It was the day before Thanksgiving and all through the house not a creature was stirring, oh wait, wrong holiday, and no, no there was stirring:
Walle and Lucy were both staring at the same corner in the room, albeit from different angles, wide eyed with excitement. I knew this could only be something terrible. Something that extended beyond the depths of terrible. The last time I saw cats do that was when Chloe and Olivia ( her sister that died) stared at a previously unnoticed crack in my apt wall in NYC. Then I saw the antennae, then the giant water bug appeared.
So I KNEW, I KNEW, something terrible was occurring.
For whatever reason I did not allow my mind to wander. I thought there might be a big spider. So I carefully moved the furniture and THERE IT WAS THE BIGGEST POTATO BUG I'VE EVER SEEN AND OMG HELP ME.
I yelled to Jeff to come help and he said " They were right!" because of course not 10 minutes early Laurel had apparently claimed to have seen a scorpion and Griffin chimed in that he saw a scorpion and Jeff IGNORED them. Jeff trapped it with a dustpan and threw it outside and it made a dull thud when it landed because it was so large.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Lucy
Paddington bear arrived as a stowaway coming from "Deepest Darkest Peru", sent by his Aunt Lucy who has gone to live in the Home for Retired Bears in Lima.
That is how the tale of Paddington begins to unfold. Unfortunately for us, our Paddington went missing. Its been 14 days and our sweet, shy, polydactyl, all black snaggle toothed cat has not returned. We sent out an amber pet alert to 500 neighbors, we flyered the neighborhood, we set two humane traps, nightly, baited with Kentucky Fried chicken. Friends of Ferals recommends that technique because the stench of the chicken is so great. We called a woman who tracks animals using bloodhounds. She charges $1500 which is more than we can afford, but she also recommended baiting with Kentucky Fried Chicken. We have searched through our neighbors yard. We have a missing cat report filed at all the rescue places. We tried not to lose hope. But there are coyotes in the neighborhood and there are a lot of missing cats right now. Its been a very sad time for us.
Yesterday we went to the Humane Society. We were there for 4 hours. We've been stopping by periodically, checking the found and feral cat rooms. Yesterday was different. We went in search of a buddy to fill the void in our house.
Our house has been chaotic with 4 kids, 3 cats and a dog. But we are used to that chaos. The calm we felt with one fewer being...well it was unacceptable. It made us uncomfortable and sad. Paddington's lack of presence just felt like a hole, in our house, in our hearts.
So we visited the shelter. In some ways it felt bad, were we giving up? How could we give up? But that hurt we all felt well, it was just omnipresent and oppressive. We had to make that hurt dissipate.
We stayed at the shelter for 4 hours. I asked to have time with various cats. One was too mellow, one was too shy, one was too skittish, one was too hyper. None of them made me feel like the hurt could go away. Until we saw this one. All black but she did not have amber eyes like most all black cats. She had emerald eyes, like Paddington. She reached out and grabbed me. She rubbed against the cage and purred. When we had play time with her she jumped around, excited without being hyper. She purred and reached her paws at our faces, touching us, filling our hearts. This was Lucy and we all knew it. Lucy, the relation to Paddington, of sorts. The little being who has begun to heal our hearts.
This morning she peed on my shoe.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
What Haunts Me about Halloween
Trick or Treating can be fraught with potential hazards. Too scary, too loud, too crowded. Some of the kids run ahead, some lag behind and someone gets misplaced.
This year I had to pause the trick or treating session to implement a new rule. You cannot say " Can I have an extra piece of candy for my stupid brother?"
" Its so silly to say that! I'm copying Charlie Brown movie!"
Yes, I know that, but the problem is that no one else knows that. We cannot ask for additional candy for your " stupid brother", regardless of whether or not he is off waiting for the Great Pumpkin somewhere.
Minor inappropriate Halloween video references aside, this was a particularly successful trick or treat session. All four kids were out for hours, well past dark. All four kids handled the varying degrees of ghoulish delights and keening sounds.
Best of all, no one had to go to the bathroom.
There was one year, one unforgettable year, when Griffin had to pee. We had wandered deep into the bustling kid friendly neighborhood and I did not know anyone who lived in the immediate vicinity. Fortunately I ran into someone who knew someone who lived nearby and she escorted us to their home. Yes, they would let my then 3 year old use their bathroom. I was so relieved. So was he. I frantically tried to get his costume off in time and he just made it. But then I saw some pee across the back of the toilet. Did he do that? I don't know. But I have to clean it because we are using the bathroom of these kind people. So I cleaned it up with wads of soapy toilet paper. But was it my child's pee?
Oh how this question still haunts me.
This year I had to pause the trick or treating session to implement a new rule. You cannot say " Can I have an extra piece of candy for my stupid brother?"
" Its so silly to say that! I'm copying Charlie Brown movie!"
Yes, I know that, but the problem is that no one else knows that. We cannot ask for additional candy for your " stupid brother", regardless of whether or not he is off waiting for the Great Pumpkin somewhere.
Minor inappropriate Halloween video references aside, this was a particularly successful trick or treat session. All four kids were out for hours, well past dark. All four kids handled the varying degrees of ghoulish delights and keening sounds.
Best of all, no one had to go to the bathroom.
There was one year, one unforgettable year, when Griffin had to pee. We had wandered deep into the bustling kid friendly neighborhood and I did not know anyone who lived in the immediate vicinity. Fortunately I ran into someone who knew someone who lived nearby and she escorted us to their home. Yes, they would let my then 3 year old use their bathroom. I was so relieved. So was he. I frantically tried to get his costume off in time and he just made it. But then I saw some pee across the back of the toilet. Did he do that? I don't know. But I have to clean it because we are using the bathroom of these kind people. So I cleaned it up with wads of soapy toilet paper. But was it my child's pee?
Oh how this question still haunts me.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Hellooooo?
Its those little moments, the ones that last less than a second that make it all worth while. No, I'm not referencing a sweet story reading session, or an unexpected cuddle on the sofa.
The other day things were not going well. Not well at all. The kids were all fighting, antagonizing one another, baiting one another. When its only 2/4 I consider the odds to be in my favor since that means half of my kids are not fighting. But this was not a 2 out of 4 afternoon. This was a 4 out of 4 afternoon. There were squabbles and squeals of distress. Someone was in someone's room and someone looked over someone's shoulder, and one child played with a toy that may have belonged to someone else, and someone looked at someone.
I tried to tune it out.
It didn't work. Fury gave way to door slamming and screaming. " Get out! Get out! Leave me alone! Go away!"
OK, I get that you would like alone time, and this is a very small house and no one gets alone time, but you cannot kick your brother out of a shared room.
"Leave me ALONE, Oliver!"
Giggle, giggle . "I'm not Oliver."
" Yes, you are! Get OUT!"
Giggle, giggle. "Hellooooo?"
"GO AWAY!"
" Hellooo? I am Jango Fett!"
Holden was not amused. I was.
The other day things were not going well. Not well at all. The kids were all fighting, antagonizing one another, baiting one another. When its only 2/4 I consider the odds to be in my favor since that means half of my kids are not fighting. But this was not a 2 out of 4 afternoon. This was a 4 out of 4 afternoon. There were squabbles and squeals of distress. Someone was in someone's room and someone looked over someone's shoulder, and one child played with a toy that may have belonged to someone else, and someone looked at someone.
I tried to tune it out.
It didn't work. Fury gave way to door slamming and screaming. " Get out! Get out! Leave me alone! Go away!"
OK, I get that you would like alone time, and this is a very small house and no one gets alone time, but you cannot kick your brother out of a shared room.
"Leave me ALONE, Oliver!"
Giggle, giggle . "I'm not Oliver."
" Yes, you are! Get OUT!"
Giggle, giggle. "Hellooooo?"
"GO AWAY!"
" Hellooo? I am Jango Fett!"
Holden was not amused. I was.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Hope
Its not really funny. Not this time. Not even in retrospect. I had started out wanting to keep a blog on the light side. I wanted to remind myself, more than anyone else, that I can always find humor in unlikely places. But not right now. Not about this.
Having a special needs child is like fighting the battle of a lifetime. I know its all been said before and people love referencing the Welcome to Holland poem etcetera. That has its place, I'm not saying it doesn't. And yes, there is peace in acceptance. I get that too. But that path to acceptance is a long, tough road. There are a lot of points at which a parent has to accept more, and then more and more and more. It doesn't really end. This path of acceptance just keeps hurling itself at you.
Here is the thing. Its not just about the acceptance. Its about the entire damn journey. The journey that never really gets to a point at which you can stop and catch your breath.
A friend with an older child with some physical and developmental issues was recently talking about speaking with another woman who had just found out her child would face a lifetime of delays ( social, emotional, physical, developmental). All of us in the room, all mothers of a special needs child of one sort or another, nodded knowingly. We remembered this pain, that initial shock. But this woman, she had it worse, because she knew older children with the same issues, she had seen everything that was involved in caring for a child like this. My friend commented that she did not know how strong she would have been if she had known and seen what the future would hold for her child and her own life.
That is what this post is about. Its about that hope. The hope you need to continue. The hope you need to fight for your child against all odds. Yes, I know the likelihood is slim that my child will be the one, the one in 40 billion, that somehow makes it out of "special needs". Maybe my child will be the one who is somehow OK in life. Maybe he will have a friend. Maybe he will have a job. Yes, I know those goals are set high. I need to keep those goals set high. If I give up on my child then no one believes in my child. If I don't believe in my child he has no one. I have to believe in my child. Thats my job. Hope is what keeps me going. Hope propels me forward each day. Hope gives me the strength to tell teachers " Yes, my boy deserves a chance to do his work. Please let him try". Hope is what gives me the strength to keep searching for new ways of understanding my child and how he thinks. Hope compels me to seek out alternative methods of teaching so I can help him access education.
For some reason people want to rob me of that hope. For some reason people see hope as a weakness of mine. Apparently I need to accept all of the many things my child will never be. Somehow well meaning friends cannot see that I need that hope to get through each day. Yes, I know there are many things my child will never be. He has everything stacked against him. Yes, I know that. I do not need information on adult living homes. Not right now. Because I have not given up. If I was looking into the various options available that would be helpful. I am not looking into that right now because he is 8 years old and I have not given up.
I am not being unrealistic. The fact is my child is a child. He has growing and learning to do. He has shown that he is capable of growing and learning. I would like to see how far he can go before I make the decisions that will affect the rest of his life. I would like him to access education and social skills and everything else that is available to him in the least restrictive environment possible. Does that phrasing sound familiar? Thats because its a law. Right now my focus needs to be about giving him the tools he needs to succeed at whatever level he might succeed. Thats it. Thats all I want. I can't focus right now on whether or not he will go live in a home, unable to care for himself, friendless.
I don't really understand why well meaning friends need to point out the joys of being rid of this burden of mine. I understand that your cousin, or brother or dog walker's friend, knew someone who was institutionalized and after that happened everyone was so happy because the house was so calm and the rest of the family had a nice peaceful life. Thats just great for your dog walker's friend's cousin or whoever the hell you claim to be referencing, but I am not that person. Sure, maybe he will end up like that. I said it, are you happy? Now will you leave me alone with my pathetic hope?
I understand that people find my hope aggravating. They want to tear it down, make sure I know that my child will never have a " normal" life. But nonetheless, I am clinging to my hope, pathetic as it may be. Because my hope is all my child has and I am not going to let him down. I am the one person who believes in him. Every child needs to know someone believes in them. Every child. I see how funny and smart ( yes, smart) my child is, I know he is capable of a lot. I know how hard he works and tries. No, I will not give up. I am not interested in hearing about all the ways you think he will fail or the many ways in which you think he cannot handle daily life. I am not blind to any of this. Of course I see the struggles and pitfalls. I do know I have chosen a challenging path for my child. But if I chose the easy path he has no chance to rise to the occasion ( you know, just like any kid). I think he can do it.
I've been down this road before, back in the days when no one believed me when I expressed fears that maybe something was wrong with my child. Friends wrote me off as being neurotic. Doctors told me not to worry, like I was some crazy, bored Munchhausen by proxy mom. I paid for private evaluations and guess who was right? That would be me. Is there satisfaction in that? Not particularly. Looking back on that time, the one regret I do not have is listening to myself and getting the help we needed. So many parents of children with special needs are consumed with guilt for not knowing soon enough, not having early intervention. I don't have that guilt, I know how hard I tried.
Now here I am again. Fighting to have my child viewed as a child first, not a disability. No, I don't want anyone's opinions about how I need to let go and realize that he can't do these things (like participate). Because maybe he can. I'm certain I won't look back and regret having fought so hard. Even if all of my greatest fears are realized and an awful, sad, lonely life awaits him, I will not regret having fought to give him a chance.
Hope is the source of my strength and I am not letting go.
Having a special needs child is like fighting the battle of a lifetime. I know its all been said before and people love referencing the Welcome to Holland poem etcetera. That has its place, I'm not saying it doesn't. And yes, there is peace in acceptance. I get that too. But that path to acceptance is a long, tough road. There are a lot of points at which a parent has to accept more, and then more and more and more. It doesn't really end. This path of acceptance just keeps hurling itself at you.
Here is the thing. Its not just about the acceptance. Its about the entire damn journey. The journey that never really gets to a point at which you can stop and catch your breath.
A friend with an older child with some physical and developmental issues was recently talking about speaking with another woman who had just found out her child would face a lifetime of delays ( social, emotional, physical, developmental). All of us in the room, all mothers of a special needs child of one sort or another, nodded knowingly. We remembered this pain, that initial shock. But this woman, she had it worse, because she knew older children with the same issues, she had seen everything that was involved in caring for a child like this. My friend commented that she did not know how strong she would have been if she had known and seen what the future would hold for her child and her own life.
That is what this post is about. Its about that hope. The hope you need to continue. The hope you need to fight for your child against all odds. Yes, I know the likelihood is slim that my child will be the one, the one in 40 billion, that somehow makes it out of "special needs". Maybe my child will be the one who is somehow OK in life. Maybe he will have a friend. Maybe he will have a job. Yes, I know those goals are set high. I need to keep those goals set high. If I give up on my child then no one believes in my child. If I don't believe in my child he has no one. I have to believe in my child. Thats my job. Hope is what keeps me going. Hope propels me forward each day. Hope gives me the strength to tell teachers " Yes, my boy deserves a chance to do his work. Please let him try". Hope is what gives me the strength to keep searching for new ways of understanding my child and how he thinks. Hope compels me to seek out alternative methods of teaching so I can help him access education.
For some reason people want to rob me of that hope. For some reason people see hope as a weakness of mine. Apparently I need to accept all of the many things my child will never be. Somehow well meaning friends cannot see that I need that hope to get through each day. Yes, I know there are many things my child will never be. He has everything stacked against him. Yes, I know that. I do not need information on adult living homes. Not right now. Because I have not given up. If I was looking into the various options available that would be helpful. I am not looking into that right now because he is 8 years old and I have not given up.
I am not being unrealistic. The fact is my child is a child. He has growing and learning to do. He has shown that he is capable of growing and learning. I would like to see how far he can go before I make the decisions that will affect the rest of his life. I would like him to access education and social skills and everything else that is available to him in the least restrictive environment possible. Does that phrasing sound familiar? Thats because its a law. Right now my focus needs to be about giving him the tools he needs to succeed at whatever level he might succeed. Thats it. Thats all I want. I can't focus right now on whether or not he will go live in a home, unable to care for himself, friendless.
I don't really understand why well meaning friends need to point out the joys of being rid of this burden of mine. I understand that your cousin, or brother or dog walker's friend, knew someone who was institutionalized and after that happened everyone was so happy because the house was so calm and the rest of the family had a nice peaceful life. Thats just great for your dog walker's friend's cousin or whoever the hell you claim to be referencing, but I am not that person. Sure, maybe he will end up like that. I said it, are you happy? Now will you leave me alone with my pathetic hope?
I understand that people find my hope aggravating. They want to tear it down, make sure I know that my child will never have a " normal" life. But nonetheless, I am clinging to my hope, pathetic as it may be. Because my hope is all my child has and I am not going to let him down. I am the one person who believes in him. Every child needs to know someone believes in them. Every child. I see how funny and smart ( yes, smart) my child is, I know he is capable of a lot. I know how hard he works and tries. No, I will not give up. I am not interested in hearing about all the ways you think he will fail or the many ways in which you think he cannot handle daily life. I am not blind to any of this. Of course I see the struggles and pitfalls. I do know I have chosen a challenging path for my child. But if I chose the easy path he has no chance to rise to the occasion ( you know, just like any kid). I think he can do it.
I've been down this road before, back in the days when no one believed me when I expressed fears that maybe something was wrong with my child. Friends wrote me off as being neurotic. Doctors told me not to worry, like I was some crazy, bored Munchhausen by proxy mom. I paid for private evaluations and guess who was right? That would be me. Is there satisfaction in that? Not particularly. Looking back on that time, the one regret I do not have is listening to myself and getting the help we needed. So many parents of children with special needs are consumed with guilt for not knowing soon enough, not having early intervention. I don't have that guilt, I know how hard I tried.
Now here I am again. Fighting to have my child viewed as a child first, not a disability. No, I don't want anyone's opinions about how I need to let go and realize that he can't do these things (like participate). Because maybe he can. I'm certain I won't look back and regret having fought so hard. Even if all of my greatest fears are realized and an awful, sad, lonely life awaits him, I will not regret having fought to give him a chance.
Hope is the source of my strength and I am not letting go.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Now That The Kids Are In School
What do I do with myself all day now that the kids are in school? Of course the obvious answer is I sit around, gorging myself on delicious and decadent treats. I have time to go to all of the health clubs and fitness centers I belong to because now that the kids are in school money is no object so I have joined them all. When I am finished with all of my clubs and centers, and my time with the personal fitness trainers and gurus has drawn to a close, I head out to a spa for a facial, a massage and then I join friends for a leisurely tea. After which I sweep in to the school parking lot to pick up my perfectly coiffed and cheerful children who regale me with tales related to the joy of learning.
Except none of this happens. I don't have that life. Yes, I have 4 kids in school but this has afforded me unbelievably less time for myself than I have had previously. This year I have 4 kids on two school campuses. This may sound, from an outsider's perspective, like a terrible scheduling snafu has occurred, when in fact this is the best I have ever had it.
This is the best schedule I have had in 10 years. In years past I have attempted to balance 3 different schools for 4 children. No matter how hard I tried I was always the parent who was present the least. I went on the fewest class trips, I volunteered for the fewest hours in each classroom.
Other parents would helpfully explain that the unwritten code of the school requires that parents put in their time if they want the best teachers and classroom experiences, the implication being that if I showed up every now and again my child would have it better, you know, like their kid. Somehow no one really got the 3 schools with various pick up times part of the equation. Yet somehow these same people are the ones that marvel at how I balance two campuses this year.
But back to the time issue. Now that I have kids in one district, in two campuses, I actually can participate in classrooms and volunteer on field trips. So I do and I am happy to do this because I finally can. I like being able to see what goes on, I like getting to know the kids and finding out about my children's classmates. Plus the field trips are fun and informative.
However there is very little time for anything once I get involved. This week I went on 2 field trips, baked California shaped cookies and volunteered for an in class project. I also did some further research for an upcoming IEP. I went to a meeting with the director of student services for our school district. I met with the principal and spoke with art and music and PE teachers to make sure I knew how everything was going at school this year. That was during the school hours. After school there was swimming, cross country, water polo and homework. Every day. Then I made dinner. Then I did laundry. Then I cleaned parts of the house, but not all of it. I did not even buy groceries. I saved that for today. I did not have time to buy groceries. We are out of milk. We are out of cat food. We have only had the fish tank for 3 weeks and already one of the fish had babies so we need to get fish baby accoutrements.
I went to bed exhausted every night. I still have further research to do before the IEP. I have volunteered to make cookies for a fundraiser for special ed. The weekend is booked with swimming and play dates and soccer. On Monday it will all start again.
On Monday someone is sure to ask me what I do with all of my spare time now that the kids are in school and I have the house to myself. It must be so quiet, they will remark. Their idea of my life sounds so idyllic, how do I get in there?
Except none of this happens. I don't have that life. Yes, I have 4 kids in school but this has afforded me unbelievably less time for myself than I have had previously. This year I have 4 kids on two school campuses. This may sound, from an outsider's perspective, like a terrible scheduling snafu has occurred, when in fact this is the best I have ever had it.
This is the best schedule I have had in 10 years. In years past I have attempted to balance 3 different schools for 4 children. No matter how hard I tried I was always the parent who was present the least. I went on the fewest class trips, I volunteered for the fewest hours in each classroom.
Other parents would helpfully explain that the unwritten code of the school requires that parents put in their time if they want the best teachers and classroom experiences, the implication being that if I showed up every now and again my child would have it better, you know, like their kid. Somehow no one really got the 3 schools with various pick up times part of the equation. Yet somehow these same people are the ones that marvel at how I balance two campuses this year.
But back to the time issue. Now that I have kids in one district, in two campuses, I actually can participate in classrooms and volunteer on field trips. So I do and I am happy to do this because I finally can. I like being able to see what goes on, I like getting to know the kids and finding out about my children's classmates. Plus the field trips are fun and informative.
However there is very little time for anything once I get involved. This week I went on 2 field trips, baked California shaped cookies and volunteered for an in class project. I also did some further research for an upcoming IEP. I went to a meeting with the director of student services for our school district. I met with the principal and spoke with art and music and PE teachers to make sure I knew how everything was going at school this year. That was during the school hours. After school there was swimming, cross country, water polo and homework. Every day. Then I made dinner. Then I did laundry. Then I cleaned parts of the house, but not all of it. I did not even buy groceries. I saved that for today. I did not have time to buy groceries. We are out of milk. We are out of cat food. We have only had the fish tank for 3 weeks and already one of the fish had babies so we need to get fish baby accoutrements.
I went to bed exhausted every night. I still have further research to do before the IEP. I have volunteered to make cookies for a fundraiser for special ed. The weekend is booked with swimming and play dates and soccer. On Monday it will all start again.
On Monday someone is sure to ask me what I do with all of my spare time now that the kids are in school and I have the house to myself. It must be so quiet, they will remark. Their idea of my life sounds so idyllic, how do I get in there?
Saturday, April 23, 2011
If You Scream You Get Veggie Burgers
This is what I love about holidays: I can bribe the kids. Christmas is by far the easiest because I get an entire month in which elves are reporting bad behavior and miscreant activities to the powers that be at the North Pole. However I can work other holidays to my advantage as well.
Easter, for example. Today started out like any other day. A scream, a shout, angry protests followed by thuds of toys hitting walls and children jumping off of bunk beds or perhaps dangling from ceiling fans. I have no idea what those noises indicate because I no longer check unless someone informs me that blood is involved. Even then I take my sweet time unless there is silence. There is nothing more eerie than silence. Today was not silent. There was loud chaos and rumblings which began at the usual ungodly hour of 5:30, which is a fantastic time for rumblings and chaos. All sorts of injustices were apparently occurring but I don't involve myself in these altercations. If I get involved whatever toy or activity is in question goes away and becomes mine.
The noise level escalated, as it usually does, until it was time to serve the beasts breakfast. Different but equally jarring sounds of protest and cries of injustice issue forth from the breakfast table. The four beings were not quelled after being sated with sustenance so I threw them outside. If you play with the dog you get to chew gum. Go outside. Its a good bribe. We don't usually have gum. My kids will work for gum. For the time being, anyway.
OK, it didn't work. Well, getting them outside worked, but screaming and fighting and shoving and irritating one another wasn't quite what I'd had in mind. One decided someone else's toy didn't work well which resulted in a fit of tears because yes, it does work well! Someone else found bubbles and deliberately blew them in someone else's eye, just to be mean! Then someone stood right where someone else was scootering and someone looked at something and it was not OK and someone else did some other thing and it was all very horrible and unfair. So I told them to go inside.
Once inside I broke out the big guns. The big Easter guns. I started speaking slowly, carefully, softly but with a great deal of conviction.
"Did you know", I paused for affect and also to quickly concoct my tale, " the Easter bunny does not bring chocolate to boys and girls who fight and scream the day before Easter?" I stared at them solemnly. They stared back solemnly, this had not crossed their minds. Why had it not crossed my mind until now?
" The Easter bunny", I continued," will bring you a basket of veggie burgers. The ones from Costco". Oh how my children loathe those veggie burgers, which I found out after buying a case of them. " The Easter bunny will hop on down the bunny trail and take a quick turn to hop on over to Costco on his way here". Costco is everywhere these days.
One small child was caught up in the story of it all. Another had eyes filled with a combination of wonder and horror.
" But, I don't like those", she whispered, aghast.
" I know". I offered, sagely.
Silence.
Oh how I love silence.
A few minutes later some sort of injustice was almost discovered but a quick reminder of veggie burgers was all it took to silence the dissent. The afternoon was looking up.
This evening however hit a bit of a snag.
" Mommy? I'm scared of the Easter bunny. He has red scary eyes. Is he going to come into our house when I'm sleeping?"
" He just hops on in to leave you chocolate, or veggie burgers. Did you clean your room? I don't want him to trip".
" Will he hop in my room? And touch me? I'm scared of the Easter bunny. I don't want him to touch me."
Hmmmm, if you leave a mess in your room he will hop in there and trip and fall onto your bed. Picking up might be a good idea.
" Mommy? I want to sleep in your bed so he doesn't attack me".
Easter bunnies don't attack, but just in case we will leave out this piece of cabbage in the kitchen so he will get all distracted and stay in there.
"OK, but Mommy? I don't want him in here, what if he comes in my room and has red eyes?"
Easter bunnies are scared of air so you can take this empty spray bottle and if you see him hop into your room you can squirt him.
" OK, and Mommy? I get chocolate for breakfast?"
As long as you never scream again.
Easter, for example. Today started out like any other day. A scream, a shout, angry protests followed by thuds of toys hitting walls and children jumping off of bunk beds or perhaps dangling from ceiling fans. I have no idea what those noises indicate because I no longer check unless someone informs me that blood is involved. Even then I take my sweet time unless there is silence. There is nothing more eerie than silence. Today was not silent. There was loud chaos and rumblings which began at the usual ungodly hour of 5:30, which is a fantastic time for rumblings and chaos. All sorts of injustices were apparently occurring but I don't involve myself in these altercations. If I get involved whatever toy or activity is in question goes away and becomes mine.
The noise level escalated, as it usually does, until it was time to serve the beasts breakfast. Different but equally jarring sounds of protest and cries of injustice issue forth from the breakfast table. The four beings were not quelled after being sated with sustenance so I threw them outside. If you play with the dog you get to chew gum. Go outside. Its a good bribe. We don't usually have gum. My kids will work for gum. For the time being, anyway.
OK, it didn't work. Well, getting them outside worked, but screaming and fighting and shoving and irritating one another wasn't quite what I'd had in mind. One decided someone else's toy didn't work well which resulted in a fit of tears because yes, it does work well! Someone else found bubbles and deliberately blew them in someone else's eye, just to be mean! Then someone stood right where someone else was scootering and someone looked at something and it was not OK and someone else did some other thing and it was all very horrible and unfair. So I told them to go inside.
Once inside I broke out the big guns. The big Easter guns. I started speaking slowly, carefully, softly but with a great deal of conviction.
"Did you know", I paused for affect and also to quickly concoct my tale, " the Easter bunny does not bring chocolate to boys and girls who fight and scream the day before Easter?" I stared at them solemnly. They stared back solemnly, this had not crossed their minds. Why had it not crossed my mind until now?
" The Easter bunny", I continued," will bring you a basket of veggie burgers. The ones from Costco". Oh how my children loathe those veggie burgers, which I found out after buying a case of them. " The Easter bunny will hop on down the bunny trail and take a quick turn to hop on over to Costco on his way here". Costco is everywhere these days.
One small child was caught up in the story of it all. Another had eyes filled with a combination of wonder and horror.
" But, I don't like those", she whispered, aghast.
" I know". I offered, sagely.
Silence.
Oh how I love silence.
A few minutes later some sort of injustice was almost discovered but a quick reminder of veggie burgers was all it took to silence the dissent. The afternoon was looking up.
This evening however hit a bit of a snag.
" Mommy? I'm scared of the Easter bunny. He has red scary eyes. Is he going to come into our house when I'm sleeping?"
" He just hops on in to leave you chocolate, or veggie burgers. Did you clean your room? I don't want him to trip".
" Will he hop in my room? And touch me? I'm scared of the Easter bunny. I don't want him to touch me."
Hmmmm, if you leave a mess in your room he will hop in there and trip and fall onto your bed. Picking up might be a good idea.
" Mommy? I want to sleep in your bed so he doesn't attack me".
Easter bunnies don't attack, but just in case we will leave out this piece of cabbage in the kitchen so he will get all distracted and stay in there.
"OK, but Mommy? I don't want him in here, what if he comes in my room and has red eyes?"
Easter bunnies are scared of air so you can take this empty spray bottle and if you see him hop into your room you can squirt him.
" OK, and Mommy? I get chocolate for breakfast?"
As long as you never scream again.
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