Domestic Psychology

Evan’s morning

// January 21st, 2010 // 1 Comment » // play, preschoolers

At the first sound of anyone in the house sitting up in bed or stretching their toes, bounce out of bed and make a beeline for Lego Star Wars. Blearily stare at the screen and click buttons until you smell an open box of cereal. Race to the kitchen and demand a specific bowl, spoon and seat at the table. Eat every last bite of cereal. Be certain to take multiple breaks from said cereal to retrieve matchbox cars, make sure nobody is doing anything interesting without you and randomly running a lap around the living room. Drink milk from cereal. Loudly announce urgent bodily function and race to the bathroom with hand acting as an emergency shut-off valve.

Make a quick inventory of every family member’s current activity before returning to room. In a short amount of time, play with small cars, Playmobile and Legos. Remove shirt because it’s too hot to wear shirts. Go sit in Mom’s lap. Start to have a conversation with mom, then suddenly break out in song. Never tell her where you learned the song. Always say, “I just know it.” When she asks you to get dressed, ask for another bowl of cereal. Eat three bites of cereal, type some secret code on Mom’s computer and examine the clothes that are sitting out for you. Go find a “better” shirt. Insist that you won’t be wearing socks until a different person asks you. Cheerfully put socks on while first adult stares at you both.

Before both shoes are tied, declare yourself “ready to go” and head to the car while the adults run around the house grabbing what appears to be random things, like keys, bags, lunches and jackets. Hop in the car and notice something on the floor that requires intensive study. Ask multiple questions about found object as adult buckles you in your seat. As the car begins to pull out of the driveway, announce the need for a potty break. As adult runs in the house with you on their hip, drop a microscopically small toy in the yard. Giggle when running adult awkwardly tries to pick the toy up without dropping you.

Magically make one of your shoes disappear while visiting the bathroom. After it reappears on the top of the fridge, in the attic or at the neighbor’s house, begin complaining because you are not at school yet. Once you are finally en route to school, refuse to talk no matter what the adult says to you. Make sure the adult doesn’t sing to try and cheer you up, because you don’t need to be cheered. You are very happy. You just don’t want to chat.

Upon arrival at school, run at full speed to the door. Refuse to enter the building if someone is holding the door open. Wait until the door is completely closed so that you can open it yourself. Slide through the stair railing even though you aren’t going to use the stairs. Leave the hallway and use the long bathroom to get to the other end of the hallway with your classroom. Don’t use the bathroom for its’ intended purpose. Save that for later. Run to classroom door and throw backpack, lunchbox and folder at nearest adult even though they are asking you to put things away for yourself. Race off to play with a classmate. If parent lingers to watch you for a millisecond, gruffly tell them you are busy and they need to “go away.” Grin sheepishly. Wave. Go back to playing.

redecorating the tree

// December 19th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // holidays, pets, preschoolers

A. Evan moves the ornaments from the middle of the tree to the bottom of the tree.
B. The dogs knock the ornaments to the floor.
C. I move the ornaments from the floor to the middle of the tree.
D. Repeat. All the day long.

this wasn’t in the manual

// September 29th, 2009 // 2 Comments » // kid quotes, parenting, preschoolers

“Look, Mom! I found two balls in here.”
“Why don’t you build something with your Legos?”
“I want to get these out.”
“Those don’t come out. Now stop doing that before you break something.”
“I’m gonna pee them out.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”

Dear future me,

// September 22nd, 2009 // No Comments » // clothing, parenting, preschoolers

I am writing this from ten years in the past, when Evan was only four. If future me is having a chat about Evan with his therapist or arresting officer, this date might be important. This is the date when I, err you, found all of Evan’s sisters’ underwear stashed on Evan’s little, crib-sized bed. If it was only the 7-y-o’s underwear, I would justify this behavior as proof that girls’ underwear is better, because it has all-over designs, while boys’ underwear only has a design on the back. Alas, the 16-y-o’s underwear were being claimed by Evan as well and big girl undies do not have cute cartoon characters.

If Doug’s, “That’s my boy” reaction turns out to be the explanation for the underwear collecting, future me is probably trying to explain to the police officer why my youngest son is a serial panty snatcher. On the other hand, future me might be explaining Doug’s reaction to Evan’s therapist and we may be looking for a cross-dressing support group for Doug and Evan. Either way, future me deserves a Grande Mocha and an hour alone in a quiet coffee shop. Future me might want to buy a lock for her underwear drawer on the way home from her coffee break.

Love,
Me

Warning: this is a poop story

// August 27th, 2009 // 5 Comments » // preschoolers

I’m not joking. If you don’t have small children and bathroom functions are not a constant topic of conversation for you, look away now. I am going to talk about it. Really. Are you still reading? Okay, here goes:

As I looked out back to peek at Amy and Evan jumping on the trampoline, I noticed the goofy dog eating something in the yard. The raccoons haven’t been in our trash lately, so I complained to Doug that Dharma might have raided the neighbor’s trash for a snack. I realized the trampoline was empty and went out front to see what the children were doing. At that moment, Evan trotted up to the house smelling extremely ripe. I asked him if he’d had an accident and he insisted that he hadn’t pooped in his pants. I tried checking, but he repeatedly scooted just out of reach while his voice became increasingly hysterical. “I didn’t do it. No poop in my pants!” Amy became the third person in our odd little musical number with her sing-song voice chanting, “E-van sti-inks. E-van sti-inks.” Eventually, Evan dodged left when he should have dodged right and I caught him. There was definitely some poop gluing his undies to his skin. I took the screaming objector in the house to begin the hazmat procedures.

After a completely disgusting clean-up, Evan recovered from the indignity of it all and happily played with the five thousand toys accompanying him in the bathtub. I started in on my tired, old ‘poop goes in the potty’ routine. Without even looking up from the shark that was eating the pirate duck, Evan repeated his story. “I did NOT poop in my pants.” But then, he added a new detail. “I pooped on the tree.” Now, I admit that we have ignored Evan’s obsession with peeing on trees, because, well, a tree is better than wet undies. Somehow, it never occurred to me that the child who hates sitting on public toilets would try to poop outside. I called Amy in the room to tell me her side of the story.

“Amy, did Evan go poop outside?” “Yes. He was jumping on the trampoline and then he said he had to go potty, so I told him to pee on the tree and he got off the trampoline and he pulled down his pants and then he bended over like this and he pooped on the tree.” At this point in the story, you have to imagine five or ten minutes of stunned silence as I just stood there, slack jawed. Evan doing belly flops that sent actual waves of water across the bathroom floor, shocked me back to reality. The flood was mopped and the clean child chose space monkey pajamas for the evening. I went to report the incident to Doug.

“He did WHAT?” “You heard me. He did that thing a bear does in the woods.” Doug tilted his head to dislodge the image or maybe he was trying to shake a thought free. “Soooo, he did just like the bear in the Charmin commercials.” “Yes! It was exactly like that!” A slow grin spread across Doug’s face that revealed something wicked was about to be said. I tilted my head down and looked at him through my eyebrows, anticipating something wildly inappropriate. He leaned back in the chair and spoke slowly with the grin never leaving his face. “I know what Dharma was eating.”

“He’s a cool dude.”

// April 23rd, 2009 // 1 Comment » // kid quotes, life, me, people, preschoolers

Three-year-olds are a wonderful blend of toddler and child. Still baby enough to snuggle in your arms and fall asleep, but big enough to absorb everything the older children say and do. They will also lie about the melted chocolate on their hands and face (“Amy ate it.”) and be tactlessly honest in front of strangers (“That man is bald!”). Evan’s new ‘trick’ is pointing at brown skinned teen boys and young adults while announcing, “He’s a cool dude.” The very first time he did this, I reacted like a deer in headlights. Shock and denial. “Do we spend too much time at home?” Pain and guilt. “Should we move someplace more culturally diverse than Knoxville?” Anger and bargaining. “Children will say anything.” Depression. “Evan will spend his adolescence searching for a cool he can’t obtain.” Shift in perception. “Evan doesn’t just categorize people as adult or child.” Processing. “Evan is mature enough to tell me his likes and dislikes.” Finally, there was acceptance. “At least he doesn’t point at people and identify them by size like his sister did.”

toe-may-toe, tah-mah-toe

// March 14th, 2009 // 1 Comment » // Doug, food, parenting, preschoolers

Evan: “I want eat dis.”
Dad: “Cherry tomatoes? Why don’t I make you a sandwich first?”
Evan: “No sammich. Mayters.”
Dad: “I was saving those for dinner. Wouldn’t you like some peanut butter & jelly?”
Evan: “I want eat mayters!”
Dad: “Alright. I’ll make you a salad with tomatoes.”
Evan: “Noooo. Just mayters.”
Dad: “I’ll let you pick the salad dressing.”
Evan: “I WANNA EAT MAYTERS!”
Dad: “Fine. Let me wash them.”
Evan: “Done yet? Done yet? Done yet?”
Dad: “Here! Eat them.”
Evan: “Ewww. Yucky. I throw all mayters away.”

can’t seem to finish anyth

// November 6th, 2008 // No Comments » // life, me, parenting, preschoolers

At 9 a.m. this morning, I settled in my little nook between the kitchen and living room. I needed to get one important e-mail sent before I moved on to my regular list of things to get done. The e-mail should have taken 5 minutes to write and an additional 5 minutes to add in some links. After I pressed send, I was ready to begin my day. Unfortunately, it was after 4 p.m. when the e-mail finally traveled down the series of tubes. Five billion pointless interruptions and the only thing I accomplished today was a single e-mail. Tomorrow will be better. Right?