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Kid Leash Part 2

Since they first came out, I have hated mini-vans. I think they are hideous and look like rats. I'm sorry if you drive one. A mini-van is also a sure sign of a distracted driver, so I like to steer clear of them on the highway. I hate them and mock them every chance I get.

It's the same with kids on a leash. Who is such a bad parent that they can't hold their kid's hand and prevent them from running in the street? Kids are not dogs. It's medieval, barbaric, and shameful.

Claire wore one again yesterday. My fear is that the next step to my loss of self-respect is the purchase of a mini-van.

We rode the TRE to downtown Dallas with Adam's mom and Morgan. I carried Paul in the Baby Bjorn again so I wouldn't have to mess with pushing a stroller and parking it on the train. As soon as we got off the train, Claire started fidgeting and getting cranky. "I don't want to hold your hand!" she yelled at me. She actually requested the leash. I was horrified but complied. It kept her from running in the street, so I'm glad we had it.

Some pre-teen boys passed us and were obviously talking about Claire. I was mortified and confronted them. "Yes," I said. "I know it's awful. She is on a leash. I have to keep her out of the street." Their mom graciously came up to me and said, "Hey, whatever works. You have to keep your kid safe. It's actually pretty cute."

The whole day I pitied myself for getting to the point that I had to leash up my child. I don't think I was very pleasant. (Add more shame to my self-pity when Claire pulled the fire alarm in an elevator. Luckily I cancelled it.)

On the train ride home, I was wallowing in self-pity and exhaustion. (Carrying a 23-lb. child on the front of your chest and a loaded backpack on your back really wears you out.) Then another mother got on the train who obviously deserved my pity more. She had three kids, one of whom was suffering from extreme allergies, with puffy eyes and a runny nose. One kid, who was Claire's age, was wearing pajamas, and her third kid was strapped in her overloaded double-stroller. She looked homeless and exhausted.

I offered her my water, wipes, diapers, hand sanitizer, crackers, cookies, and everything else I had been whining about that was weighing down my backpack. She accepted immediately and her kids started eating everything I had given them. They were obviously hungry. She told me that they had been homeless for a long time, but just a week ago got an apartment. I told her I was proud of her. We commiserated mom-to-mom.

And then I felt better. My backpack and heart was lighter. Who cares if I have to put my kid on a leash at the zoo or downtown Dallas? She's safe. We have a home, food, and friends. That's the important part. And even if I'm forced to drive a mini-van someday, I will try to remember what's important and thank God for my vehicle.

Kid Leash

I am typing this with one eye peeking out from my hands which cover my face in shame. I put Claire on a leash today.

And I now apologize to my friend who gave me the leash (She didn't know I cringed when I received it.) and every mother I've ever laughed at for putting her child on a leash. Please accept my humblest of apologies.

Our niece, Morgan, is staying with us for her spring break. She's eight and a good helper/Claire distracter. We took her to the zoo today, which sounded like a good idea until we realized 10,000 other people had the same idea.

Paul was strapped to my chest in the Baby Bjorn and Claire rode in the wagon/held hands. Morgan rotated between pulling the wagon and riding in it. All was well until Claire started getting tired and fussy. She didn't want to hold hands, she didn't want to ride, she really wanted lunch and a nap, but wasn't getting the nap yet. In desperation, I got out the kid leash.

It's not horrible looking. It's actually quite friendly-looking. It's shaped like a monkey backpack, with the tail as the restraining mechanism for your unruly child.

So I was tired, tired of carrying a giant baby on my chest, tired of the crowd and heat, and tired of fighting with Claire. I hooked her on the leash, swallowing all my pride and yours, too.

I scanned the crowd, searching people's faces for the response I know I give others who use kid leashes. No one seemed to notice or care. Except Claire. She loved it! "This is my monkey leash!" she said proudly. Morgan held her leash and was able to show her several exhibits I couldn't get to with the wagon and Buddha baby on my belly.

So I apologize. The leash saved my child and my sanity today. I didn't have to spank her or fight with her or search the zoo for her. She was happy, and actually cried when we took it off. If you want to put your kid on a leash, I will no longer judge you.

Claire picked out a pink snake for paul

Claire and her new companion

Paul's new hat

Rattlesnake roundup

Updates

Paul started crawling today. Watch out! I have been looking forward to/dreading this day for a while. Now I have two mobile kids to keep up with.

Claire has been developing her social skills with regular playdates. When we started playing with other kids a few months ago, she fought and wouldn't share. She's getting the picture now and even offers turns on different toys. That's not to say that she doesn't yell "Mine!" every once in a while, but she is getting better.

According to the Wii Fit, I am no longer obese, just overweight.

I have been staying home more the past few weeks and loving it. I don't get cabin fever. There's always something to do and never enough time to do it.

Adam and I are watching less and less television. We were Tivoing all our favorite shows, but it is impossible to watch TV at the dinner table with two kids. We try (and often fail) to have conversations instead.

Because I paid dues for a semester, I returned to the mom's club at the local Baptist church. This month, everyone wore pajamas. I literally didn't get the memo. Since I don't attend that church, I miss out on stuff like that. Also, gambling was brought up, and all the ladies at my table told me with a straight face that if they were in Vegas or Shreveport they wouldn't even play slot machines. "We're Baptists. We don't believe in gambling." I told them my Baptist grandma gambles in Shreveport regularly....They said, "Well, she must not really be Baptist." I told them my grandpa is a deacon in the church...That shut them up.

I find that group of ladies exclusive, condescending, and unfriendly. There is one nice lady in the entire group. She is the main reason I go. But I started thinking, and if I joined this group to meet ladies in my neighborhood and make friends, and I'm not doing that....And if I come home from each meeting disappointed and judgmental, maybe I should quit. Adam reminded me that, while many things that happen are often ridiculous to us, I am going on their turf and should be more respectful.

I've also gotten smart about cleaning house. I have a regular date set up on Friday mornings for one of Claire's friends to come over to distract her so I can clean. This morning I vacuumed, swept, and mopped the entire house while they played. It was awesome.

And tomorrow Adam is taking Claire to Sweetwater, OK for something called the Rattlesnake Roundup. Apparently it's a county fair with rattlesnakes. I will be taking Paul to an immigration hearing in Dallas.

I think that gets us all caught up on the news in our house.

Claire's first trip to the dentist

Adam's favorite pizza joint in Austin

Just Another Manic Monday

Yesterday was hectic. Here's what happened.

4 a.m. Paul wakes up hungry. I feed him and fall back asleep.

7:15 a.m. Adam's alarm goes off for the umpteenth time and I finally hear it. I jolted out of bed and ran to make coffee.

7:20 a.m. Check e-mail for just a minute.

7:21 a.m. Claire hollers and I hope she goes back to sleep for a few minutes.

7:22 a.m. Coupon cutting ensues.

7:23 a.m. Paul wakes back up and is hungry again. Adam fumbles through the kitchen, ironing his shirt.

7:30 a.m. Claire screams again. I sigh and go get her up.

7:45 a.m. Breakfast commences. En lieu of Bible study, I cut coupons.

8:20 a.m. Adam flies out of the house, late for work.

10:30 a.m. Kids and I are bathed, dressed, and fed. Ready to go shop.

10:45 a.m. We walk into Costco. Claire's bathroom trips = 1

11:15 a.m. We walk into Target. Claire's bathroom trips = 1

Noon We walk into Kroger. Claire's bathroom trips = 3, Spilled milk = 1, Leaking baby food jars = 1, Crying baby = 1, Fights between a toddler and a baby = 3 or 4, Elderly shoppers getting tripped up by a toddler = 3 or 4, Claire squats in the aisle, mimicking going potty = 10

2 p.m. We walk out of Kroger and apologize to Adam for the tardiness of his lunch.

2:10 p.m. Fly into the house, throw lunch together, serve it, throw the kids in the bed for a nap and start putting up groceries.

4 p.m. Get kids up to go to church for two meetings. Several snacks, potty trips, and changes of clothes later, we get in the car at 5:00.

5:02 p.m. Paul starts crying uncontrollably.

5:23 p.m. We pull into the church parking lot and realize we have lost a pacifier.

5:24 p.m. I hand off the kids and drive as fast as I can to Walgreen's.

5:35 p.m. Made it to the first meeting.

6:30 p.m. Nursery workers leave, telling me they weren't booked for the second meeting.

6:35 p.m. I take my kids to the meeting.

6:45 p.m. More nursery workers appear and I am relieved.

8:00 p.m. Dash home, feed Paul immediately, start dinner immediately, get Adam to bathe the kids.

9:10 p.m. Dinner on table.

10 p.m. Kids in bed. Cleanup commences.

11 p.m. Attempt to watch TV with Adam, but collapse within 30 seconds or so.

So tell me...When does the "stay-at-home" mom part start?

Skunks and curse words

I have finally almost successfully trained Claire to say the words "frog" and "bench." Just a short time ago she couldn't pronounce them and when she tried, they sounded like curse words. (I'll let you use your head to figure out which ones.)

Even at church, she was throwing those words around. "Let's go sit on the b...." "Look, there's a picture of a f... in the nursery!"

Anyway, she says those words right now, mostly. Today, though, I taught her about skunks. We were driving through Benbrook and smelled one. I told her about how they spray, stink, etc. She seemed to get the concept.

A couple of hours later, at lunch, she started shouting what sounded like the "c" word to Adam. Yes, the big one. She said it over, and over, and over. It took me several minutes to figure out she was trying to say "skunk."

So heed this warning. If you hear Claire shout the "c" word, you know there's a skunk nearby. And also know that I'm trying to teach her correctly. I will try to explain to people, "No, I don't curse in front of my children. No, she doesn't watch TV with curse words on it. She comes up with these words all on her own." It's the truth!

Churchy-ness

I love our church...Love, love love it! When we walk in on Sunday morning, we are greeted with a hug by several sweet seniors at the door. We have a hard time making it anywhere in the building because we are stopped about every 15 seconds or so for a hug or a story. All my friends at church are authentic people...They know they are flawed and don't try to hide it. They, like everyone else in the world, are trying to be good people. I love that I can see someone at my church on Sunday and again on Friday outside of church and they are the same person. I love being Methodist.

I was raised Baptist. When friends from church came over, my parents made sure that all the liquor and beer was hidden in the garage. Nowadays, Adam and I don't hide the liquor and beer when church friends come over....We get it out and offer it to them!

Since I haven't attended a Baptist church regularly in almost 10 years, I forget the differences. I joined a mom's group at a Baptist church by our house so I could meet moms in the neighborhood. I have been consistently disappointed.

I attended a play group and introduced myself to everyone in the joint and had a hard time finding someone who was part of my organization. When I finally did, the conversation was over after the exchange of names. I was actively trying to engage people in conversation and make new friends and failed.

Last night I attended the monthly meeting and was horrified at several happenings.
1. When I asked about a lady that was absent, I was told that she wasn't coming back because she couldn't afford it. It's $40 a semester. I asked for her contact information and offered to pay for her myself....It wasn't given to me.

2. When sympathy was expressed for a lady who had been dealing with sick children, the woman next to me leaned over and whispered, "That's what happens when you don't breastfeed your kids."

3. A panel of husbands sat through a Q & A session. We submitted anonymous questions, some of which were censored. The ones that made it were cheesy...."What was your favorite Valentine?" "What's the best part of being a dad?" Blech.

One question was, "What do you really want from your wife?"
The answer: "Respect and recognition that I am the leader of the household. Respect for my decisions as leader, even if they are wrong."

I'm not lying. This guy sat in a room full of women, asserted his superiority and no one blinked! I couldn't believe it. I told Adam if he ever said that he would be in trouble. Adam replied, "I would never say that because it's not true. Does that guy think women are just chattel?"

It's hard for me to believe that these people are working for the same things I am. That they are trying to make the world a better place and spread as much love as they can. I'm trying hard to fight labels and judging, but when I see such a stark difference in my church and that one, I get upset. Maybe I'm naive. Maybe these people exist at my church too and I just don't know them. I don't know, but the more I go to this Baptist church, the more I love being Methodist.

Adam and paul at esparza's

Out of the mouths of babes

Here's some funny things Claire has said the past few days:

"I've got gas." (In reference to her shopping cart going to a gas station. Of course, this was followed by an accident in her new panties.)

"I love my big sister." (Yes, she has a hard time distinguishing herself from her brother.)

"I want a coupon."

"Where is her mommy?" (In reference to every character in every book I read her.)

"I'm a Kick-a-Poo Indian!" (Actual tribe. I've been calling her that since she was a baby and would kick her dirty diaper....You get the picture.)

Fat

This morning I was trying to take advantage of cancelled activities to exercise with my "Arms and Abs of Steel" video. My arms and abs remain flabby and the video remains paused in the VCR.

I was interrupted during my 15-minute workout by:
one phone call
one poopy diaper
one load of laundry
one crying toddler who walked right into the 3 lb. weight I was swinging
one giant glass of water spilled

The workout is, as I said, only 15-minutes.

Panties and patience

Today is day 11 of Claire wearing panties. She is officially potty-trained, kind of.

I wasn't pushing her. We've been working on it off and on for over a year. Santa brought her a singing potty for Christmas 2007. We've done bribery, celebrations, explanations, peer pressure, and many other techniques, but I finally just had to bite the bullet and do it.

The catalyst was when she was at a playdate and told the mom that she needed a diaper change. "If she's telling you that," the mom said, "She's ready." The next day we were in panties with few objections.

That's not to say we haven't had any accidents. The first couple of days were rough, with pee-pee and poo-poo accidents, but we're getting better. I'm also getting more observant to her body language.

Sometimes it's real hard to figure out what she's telling me, like when she crawled under the table the other day and hid. She kept putting her hand on her backside, feeling for something. It was pretty funny, but what was hilarious was Adam laughing so much about it that he imitated her later. (She was unaware.) So a hint to all those potty-training parents out there: When your kid hides under the table and grabs her crack, she probably needs to go potty.

We're doing much better. We haven't had an accident in two days, with the exception of church last night. I left her and Paul in the nursery for an hour. I took her potty before I left. While I was gone, she wet herself twice. The nursery worker got so frustrated (I do understand) that she stretched Paul's diaper out and put it on Claire. Paul's bottom is so big that the 7 month old baby's diapers can be stretched to fit a 2 1/2 year old!

And now I am completely immune to being grossed out by poo.

Paul at razoo's