionate about blogging about feminist issues in a way I wish I still were. So I usually read her posts, even when I don't comment on them. In reading her blog today, I found a link I'm going to recommend in a minute.

It's interesting to see her flexing those issues and reminds me that these arguments don't go away (unfortunately) because I'm not actively in the trenches arguing about them. The anti-feminist trolls are still out there on those blogs that I don't read & comment on like I used to. Sigh.

There is, however, a blog that wasn't around back when I wrote about more than twins and whiney parenting and not having a permanent job. It's pretty cool, and I was reading over the discussions, wishing that I wrote more like this still, thinking of whether I'd be willing to get into that fray again.

For now, I think I'll just point you all to the blog (called http://finallyfeminism101.wordpress.com/) and say: here is a very useful resource.* If you're wondering what Feminism is, where to find interestingly written definitions of common feminist ideas/terms, etc, go to this blog and muck about. It makes me feel like I should be doing other things, like I haven't done this stuff in too long, but I don't know how much time I can devote to real philosophizin'-- especially with a kiddo literally crying (fake crying.. I'm glad to see it; it's a step in the right direction to his learning to communicate) for my attention.

My feminist muscles are a little shaky in theory, although I like to think that in raising two strong, assertive, kind, equal children of different genders, I am exercising them daily in practice.

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*And I am disturbed that "very useful" worked it's way into the post while I was listening to Thomas the Train. AAAAAUGH! Children's programming-- is it reprogramming me subconsciously?

Thanatos, not Oedipus

When did you first become aware of death? That you could die?

In spite of having a pretty good memory for lots of events in early childhood, I don't remember. I remember seriously choking on a pork chop when I must have been about four, and my dad shoving his finger in my throat and popping it out. I was scared, but I'm pretty sure just because of instinct scared. I didn't at the time realize the implications of the incident.

Around the same time, my cat got hit by a car while I was waiting for the school bus with my sisters. I wouldn't go to school, cried for a long time, felt sick.

Maia is worried about dying. I haven't figured out yet HOW aware she is of this, but twice now (once after falling and getting a minor boo boo, once randomly talking about me leaving her at daycare and her not wanting to go) she has said she "doesn't want to get dead." She's also been very worried about me "getting lost"-- which, I think, translates to mommy not coming back, ever.

I try to reassure her. But how do you really reassure a child about this? You want them to be careful, to not do stupid things that could get them seriously hurt or, yes, killed. It's a possibility for kids sometimes because they take risks (run in a parking lot lately? kids do all the time if you don't constantly remind them).

But she's so sad, and she's coming up with this at awkward times and I know she's thinking about it. She's seen a few animals die-- one of the fish from our pond was partially eaten-- and bugs fall into the pool all the time. And then, I'm sure, we've seen something on TV. Even Nemo's mom dies, and that's rated G.

I think (and here's the title link) that this is possibly the real identity crisis of childhood. It's not about wanting to replace your parent with your other parent. That's what Freud, obsessed with the sex part of it, got wrong. It's more about realizing that you don't go on forever, that you meet with death and that when your parents get freaked out because they don't want you climbing on top of the 12 foot off the ground playfort, it's because "very bad boo boos" happen.

I'm not entirely sure how to handle it. I don't want to freak her out, but I also hate to lie to her. Stuff happens, right? What is pretend, what is real, is it possible for mommy or daddy or other people to "get lost?"

This is probably where being better Christians than we are comes in handy, because you can reassure kids that going to Heaven to be with the angels would be okay. I'm a spiritual person and believe in an almighty being (a conversation for another time... not really "God" per se) but I am not really a believer in angelic choirs and a big white guy in flowing robes. And I'm not exactly sure I know what I think happens to us after death. So how to reassure a child?

Perhaps the real crisis comes with being a parent who has to learn these hard lessons, again, as an adult who treasures their kids more than anything else ever before or since. I'd like to get this parenting thing as right as possible, but man, these are the tough ones.

Too Bad Buffy Isn't On....

I have LITERALLY so much to do and so very little time to do it in that it's actually making me crazy. I am sitting here with this urge to actually do nothing and make the time vs. things to do ratio worse. This is the last four days of Sean's summer school, and I will not be able to do anything but sporadic updates to email and such while he's out of school for three weeks straight with no relief.

I could write more and more about this but it makes me sick to whine, again, about how hard this parenting thing is.

I just want to lie on the couch and veg with a marathon of some stupid show and a bag full of chocolate chip cookies. And I seriously shouldn't. Really. Well, maybe just ONE cookie.....

An Honest Mom

A post I made on Facebook yesterday made a frequent reader & old blog friend say something about how I'm an "honest mom". Her thinking was that I was admitting to sometimes being a little tired of doing the mom thing all the time and wishing for time just to myself. And that was right-- I do sometimes miss those old days of "single marrieds" status. Andrew & I were married 13 or so years before we had kids, so that was a lot of time to have no one to account to but ourselves. It was fun! We flew off to London & Paris, to Alaska, to Hawaii and various less exotic places at the drop of a hat. We could stay out late and sleep in, have Sunday brunch with lots of champagne and then go back to bed for the rest of the day. Lather, rinse, repeat. A family member, years ago, complaining that we hadn't had kids yet was reprimanded by another family member who said "Leave them alone; they still like each other." And that was--and still is, most of the time ;)-- true.

Nowadays it's pretty different. A lot of parents, I guess, miss the wild days more than I do. I don't really need to go out to bars or be on my own very often. I had plenty of wild days, and will again one day when they're older. Date night sounds like fun, but twins tend to scare off the basic babysitter. You have a hard time getting the teen from down the street interested, and when they do think they can handle it, they see me chasing after them (Sean in particular) and are suddenly "busy that night." As much as it feels like a cop out to say, he is a special needs kid for now, and therefore even a challenge for me sometimes. So a lot of the time, I don't even bother trying to find someone.

And part, a huge part, of this is I really, really like hanging out with my kids. I don't need lots of downtime from them, usually. I am fine with other parents who want to get a sitter & hang out. Perhaps if we lived in San Antonio where we have a large network of friends I'd be more up for the hassles and challenges of finding night childcare more often. When I'm putting them down to sleep and they nuzzle into the crook of my arms, Sean on the left and Maia on the right, and sigh sleepily with their little heads resting on my chest there's just very little that can compete with that. A nice martini and a date night without kids is awesome-- but this is ultimately a better feeling and doesn't leave a hangover.

When I'm feeling particularly crabby about the lack of socializing, I think of all the parents of friends I have had in my life. Most of them did not hang out and go out all the time. They had developed a habit of staying in-- watching movies, reading, chilling. I think staying in with your kids is probably more a norm than not. And I used to say that wouldn't be me-- I'd drag them wherever and still do stuff. But it takes a long time to get over the stares and crabbiness people shoot your way when your kid makes noise in a favorite hangout or give you a 'tude cause you brought them to the movies or whatever. And my kids are a little noisier than your average 4 year old. Sean has this shriek he does when he's excited that makes people turn their heads and glare at us. Andrew says I'm too sensitive to it but I remember being the person who wondered why that parent couldn't control their kid-- now I know-- sometimes it's just impossible to explain to the kids why they need to be good here, so you just keep them home.

Anyway, I'm thinking about this today because Andrew really wants to try, later today, dragging them to the gym with us. There are facilities there for parents w/ kids, and I sort of want to do it-- I really need the workout-- and I am dreading how hard I think it's going to be chasing after my hoodlums. We'll give it a shot, I think, but your guess is as good as mine how it's going to go.

So wish me luck. Another commenter to my post said "one word: Nanny." And boy do I wish I had someone here like my friend Patty who used to call herself my nanny. Life was infinitely easier with someone who considered herself as responsible for my kids as Andrew & I do. Maybe if I win the lotto. I guess I ought to buy a ticket.... but that won't help at the gym in an hour.

Does anybody know

Where the he77 I put my da#mne% car keys?!!! Seriously. I always, always put them in my purse. But this morning I cannot find them anywhere. Darn twin babies. I'm sure the keys are tucked carefully somewhere that a 3-year old finds amusing.