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It only took almost four years, but I think we finally have Ethan sleeping through the night. I know. What is wrong with those people that let their kids get up 700 times a night? He really just wants to sleep in between his mom and his dad. In fact, he says, "I just want to sleep in between my mom and my dad."
The trouble is, there is no room in a queen size bed for a grown man, a large pregnant woman and a boy who sleeps all over the place. Frankly, I would just like to not be awakened one or two times every single night. I don't think I have slept through the night in four years. And since sharing the bed with Ethan means Ethan shares MY half of the bed, I had to shut it down.
But what to do? I know people that lock their kids in their room and let them cry it out but my friend still sounds traumatized when she regales me with stories of being locked in her room. She is nearly 40.
We decided to lock our room instead. Wonder of wonders, it worked. After five minutes of hysteria outside our door, Ethan began negotiating.
E: Mom. Dad. If you promise to keep your door open and leave the light on in the bathroom, I'll stay in my bed.
It sounded too good to be true. I have no idea where the light thing came from but whatever. He was off to his room and is going on three weeks of staying in his bed. He does get up occasionally to check that our door is open and if it is not, he opens it.
I failed to do the math that an open door with a bathroom light on would be a bad combination for me.
Growing up, I shared a room with Jen a fair amount of the time. Jen liked to torment with a variety of things. First and foremost, she liked to set the alarm for two hours before she had to get up and then hit snooze every nine minutes until she got up. I, of course, woke up the first time the alarm went off and stayed awake. It made me a bitter girl.
The next big thing was that for my entire life, I have to have complete darkness when I sleep. So my sister would leave our room, go across the hall, turn on the bathroom light and then come back and crack my door. You know that light shined in my face.
Fastforward a few decades later. Wouldn't you know that light from the bathroom SHINES IN MY FACE. My husband just laughed when he realized what was happening. But a deal is a deal is a deal. Every night now I fall asleep to that light shining in my eyes. But I'm not waking up twice a night with my head in the stinky armpit of a three-year-old.
The things we do for our kids.
Summer was almost over by the time I started catching on to conversations like this:
Carter: "How much money is there?"
Madeleine: "I don't know, let me check the vault."
Carter: "Okay, just make sure you put it in the shared account."
Shared account? Vault? What's going on here?
They finally confessed they had decided to pool resources for some time (hence the "shared" account) in hopes of crossing some items off their Christmas list. Santa? Who needs Santa when we can cat sit and dog sit and bird sit our way to kid toy/game heaven a month before the elves leave the station?
A few more months of saving and scheming and working and taking every stray penny that fell on the floor, they were able to make their goal and take their ziploc bag full of dollars and bills to the store of their choosing to make a very hefty purchase.
I won't go into the details here, but the bottom line? My kids shocked the socks off me by making a grownup size acquisition on a kid size budget--and neither one of them gets an allowance. I really think the only way it was able to happen was because they kept parental involvement to an absolute minimum and did it in a way that made sense to them.
Here are a few ingredients of their success. Feel free to run these by your school-age kids to see which ideas match their own style of sibling-powered saving and spending.
Divvy up responsibilities. Madeleine did the bulk of the work, but was sometimes tempted to bail on the plan and go to the movies instead. Carter had the discipline of a drill sergeant and kept that wild-spirited Madeleine on track. Not one dollar slipped through his hands.
Spread the word. Carter asked me fifteen times a day if I had any ideas about how he could make money while Madeleine offered to dog sit anyone's dog in the neighborhood at our summer block party. Our neighbors knew if there were any little jobs appropriate for kids, ours would be into it.
Remember the mantra: Sharing now means sharing later. I asked Madeleine why she decided to go in with Carter when she clearly had more earning power. "Well," she answered. "I don't think I could have done it without Carter. Having Carter made it easier. And now we both have the same right to play on that thing. It wouldn't be as much fun if it was only mine and then Carter was bugging me to use it and I had to decide to share or not. This way it belongs to both of us." Fair enough.
Do you remember doing similar projects when you were a kid? Do you think your kids could do what you did then, now? What's your take on kids buying things for themselves?
It was the night before Marmie (my mom) was to return home to Miami after 6 days of grandparenting bliss. The boys were holding each other and crying in their bunk beds. It was so bad that Jorge climbed up into the top bunk to console them, it was quite a scene. My mom could barely stand it.
"It's okay mom, they'll be fine.", I assured her. It gets a little worse each time, the happiness of being together and the sadness of living so far apart.
"Well Marmie, we're comin' to your house for Christmas." Jorge said after 45 minutes of getting them settled and to sleep.
We all laughed only to find out later he actually promised this, and we did in fact have to travel with three small children and an infant 1200 miles. Driving of course, because who can afford that many plane tickets? Even though this is probably a terrible idea I was secretly very excited. I'm going home for Christmas.
So now the countdown begins. The kids pretty much talk about it everyday. Josiah asks exactly how long we will be staying (he's asked this about 100 times). Jack talks about swimming on Christmas day as my parents live in Miami. Lucy suggests we go to Marmie and father's house for Christmas pretty much every other day but she insists that TODAY is Christmas and we must leave right away. Lyra now only cries half the time when she is in the car and usually when the car is stopped. This fits perfectly into Jorge's plan of driving straight thru while we pee in bottles in the backseat.
What love. I guess there is something about older people in your life. Like Santa they listen to your biggest dream. They put dollars or coins in your birthday cards. They spend time with you and are delighted by everything you do. They give good advice. They love you with no agenda.
So Christmas, bring your joy, we'll soak it up...especially the old people.
I heard them upstairs talking with a door between them. Technically Nathan was screaming but Ethan was talking.
E: Hey, Buddy. It's time to take a nap.
N: AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
E: Buddy. Even I am going to take a nap today.
N: AAAAAAHHHH!
E: Nate, do you know what you can do?
There is a pause in the wailing.
E: Do you know that you can do? If you don't want to sleep (dropping his voice), you could just play in your room. Sometimes that's what I do. When Mom tells me to go to sleep but I don't want to, I just play. You could do that too.
Bless his heart, the wailing started up again. I guess Nathan decided that he preferred his freedom to anarchy. But at least now he knows his options for next time. I guess that is why little brothers have big brothers, right?
Some holidays are high on oxytocin, the mothering hormone that makes you actually love these little people who are running you ragged all year long. Other years the holidays are a matter of survival. Put one foot in front of the other. Focus in on their eyes. Listen to what's actually being said. Tune out the little monologue in your head and help yourself to another plate of turkey--tryptophan as mommy's little helper.
I'm having one of those Thanksgiving weekends this year. Nothing too tragic, just the overall awareness that nothing's perfect and there's more than a little repair work to be done in this fixer-upper life of mine. Here's my Rx for holidays that are more feel-better than feel-good.
Send in for the supersisters. Go ahead, lock yourself in the bathroom for five minutes and dial out. Your supersisters can totally hang with a five minute conversation to help you regain your equilibrium. An even better option? See if that tried-and-true friend will do the holidays with you. Everything got easier for me on Thursday when Fatou walked in the door.
Do what's right in front of you. That's right. Focus in on the next task and give it all your attention and love. If that means chopping, chop. If that means sweeping, sweep. By drilling down to this one essential moment, you open yourself up to a new point of view that isn't quite so glum.
Leave the heavy lifting for later. Now is not the time to fix your marriage or figure out the intricate missteps of your complicated childhood. No, leave that for another day when you have time and energy to make real progress. If you really cannot leave your family dysfunction on the back burner for now, throw in a movie and let someone else's fictitious rendition distract you. My dysfunctional family favorites? The Family Stone and One True Thing.
Let a little child lead you. Kids know how to have fun any day of the week, whether the turkey is ready or not. See if you can insert yourself in whatever game or activity has them going right now. A little lego-time, one chapter out of a favorite book, even running around and making noise--all of it will help you get out of your head and into the now.
Eject if necessary. Every mother has years where she needs a little break from all the chaos to get her bearings. Volunteer to run the errand, pick up the butter, take the dog for a walk. Even fifteen minutes out of the house can turn things around in a major way.
What helps you turn the holidays around?
What makes a great thanksgiving?
Being with great friends
Stand in grandparents when you can't be with your own
Turkey rubber duckies
Oscar the Cat
The edible pilgrim hat cookie craft
Blessing boxes
Rockband
Playing highly competitive board games late into the night, boys vs. girls a must
Feeling full
Blessings overflowing
Let's relish in the holiday a moment longer before the next holiday rolls over us. What made your Thanksgiving great? or not so great?
At this time of year, it seems like it's the middle of the night practically 70% of the day. I wake up in the morning and it is pitch black out. Five o'clock? Pitch black.
So the other morning part of me cringed when I laid in bed. I was sure it was 3 a.m. when I heard the pitter patter of little feet moving across the bedroom floor. Wordlessly his father pulled Nate into bed and plopped him down in the middle of us. I remained silent and didn't move a muscle. Sometimes playing possum can buy you a few more minutes sleep.
He began to chat with great animation in his garbled baby talk that is slowly growing into big boy conversation. His father grunted responses but I remained silent. After about five minutes, he realized I was in bed too.
Nathan: Mommymommymommymommy.
K: Good morning, Nathan. Go back to sleep. It's night time.
He flipped over to face his father and said "MOMMY."
Derek: That's right. Mom's in bed with us. Go back to sleep.
Nathan: (sighing happily) Mommy.
With that he began to awkwardly pat my back.
Nathan: 'ove you.
Kristen: I love you too, Nae.
Nathan: 'ove you.
Kristen: I love you too, Buddy.
I flashed to the moment Lindsay from Graco told the world on Twitter that her two-year-old had told her that she loved her (unsolicited) for the first time. I remembered not being able to remember when Ethan had done that and feeling a little sad. Now here I was in bed in the middle of the night (it was actually 6:28 a.m.) and I was having this incredibly sweet moment that I would remember forever because there were no other distractions from life to draw me away.
Moments later his brother joined us in bed and it just got crazy as they started a tickle war. As tired as I was, I laid there for just a few minutes more, basking in the delight that is my life. These funny, spirited, wonderful kids and their amazing father: it's what I am most thankful for this year.
I used to have visions of lovely tables with artful placecards and cloth napkins, freshly bathed children and of-the-earth side dishes adorning a perfectly cooked organic free range turkey. This would be secondary, of course, to our long cherished holiday traditions rife with homemade charm and heartfelt sharing (see lovely note above). We would be one of those families, the ones that make your mouth gape open when you read about them in Mothering magazine. The ones who are so casually down to earth that surely they can only be nothing but absolutely perfect.
The real Thanksgiving (at least at my house) is way more complicated. There are no discernible traditions to speak of. We are more the pajama, wear-what-you-had-on yesterday kind of celebrants. The dishes are laden with preservatives, cream, butter and an ungodly amount of bacon. The guests are from down the street, up the block, around the world--a collection of stray friends with no where else to go, not to mention the occasional stranger.
This is how we do the holidays--laid back, open to outsiders, and for the most part, fairly stress-free.
There's no way to know which pieces of our holiday habits our kids will hold on to twenty Thanksgivings from now. I don't think my mother had any idea how all those years in the kitchen would turn out to be the most cherished memory of all--even if in reality she spent years doing all of the cooking before we were old enough to help. Still, these little quirky things we keep returning to are the stuff of our holiday stories. Our attempts at perfection will quickly be forgotten, but all the rest? That will stay, and for this I'm so, so glad.
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Here's a little holiday survey to take with your kids. Use these questions on your own tribe or answer for yourself.
Do you have any memories of Thanksgiving when you were a little kid? (Little kids especially love to answer this kind of question.)
What's your favorite thing about Thanksgiving?
Do you have a secret Thanksgiving wish?
Comments are open for your favorite replies.
I always feel like Thanksgiving somehow gets lost in the shuffle between Halloween and Christmas. It's the less glamorous holiday but it continues to be my most favorite.
My sisters and I have to call each other a minimum of 684 times preparing for the day and that's if we are spending it together. Lord only knows the number if we are not.
It is a tradition to talk excessively about what time to put the turkey in and how it is never ready on time anyway. Who cares about the turkey, it's all about the side dishes. The recipes no longer exist on a 3x5 card, you must track down my mother or a younger sister with a better memory. These are the things that make a holiday.
As the years go by, I find myself marking experiences that bring us together in my own little family. Sometimes they are carefully crafted and others just spontaneously happen, some make their way into memory boxes and other just live in our thoughts.
I saw the idea of making a Thankfulness tree around the web the last few days and
thought it might be fun to make with the kids.
Of course, any project with hopes of success should start with a snack.
And then there is the token be-careful-with-the-scissors warning.
The boys cut out the leaves while I cut out the tree.
Here are the leaves, we wrote what we are thankful for on them.
This is my very nobby tree.
A few things we are thankful for: Legos, little sisters, the blackberry (papa's choice), pizza, facebook...
Our not finished tree, we thought we might take it with us on Thanksgiving day so everybody can add to it.
Who knows, it might be the next treasured tradition?
What are your Thanksgiving family traditions? Any new ones you are working on cultivating or do you prefer the kind that unfold on their own? do share...
The woman walked by with her two-year-old in a stroller. People stared in disbelief as the little girl scrolled her way through her mother's playlist on her I-Pod, looking for her favorite songs.
"I know, I know," she said, mistaking the look on my face. "I am indulging her but she's tired of being at this craft show. If I wanted to make my way through the whole thing, I had to buy her time by letting her use it."
I clarified that that look on my face was one of empathy (I have one of those kids) and the overwhelming sense that if these kids are making their way through our technology at two, what's going to happen when they are 12?
Derek showed Ethan how to access a game on his phone. He really couldn't explain the game to him because the game was complicated (and he probably couldn't figure it out himself). Now we find Ethan hiding in hallways, playing the game over and over, reaching new levels every day. Today my phone was missing. This photo shows you where my phone was hiding. I just didn't expect them to both be playing the game. These kids (and technology) are going to be the death of me.