Domestic Psychology

need more Calgon

// July 11th, 2010 // No Comments » // parenting, teenagers

We have a pile of old, rusty paint cans that have too much leftover paint to waste. After seeing it day after day for several years, I decided to find a purpose for the paint. This week, the leftover paint from 2002′s staircase railing project became the new color of some kitchen shelves that have stored my food since before Tommy was born. That’s a long way of saying that I painted some shelves.

Covered in splatters of paint and with hands aching from gripping a paint roller for hours, I indulged in a hot bath. I leaned back to relax in the steamy water as the dogs curled up against each other for a nap on the cool bathroom floor. The heartsick teen walked in and sat down between the dogs. Then, the middle child and the two littles squeezed into the crowded room.

“<- sob -> Well, I don’t have anything to lose, so I’m just going to do what I want. I’m not a child any more. I’m seventeen! <- sniffle, sob ->
“You just got yourself grounded. Noah! Please come get this spider.”
“What? What spider?”
“There’s a spider above the bathtub. Please get it before it falls in the water.”
“<- sniffle -> I’ll never give up. You can’t hold me back any more.”
“I hold you back? You hold yourself back by eliminating every single college in the state of Tennessee. Noah, please don’t just grab it. You know it will jump and fall and then there will be spider legs floating in my bath, so put your other hand under the spider.”
“You want me stuck in Tennessee forever!”
<- badeep, badoop ... badeep, badoop ->
“No. You can leave the state once you are 18. It’s in the water! Get it out! Get it out!”
<- badeep, badoop ... badeep, badoop ->
“I hear a phone ringing! Can I answer it?”
“Get what out? What’s in the water?”
<- badeep, badoop ... badeep, badoop ->
“I dropped a spider in the bathtub.”
“A spider? I wanna hold it!”
“Eeeeeverybody thinks you are being completely irrational. <-sob ->”
<- badeep, badoop ... badeep, badoop ->
“The spider is dead. You can’t hold it.”
“Everybody is not your parent. I am. Ew, yuck! There’s a spider leg in here! Everybody needs to clear out of this room so I can get dressed.”

<- badeep, badoop ... badeep, badoop ->
“Hello.”
“D and W have been trying to call you. Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

small people, big phones

// May 19th, 2010 // 5 Comments » // parenting, technology, teenagers

My children have cell phones. Their friends have cell phones. Cell phones serve a purpose and I don’t want to argue about what others have said so clearly. I do want to point out two things.

First, parents need to have identifying information in their child’s phone so that it can be returned to the rightful owner if it is misplaced. I have “ICE” listed in the address book on all the cell phones in our house. The original purpose of ICE was to let emergency personnel know who to contact in case of an emergency, but it would have made returning the phone that someone left in the elementary school’s lost and found easier and quicker.

Second and more importantly, even though American Tourister needs to make cell phones for tweens/teens, breakage is not the worst thing that can happen to your child’s phone. Insurance accommodates phones soaked in pockets while practicing marching band in the pouring rain. It’s not even the dreaded cell phone thieves that are absolutely everywhere. Remember how upset Marsha was about the possibility of someone else reading her diary? Cell phones are the new diary. They are filled with facebook posts, text messages and pictures. Middle school boys have learned that “borrowing” a girl’s cell can reveal all kinds of embarrassing details. Nobody wants the entire school to know that, “if u lk me pls lt me knw cuz i lk u.” Aside from the embarrassing lack of English comprehension glimpses into your soul, there is the very real possibility that a girl’s phone has pictures you wouldn’t find published in the school yearbook.

There were more tears shed over a single missing cell phone at the middle school dance than all the histrionic drama about boys. Eventually the phone was found on a counter in the boys’ bathroom. It wasn’t stolen. It was used for espionage. Putting ICE in the phone is easy. Teaching hormonal teens that anything they write, type, text or photo is potentially public is much, much more complicated. It’s not just teens that struggle to understand this. Full grown adults are still whining about facebook not respecting their privacy.

not a stranger if you sit and talk

// April 15th, 2010 // 2 Comments » // parenting, people

While sitting cross legged on the floor, a toddler spontaneously sat down in my lap. A tiny, non-verbal, little person who didn’t weigh a thing thought I looked like a comfy chair. I didn’t even get to say hello before his mother snatched him up and screeched, “Stranger!” She dragged him away lecturing about strangers being “bad, very bad” while the small child looked at me.

Does it make a difference that this took place in the hallway of a preschool? How about the fact that this hallway is only accessible by using the chip in your preschool issued ID badge to get through the locked door?

Everything about it made me feel . . . sad, very sad.

leaving them to starve

// March 18th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // food, teenagers

As a rule, I try to always be at *home on school nights and be a part of the evening routines. As frantic as the evenings are, I can’t imagine not getting to tuck my children in bed at night. It’s probably much more important to me than it is to them. Don’t tell the children I still peek at them while they are sleeping every night. Tonight, I am making a rare exception and attending a meeting. Instead of preparing a healthy meal before I leave, since I really hate cooking, I’m leaving two boxes of organic mac ‘n cheese for the babysitter (aka the 16-y-o) to prepare. The question is, will she-who-shuns-organic prepare the mac ‘n cheese or will the children forage the fridge for crusty leftovers? Place your bets now.

*Why, oh, why can’t the social media folks have their gatherings on the weekends?

domestic detective

// March 16th, 2010 // No Comments » // home, parenting

“What is this goo in your hair?”
“Who put a booger here?”
“Where is that smell coming from?”
“When did this get left on the counter?”
Why is that in the bathtub?”
“Which animal threw up?”

If I am going to spend all my time at the schools, maybe they will let me take some of their chemistry and forensic classes to solve the daily mysteries.

you’re my favorite

// February 13th, 2010 // 3 Comments » // kid quotes, parenting

We spent last weekend house sitting for a friend’s beautiful waterfront home. A weekend away from home, cute animals and deer in the front yard made it feel like a vacation. It was probably less fun for my family who had to endure the annoying whining about my knee, but they’re smart enough to ignore my bad behavior.

Evan made sure to touch every single stick in the yard surrounding the house. He climbed up and down the staircases endlessly. He fearlessly scaled the cliff that dropped off into the deep, cold water while Johnny Bartlett squeezed my heart. When Evan saw a boat in the water, he howled in terror. “Noooo!” Getting near a boat? Scary. Dancing on the side of a mountain? Fun. Evan is my favorite.

Amy wandered the house and grounds like they were a museum, ooohing and ahhhing at all the wonders. “Mom! Come look at this!” I followed her voice until I found her staring at the contents of a small table. “Isn’t this the coolest thing EVER? Why can’t we have one of these things?” I looked closer at the object of her desire. “This part is springy. What do you think it does?” “Amy, that’s a telephone.” “Wow! This is the coolest phone I’ve ever seen. When will we get phones with cords at our house?” Amy is my favorite.

Noah surveyed the half a dozen bedroom choices and announced that he would be sleeping on the deck. I dismissed the idea as much too dangerous due to bitter cold, wild animals and unknown environment. “I’ve slept in colder, more dangerous, less familiar situations with scouts and you never complained.” Ten points for Noah. Noah is my favorite.

Sarah spent the weekend doing what she does every day, doing her own thing. She is much more interested in being with her friends than hanging around the house. She’s too independent and social to play SpongeBob Memory by the fireplace. Even though I miss her, I’m tremendously proud of the person she has become. Sarah is my favorite.

Tommy didn’t go near the house by the water. “I don’t go to strangers’ houses.” Tommy has sorted an emotional and random world into a logical, but amusing book of rules. Sheldon Tommy is my favorite.

Doug: “Tommy’s not a B & B person.” Doug is my favorite.

Can I have a fill-in-the-blank?

// January 25th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // parenting, play

“Mom, can I have a clubhouse.”
<- insert tape #492 -> “Well, maybe this summer your dad can build something…”
“No, I mean a real clubhouse. Like in Up.”
<- blink, blink -> “Where?”
“Me and C are gonna make the empty house down the street our clubhouse.”
“No, you’re not. That house belongs to someone. You can’t go in there.”
“Nobody lives there. Nobody has ever lived there.”
“Someone did live there before you were born, but that house is still someone else’s house.”
“Well, they’re not using it. I think they lost it.”
“You might be right, but you still can’t play in it.”
<- sigh -> “Now we hafta find another clubhouse.”

from the cutting room floor

// December 29th, 2009 // No Comments » // parenting, preschoolers, teenagers

Two short anecdotes that didn’t make the cut:

In preparation for my youngest child’s first musical performance, we practiced songs daily. The day of the event, we sat near the front of the auditorium and waited. Our child’s turn on the stage was spent staring at his feet, rocking on his toes, wandering from his spot and having a shoving contest with the child next to him. He didn’t utter a single note. It was the only time his entire life that he has been silent while awake.

On another day, I asked my oldest daughter what time her performance would begin. “You’re not going to come watch it are you? It’s terrible. You should skip it.” Later that week, as I walked to my car, I texted the same child to let her know that I was heading home. “Already? Did you see my performance? How did it look? Did you get pictures?”

again with the body fluids

// November 6th, 2009 // 2 Comments » // health, parenting

Wednesday, Amy had to visit the dentist for a small filling on one tooth and sealant on a molar. My job during this adventure was to be reassuring and stay out of the way. Amy hopped in the dental chair and they leaned the chair back to work on her mouth. The assistant pulled Amy’s shoulders and slid her until Amy’s tiny head rested squarely on the head cushion. This parked her bottom on the area of the chair designed to be a back rest and her legs magically floated over the fold in the chair where booties belong. An orange mask was gently draped over Amy’s nose and two assistants busily applying a sealant nearly blocked my view. I sat in my chair against the wall and watched what I could see, Amy’s feet.

Amy’s feet looked completely relaxed during the sealant procedure. Then, the dentist switched places with one of the assistants and I watched him pick up a metal syringe. Amy’s feet turned in and one went on top of the other. As quickly as Amy’s feet and my entire body tensed, it was done. Her feet relaxed. I sat in my chair on the wall and tried to look like I didn’t feel sick about what was happening. I closed my eyes for a count of ten and then I resumed my feet watching duties. I stared and the feet remained still.

The feet started tapping, like a little tune was playing in Amy’s head. I tried to decide if she was playing or restless. Then, her toes pointed straight down and I tried to make a motion that would get the assistant’s attention without distracting the dentist. When Amy’s hands grabbed her crotch, I made an announcement. “We need to go potty.” The dentist said he was finished and quietly asked Amy if she could wait a few minutes before she tried to sit up. Amy nodded. I began mentally abusing myself for saying “we” instead of “she” while wondering how long Amy could hold it.

The dentist left, the gas was switched to oxygen and I scooted in close to Amy’s face. “I need you to take big, deep breaths so you can get your land legs back.” Amy stared at me as she took exaggerated breaths. The assistant popped the mask off and I helped a very wobbly Amy to the bathroom. Amy did her thing and I lifted her up to the sink to wash her hands. Immediately, I felt the moisture seeping from the seat of Amy’s pants to the leg of my jeans where Amy sat to wash her hands. A few questions determined that by the time Amy grabbed her crotch in the chair, it was too late to make it to the bathroom. We left the office and made it to the car as quickly as possible.

The tears began almost immediately. Giant, Keane painting eyes silently dripped a steady stream of tears. I tried to convince Amy that the medications just made her too relaxed to hold it, but my words didn’t help. I knew that if we could get home and out of the soggy clothes, she could get past this. I just didn’t know how we were going to make it home. “Amy, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to pee in my pants so you won’t feel alone.” “What?” “I’m going to pee in my pants. Right now. I’m going to do it. Hold on, I need to concentrate to do it.” Quiet giggles replaced the sniffles and sobs. “It’s too hard to pee while I’m driving. Should I pull over up here and pee in my pants?” “Moooommy. You’re silly.” I’m happy to report that I made it home with dry pants. However, Doug will be the foot watcher on the next visit to the dentist.

Halloween gets tricky

// October 30th, 2009 // 4 Comments » // holidays, parenting, teenagers

What is the Halloween version of the Grinch? Me. Well, if you ask my teenagers, it’s me. Tommy hasn’t gone trick or treating for years, but suddenly he has started mumbling that trick or treating sounds like fun. It’s only mumbling though. He is happy with the long-standing deal that when you stop trick or treating, mom treats you with a bag of candy.

Sarah didn’t go out for the past two years because of school. This year, Halloween is on a Saturday and she is adamant that she will be trick or treating with her 17-y-o boyfriend. I am equally determined that my child who is old enough to work and drive is too old to knock on doors to beg for candy.

Noah is still my baby, but he is taller than me and he has a Gomez Addams mustache. The people handing out treats at Boo at the Zoo visibly disapproved of Noah’s trick or treating and he was scolded by one of them. I suggested to Noah that he is a good age to transition to Mom’s treat bag. Now, he walks around looking at me like I took Christmas away from him.

So, I have less than 24 hours to pull a rabbit out of my hat to make everyone happy. That hat looks mighty empty right now. It looks like this is going to be the year that mom ruined Halloween. Sometimes, being a mom is no fun at all.