Oh the irony - a post about haircuts and spankings

My Mom and Dad went to New York this weekend to be present at the very, very small wedding of my Dad's cousin, Johnny. It was so small, that with the addition of my parents, the total people present at the wedding - including the bride and groom and pastor -- was 5.

On the way back, Dad and Mom stopped at our house for breakfast. Lester made pancakes from scratch. I made cinnamon apples. We ate until we were stuffed, and sat around the table talking about the latest NFL scandal involving a football player who "disciplined' his 4-year-old by beating him with a switch until he tore the skin and left marks that were visible three days later. This turned into a debate about spanking vs. not spanking.

While we were debating, the kids were entertaining themselves, sometimes watching TV, sometimes playing with toys, sometimes running through the house making a lot of noise. We pretty much ignored them, because we keep trying not to hover quite so much -- "benign neglect" for their benefit and ours. And the discipline debate was pretty passionate, so we also kinda forgot about them. (Just being honest.)

And then Dean decided to play barber shop and cut two huge chunks out of the side and back of Clair's hair:

This is more hair than it looks like, because her hair is so tightly coiled. Today, my poor daughter has a combover -- a look she will be rocking for many months to come.

I posted this status message on Facebook about it:

Parents and grandparents downstairs at the breakfast table, passionately debating old school vs. new school ways of disciplining children. To make the discussion less hypothetical, my helpful boy decides to cut huge chunks out of Clair's hair. Grandparents leave after breakfast -- smug.

Which makes the irony of it all seem kinda funny. Oh, kids -- they sure have good timing. Ha. Ha. Ha. And I suppose I can see how at a certain point, it will be funny. But believe me, as I combed through her hair and more and more curls kept coming out into my hand, I was almost in tears.

Here's my dirty little secret: I wanted to spank Dean. I really did. I wanted to yell and scream and really punish him. I felt like he needed to know how serious what he did was. I could totally identify with that parental urge to make him understand his crime, and instill in him a fear of repercussions that would make him never, ever do that again.

But I didn't --WE didn't, Lester and I. Instead, we made him go to his room and lie down - separated from us, his grandparents, the TV and the cinnamon apples. He stayed there for three and a half hours (he fell asleep).


If I had not just been arguing with my parents about my belief that we can raise our children to be well-behaved, respectful and good decision makers without spanking them, would I have chosen that way of punishing him? I think I would. I hope I would. And here's why:

Aside from the obvious arguments about respecting a child's personhood, and about the hypocrisy of teaching children not to hit when we, ourselves, him them, I just don't believe in my heart of hearts that spankings work. I think they make children fearful, yes, but not of the thing parents hope. In fact, I think they only serve to make them fear YOU.

I don't want Dean to fear me. What I want is for him to learn to better regulate his impulses. I want him to try harder to remember that scissors are for cutting paper and paper only. And that he is not supposed to even handle scissors when an adult is not around. We've told him these things many times, but I believe this kind of learning takes place over time -- not by dealing a swift blow to knock it out of him once and for all.

I don't want my children to fear me. I want them to love, respect and trust me.  And that won't happen if they think I will hurt them.

Cary, Dean and Clair: I will not hurt you, my littlest loves. I will love you and guide you and teach you and, yes, discipline you. I will make mistakes, that is a guarantee. But I will try my absolute hardest not to ever hurt you. Even when you do ridiculously stupid things like CUT YOUR SISTER'S HAIR, WHICH TOOK THREE FRIKKIN' YEARS TO GET LONG ENOUGH FOR ME TO ACTUALLY STYLE!!!

P.S. Later we found out that Cary was in on the cutting game too; he snipped a little bit of fabric out of Clair's prettiest pink tutu. (Clair was far more upset about that than she was about her hair). By the time the full story unfolded, I was too tapped out from having to put my money where my mouth was to really grasp what happened. Thankfully, Lester had his wits about him and sent Cary to bed too. So when the boys woke up at 3:30, they both had missed lunch. It was too early for dinner, and they both wanted snacks. But I held my ground and didn't give them anything, and I patiently explained why: They missed lunch because they had to go to bed while the rest of us ate, because they both did something very bad. And now they had to wait until dinner to eat. Let me tell you -- this was probably the best punishment I could ever have dreamed up. These kids love to eat -- snacks especially! So I think they got the message. I hope so anyway.

I didn't have to spank them; their little growling bellies were pain and suffering enough!

Paci-free!

I have been reluctant to share this because we all know that as soon as you declare something publicly with children, they decide to flip the whole thing on you, just to show you who's boss.

But it's been eight whole nights and so I think (hope? pray?) I'm in the clear.

Clair has not had her pacifier since Sunday Aug. 30th!!

My original goal was to put a stop to her nighttime addiction when she turned 2. That deadline was blown out of the water by her supreme-and-total love for that danged thing. If we even suggested she could sleep without it, she would FLIP. OUT.

Is that Sophie in that picture? Awwww! Sophie!

So our new deadline became 3. I didn't want to do it right after she started school because I thought that was too many changes, and that we'd be taking away her one source of comfort. (Poor thing.) So I was all prepared to defy the dentist's admonitions about the pacifier and let her have it a few more months. OK,  I also didn't want to deal with it. But it was mostly about Clair and her comfort! Or halfway about Clair. Whatever.

Anyway, then we went to my friend Andrea's wedding and had the kids sleep overnight at my parents. I somehow forgot the pacifier. My Mom called to tell me we forgot it, and there was a moment of panic (mine). But then I remembered that whenever Michelle would babysit for us at night, and put the kids to sleep, she would never give Clair her paci, and my child would be just fine with that. Like, Southern belle agreeable about it. But with us? FANTASTIC, ACADEMY-AWARD-WINNING FLIPPING OUT.

Anyway, Clair slept without her paci at my parents without incident. So the next night, at home, I just decided to keep it up. I just didn't give her her paci. It was touch and go there for a minute, especially the first couple nights. She slept, but not without giving me the Spanish Inquisition. Seriously, this girl should work for the NSA or something. She would NOT let up. If I knew state secrets, I probably would have given them to her, just to get her to shut up and go to sleep! Eventually I had to lie get creative and tell her the paci-fairy came and took all the pacis to give them to little babies who needed them. This didn't fully satisfy her - in fact, it kinda freaked her out that there was someone in her room who she couldn't see, and that caused a whole chain reaction of other sleep challenges. (#notmysmartestidea) ...

But there was nothing she could do about the fact that there were no more pacis, so eventually, finally, she just accepted it, and slept. And now, she doesn't even ask about it anymore!

Unless something crazy happens (and I have learned enough in my few years of parenting to know that that is entirely possible), I feel fairly ...hmm.. somewhat? ...sorta comfortable declaring our house officially paci-free!

Best email I might ever have gotten!

Today, Lester and I got this email from Miss Michelle, Clair's teacher:

Clair had a great day!!!!

Inbox

Michelle C.

Hi Tanika and Lester,

 

I hope you both had a wonderful Monday.  I am just writing you to let you know how proud of Clair I am.  She is doing awesome and is so smart.  I just wanted you to know that. 

 

She did great with pick up too.  Clair is rocking it!  Clair's family tree came out awesome too.  Thank you so much for the pictures.  I will be hanging them up soon.  Teddy Bear Day tomorrow:-)

 

God Bless and Have a Wonderful Evening! 

 

Miss Michelle

 

 

Yes!!  Our little Clair totally ROCKS it!

Best email ever!

Week one for the boys is in the books!

Cary and Dean finished up their first week at their new school, with nary a complaint to register.

No tears, no mishaps, no nothin'...It's amazing.

Here they are when I picked them up on their first day. See something missing on Cary? Yes. My child broke his glasses. Again. But look how happy he is. Dean was happy too. But he was too busy asking me if we were going to the playground to be bothered to smile.

We also had two-plus days of the new sitter, Miss Arlene. And although Clair is still not really feeling her AT ALL, when I get home from work, she is usually happily ignoring the sitter and playing boisterously with her brothers. As long as she isn't sitting in a corner sobbing or shaking in fear, it is all good with me.

I did come home early the first day of her working and was surprised that no one was there. I called through the house, peeked out the back door, checked upstairs. No kids. No Arlene. Her car was outside and her purse was in the living room. She must be here, I thought. The last place I had left to check was the basement. I put my hand on the door knob to go down there and in a split second, my brain conjured up an image of my children with their throats slit and Miss Arlene dead.

That is how crazy I am, y'all. I just knew this new babysitter had murdered my children and committed suicide. My heart was beating out of my chest. I was freaking out.
When I finally gathered the courage (and the common sense: "Get it together, Tanika!") of course, she wasn't downstairs. And neither were my murdered children.

In fact, she had just taken my very happy and safe children for a walk, because Dean had written a "letter" - literally, he wrote the letter "D" on a piece of paper, folded it up and put it in an envelope - to no one in particular and wanted to mail it. So Arlene drew a stamp on his little envelope and walked with them in search of a mailbox. She didn't kill them. She was actually being VERY sweet to them.

I felt like a heel. And a nut.

But I'll get better. We'll all get better. We're all getting adjusted to the new, much more hectic schedule, and by the end of the day every single one of us is pooped. The kids crash at bedtime like they were working in the salt mines all day. Last night I was asleep by 8:50 p.m. 

But I can tell things are going to get easier. Today, Clair still clung to me for far too long, but didn't cry at all when I dropped her off. In fact, when her teacher took her hand, she simply said in a small voice, "Bye, Mommy," and I closed the pre-K 2 door, and walked away.

Of course, I felt a mixture of pride and happiness and sadness.

Our babies are in school. All three of them. They leave us in the morning and we don't see them again all day long. They are learning things that we don't teach them. They are experiencing things that have absolutely nothing to do with us. In fact, most of the things that happen in their day, we won't even know they've seen or heard or done or felt.

This is the natural course of life, I know. And it is good. And sad. And crazy.
And normal.

Clair's first week is in the books!

Clair's first week of school has been less eventful than I thought, but not as smooth as I'd hoped.

Like most families, I suppose, we've been on a roller coaster of emotions.

Day 2 was Lester's early day at work, so he had to take Clair to school, since I had to wait for Michelle to arrive.


During summer camp, when I asked Lester how Clair did at drop-off, he lied spared my feelings by saying she did "OK," or "just fine." But on Clair's second day of preK -- the first time we left her there alone -- he couldn't even sugar coat it: "Oh, she was so hurt," he said, sadly. "She cried and cried. It was terrible."

Day 2 was a half-day, so I left work to pick her up and bring her home. When I got to her, she was all smiles, and her teacher said she only cried at drop-off and not a tear after that. "She did great today," she said. And on the car ride home, Clair even told me what she did at school! "My teacher reed a book. I see my friends [not that she actually has any.] I eat some snaaaack."
It was great! I don't think Cary and Dean have ever re-capped their day for me. Ever.

On Clair's day 3, Lester dropped her off again because I had to be in Annapolis at 9 a.m. with the boys (long story). His report: "No tears. Minimal clinging. I was pleasantly surprised."

But I was still worried because Day 3 was the first ever "nap in the class" day, which seemed to me to be a potentially high-octane event, just ripe for meltdowns and nervousness. So after I dropped the boys off at home, I went to her school and peeked in on her in the class. Imagine my surprise - and happiness -- when I walked in on this:

That's her teacher, Miss Michelle. I can't tell you how good it felt for me to walk in unannounced and see her teacher sitting there with her hand on my baby girl, comforting her as she slept. Or pretended to sleep.

The closer I got to Clair, the more I could see her eyes flitting about under her eyelids. So I don't think she was actually asleep here. But she was trying! They said it was naptime, so my girl was doing her best to take a nap! Brava, Clair!

I was soooo relieved. I still got weepy seeing her in there trying so hard to do what the teachers wanted her to do. What a good girl! And also, what a poor baby, having to sleep in class and not in her own little bed in her own little room. Ugh. My little baby girl! But I felt like maybe we were on the right path. The pre-school director hugged me on the way out the door. I'm such a sap!

Then this morning, I dropped her off again and guess what? TEARS galore. Ugh!

So I suppose the roller coaster is still in full force, and likely will be for awhile, as next week is another crazy week, getting the boys acclimated to school. She'll even have to get picked up by Miss Arlene -- the new babysitter -- who she has met twice (and thrown her shade both times) and I know that is going to freak her out!

Bottom line: I will be really glad when we are in a solid, predictable routine again. For her sake, and for mine.

Two cute/funny things from this week to note:

In Clair's classroom, the teachers put labels in the cubbies so they'll know who's full-time, who's half-day, who's three days a week, etc. Except for some reason, instead of writing "full-time" on Clair's label, they accidentally wrote "fun time." This tickled me to no end. Clair Davis: Fun times, man. Fun. Times. Hahahaha!

And Cary and Dean - who are so confused as to why Clair's in school and they're not -- got handwritten cards from their new teacher in the mail! They were SO excited!

Isn't that cute? I'm looking forward to them starting school next week. And dreading the craziness that next week is sure to be.

Hello, roller coaster. Please go away soon.

Clair's (sorta) first day of school!

Today was Clair's first day in the 2s class!

It's so nice only having to convince one child to look at the camera!

I call it her sorta first day, because it was only an hour and a half long, and we were there with her the whole time. *Tomorrow* is the real first day, when she has to stay from 8 to 11:30 -- alone. And then Thursday, she has to stay the FULL day -- until 2:30 p.m., which means she even has to nap there. Yikes.

Poor baby girl. Next week, when the boys start school, her world will be rocked even more, because she will not only have to stay for the full day, but she will also be picked up by a new caregiver, because this is Michelle's last week with us. I'm too sad to talk about that right now - really, it's too much.

So let's focus on Clair's (sorta) first day!

First of all, for one small child, we sure had to bring a lot of stuff.

The class did a gradual entry today, so only nine of the 16 kids in the class were there this morning. Guess how many of the nine Clair played with? If you guessed "not a one," you are correct!

She stuck close to us, not even venturing off to explore all the exciting toys unless one of us was near.

Making breakfast for Daddy.

Mommy's big going-to-school girl!

 She enjoyed decorating her name-tag and putting stickers all over it.

She didn't cry at all, thank goodness, though there was some whininess. But for the most part, I would say she was generally unimpressed with the whole thing.

Unimpressed is better than freaked the funk out, so I'll take it.

Because tomorrow, my friends, is another day altogether.
Pray for us.

Well-played, Princess Pink, you stealth ninja, you.

I was driving with the kids yesterday to meet a friend and her kids for ice cream when we passed a shopping center.


Clair yells to me from the backseat: "Mommy! (she said "Mommy" like 13 times because she has that hilarious toddler stutter). Mommy! Can-can-can-can-can-can-can-can we go in the pink store?"

I had no idea what she was talking about until I turned quickly and saw the T-Mobile store, which looked something like this.

"Oh no, baby. That's not a store for kids. It's a phone store. It's for adults to buy phones," I said.

Clair responded: "But-but-but-but-but-but-but it's PINK!"

She was not saying adult stores that sell phones shouldn't be pink. She was saying she NEEDED to go in that store because it was pink, regardless of what was actually being sold in it. Pink = need!

At the ice cream shop, Clair didn't want any of the ice creams available because none of them were pink. So she settled for vanilla ice cream with a heap of pink sprinkles. She ate the sprinkles and stirred the ice cream into a pale pink soup. Then she drank it.

Three days ago, when Lester was taking the kids to the park, I packed snacks and water bottles for them. Clair's sippy cup was among the missing (as usual), so I gave her what is supposed to be her "school cup." It used to be Dean's, but it now has her name on it. It's stainless steel with blue and yellow accents (you know the one.)

She recoiled when she saw it and screamed, "Nooooooo! I want my gur-rul cup! (She says "girl" like "squirrel.") I don't want that cup! That's DEAN'S! I want my GUR-RUL CUP!"

I had no idea what she was talking about, until we realized she wanted one that we took to the beach with us, with pink and turquoise polka dots on it.

She flat out refused the stainless steel one and cried until we poured the water into the cheap plastic polka-dotted one.

Oh, she also calls her navy blue Mary Jane shoes her "princess shoes" and asks if every girl she sees on coloring books or TV commercials is a princess. One day I put on my clothes for work and felt especially winning, so I smiled down at my child and said to her, "How does Mommy look?"

She took in my slacks and flat shoes and said disapprovingly, "You-you-you-you-you not a princess."

I PROMISE you, we have never called anything in our house a "girl" anything or a "boy" anything.

Even with my love of little girls in little girly things, we have not pushed pink on her in any way. Her room is green. Her bookbag is Sesame Street's brand of primary colors. I like to think she wears clothes in lots of different colors, pink included, but not exclusively. And the poor girl barely has toys of her own, because we thought it was stupid to buy them when her brothers had a zillion toys she could play with. But the ones she does have are not any more pink than they are green or blue or multi-colored.

And we have NO princess anything in our house, other than the daily 10,000 playings of "Let it Go" on my iPod. Not that I am opposed to princesses - or pink. But we just haven't gotten there yet. Or so I thought.

I say all this to say: Well-played Princess Industrial Complex. Somehow you have pinkafied my daughter and I don't even know how. 

Clair and her hair

Remember how when I was pregnant with Clair, my curls just went completely away? That's how I knew I was having a girl, even before the ultrasound confirmed it. I knew she was stealing my curls to populate her own little head.

Apparently our heads of hair are still connected, because as my hair is getting thinner (Seriously, folks. I have like 22 strands of hair left on my head), Clair's hair is getting thicker and thicker.

 

Y'all.

Pray for me as her beautifully thick head of hair just gets longer, curlier and coiler.

And pray for our bank accounts, slowly being depleted to pay for all of the hair products.

Thank you. God bless you. Good night.

"...but the years are short."

I have quite a few friends who have recently had babies.

They are exhilarated by their newest loves. They are also exhausted. Some, I can tell, are wondering how they will make it through the long nights and the topsy-turvy days.

I remember the feeling, oh so well. Keenly, I can remember my eyes burning from sobbing and sleep-deprivation. I remember my body's soreness, my fuse's quickness. And that out-of-body, nerves all a-fire, slightly manic feeling of being mother to a new human being -- a feeling that dissipates at moments, but never seems to fully disappear.

Or so it seems.

The fact is, my friends, you will get back to a semblance of normal. Not the old one, but a new normal, and the you you used to be will slowly return. You will get through these upturned days and bleary-eyed nights.You will flourish actually. You're doing so much better than you think you are.

If you can remember to in the midst, drink it all in.

Because one day, before you have time to really register that it has happened, this:

...will have turned into this:

Right before your very eyes.

And you'll think back on those nights of holding your baby close, while you were all she needed.

And your eyes will burn again - a warm and bittersweet sting. Because it's true, what they all told you.

The days are long. But the years are so, so short. 

I've got 99 problems and my kids are 3 of them

Sometimes all my kids are going along swimmingly, being insane but normally so, nothing special to report. Same ole, same ole. Another day another diaper.

But these days, I have issues with each one of them. Issues I honestly am not sure how to handle.

Let's start with the oldest, shall we?

Cary: He wore his glasses for two days without problems. Then, all of a sudden, when people are around, he refuses to wear them. At my mother's house, he donned a Batman mask to avoid having to put on his specs. At church, he wouldn't go into his classroom with them on - just flat out refused. And today, when I made him put them on, he took them off and flung them to the floor.
I know part of the problem is that we made a huge tactical error by making a big deal out of the glasses and how cool they were in the beginning. My Dad came by and oohed and aahed; we even asked the hostess at Gertrude's to tell him how handsome he was in his new glasses, which she was happy to do (because he DOES look cute in them!) Turns out, Cary doesn't love all the attention his glasses bring. He told me, "I don't want people to say things about them!" But why he doesn't want to wear them even at home all of sudden, I have no idea. And I don't know what to do to convince him that he has to wear them. I don't want to turn the idea of his glasses into a sore spot, but I keep finding myself threatening him with timeout if he doesn't put them on. The doctor was adamant that he has to wear them full-time or else his vision could get worse. So what else can I do?
Color me stumped.

See? Here he is lying in the bed "reading" a book WITHOUT his glasses.

Dean: Did I post here before about the time Dean stashed a lollipop under his pillow, to eat, I suppose, after the rest of us had gone to bed? I can't remember if I told you all that story. But nevermind that because guess who did it again? This time with a STOLEN piece of candy from Target? Yes, you guessed it. My middle child. While I was in North Carolina for my friend Laurie's 50th birthday, Lester had to take all three kids to Target. At the checkout counter, apparently, Dean spied a piece of candy he wanted, tucked it into his pocket, carried it all the way home, put the candy under his pillow, got undressed, put his pajamas on, and said not. a. word. the whole time about his contraband. Lester only discovered it because the child who has the sophistication to swipe candy, stash it away, DELAY GRATIFICATION (helloooo!) and keep a poker face the entire time is still only 4 and too young to realize that he had to pick up his pillow (hey dumb-dumb, move your hiding place next time, eh?) to get in the bed after our nighttime prayers. Of course, after Lester found the candy, there was a long conversation about stealing and what that means and about honesty, etc. Lester told me later he was "crestfallen" about it. And I am too. I know that Dean doesn't really understand what "stealing" is, but the fact that he is capable of that kind of planned-out deceit is ...unnerving. Not totally surprising -- he's always been the child who looks for things to get into to. But still, it's alarming. Even if he is only 4.
Color me flummoxed.

No cavities at this last check-up, but I don't know what will happen if he keeps stashing candy under his pillow at night. Also, how can I get him to use his powers for good?!?!

Clair:  The first day of summer camp went OK. The next day, not as well, but still OK. By Day 3, she was in tears from the time we started getting her dressed until after Lester dropped the kids off at school. She cries great big, sad tears, and pleads with us with her eyes not to send her to school. "I don't want to go to camp!" she wails. "I want to stay here with Mommy and MiMi!" It breaks my heart. And now, I guess because she's so freaked out by being left at summer camp, she also has reverted back to acting the fool at children's church. Yesterday, for the first time in forever, they flashed us on the screen during service to come get her from her class. Some of it has to do with the fact that yesterday was the day they moved all the pre-school kids up a level, so the boys went from the 3s to the 4s and Clair went from the 18-24mos. class to the 2-year-olds class. So the change wigged her out, I know. But she was crying at home before we even left for church, once she ascertained where we were going. She refused to put her shoes on, thinking that would prevent us from taking her. And at one point, she even started climbing, barefoot and resolute, up the stairs, saying, "I want to stay here - by myself." It rips my heart out the way she cries, and it also affects my mood for a good part of the day. She's just so highly-anxious! I also really worry now about what will happen when we (hopefully/prayerfully) find a new person to take care of the kids afterschool. She LOVES Michelle and will likely flip the funk out when her time with us is up.
Church, camp, school in the fall, a new caregiver -- I just think this whole transition is going to suck suck suck. 
Color me defeated.

How can you be so cute and independent and fearless sometimes and so fearful and anxious and maddening other times? Quit breaking Momma's heart, girl!

Turns out there were tears after all...

So after Clair's triumphant entry into the world of being dropped off and left behind by working parents, the dust has settled and the verdict is: Fair to middlin.'

Michelle picked the kids up at noon and the teacher (also named Miss Michelle, but not the same Miss Michelle that the boys had last year. Keep up, people.) said that Clair cried a few times, but only in short stints. Our Michelle told us that when Clair saw her waiting outside the school, she took off running, tears and all, crying, "Meeeeee-Meeeeee!"

When I asked the kids later how they all did, Dean said, "Mommy, Clairzee did good! She only cried THREE times!"

:-(

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I actually cried about that many times myself yesterday -- and I honestly would not have predicted that leaving her at school would make me weepy.  So I suppose she and I were both a little emotional yesterday. My baby girl and me: simpatico.

Funny story: When I asked Clair what she did at summer camp, she smiled and said in a sing-song voice, "I played with my toys. I ate snack. I played with my friennnnnds."

(Dean, from the peanut gallery, "She mostly just played with me, Mommy." Thank you, Town Crier.)

But when Lester came home a little bit later and asked her the same question, she said, "I crying! I crying two times, Daddy. I want Mommy and Daddy." She even poked out her bottom lip!

Of course, Lester scooped her up and hugged her tight and then carried her around like a little baby after that, so I guess mission accomplished, Clair. #wellplayed

I also think it's interesting that I got more commentary out of Clair on her very first day than I have gotten out of Cary and Dean in two years of going to school. "What'd you do today C or D?" "Nothing." "Who'd you play with?" "No one." "What'd you learn about today?" "Nothing."

So thank the Lord for Clair. Maybe I'll actually know what the hell goes on in school all day long now that she's there.

This morning, she complained a little bit about not wanting to go to summer camp, but when I left her, this is what she was doing:

So I kissed her, assured her Michelle would pick them all up later and headed for the door.

She didn't cry when I left and I haven't so much as welled up yet.

So I declare today a good day -- for her and for me.

Clair starts summer camp!

This is a big week for Clairzee!

First the dentist (which she totally aced), now this. Today Clair started three days a week of summer camp, which is basically just school in the summer.

Again, Lester and I worried ourselves into a tizzy about how she'd do.I couldn't sleep for two nights, thinking about her being in distress and what we would do if she had a conniption at drop-off. After all, aside from church, this is the first time we've ever dropped her off somewhere and left. Ever.

Guess what? Yet again, our baby girl surprised the heck out of us.

She galloped into the school, went into the classroom, said hello to the teachers, and immediately started playing with toys.  No crying, no worrying, nuthin'.

Another good thing: One of the teachers in the summer camp class is going to be Clair's actual teacher in the fall! So yay!

Lester wanted to make sure we didn't trigger Clair's anxiety by lingering too long, so I barely even got to take pictures or say a real good bye. I feel a little ...I don't know...something about all this. Especially because it was so hurried. Like, right now, I sorta feel on the verge of tears, and I'm not exactly sure why. I'm definitely distracted, so I'm going to need to do some mindfulness/centering exercises or something to get any real work done today. (And by mindfulness/centering exercises, of course I mean "chocolate.")

But mostly, I'm just grateful that Clair has Cary and Dean there with her to ease her transition into school. In the fall, she'll be by herself there -- because C and D will be going to their new school across town.

But for a few weeks this summer, they're my three little amigos (hermanos?) and everybody seems quite happy.

 

I guess. (Sniff.)

Clair's 1st visit to the dentist!

Clair went to the dentist today for the first time.

Knowing our highly anxious, people-averse daughter, Lester and I steeled ourselves for the worst. We both took the morning off work to be there, just in case the craziness was at DEFCON 1.

Color us shocked and giddy when Clair got up in the chair (after watching Cary do it first), opened her mouth, said "Ahhh," answered the hygienist's and the doctor's questions, got a very short cleaning, and climbed back down when it was over -- LIKE A BOSS.

A little nervous, perhaps, but still compliant! And not crying!

Look how awesome she is doing!

It looks like they listed her full name, Clair Elise, but there was actually another brand new patient today named Elise. So cute.

She even played in and around the waiting room toys with other children. Willingly!

She is getting so much better guys! I really was so, so proud of her.

Now, let's see how it goes tomorrow when we drop her off at summer camp and LEAVE HER THERE. Lord.help.us.

My daughter is giving me fits!

Look at that little face in that picture, happily drawing a pretty little work of art, little peach-colored bows in her hair, smiling away.

Ain't she cute, y'all? So so sweet, right?

Do you want her?

Because seriously.
The 'tude? (Already!) The sass? The defiance? The screaming? The INSUBORDINATION! (That was one of my favorite words from the Code of Student Conduct in school.)

Last night, I told her several times to stop pushing herself away from the dinner table, because she was making a mess with all her food. Finally, I pushed her in (again) and said sternly, "Clair, do not push this chair out from the table again. Do you understand?"

She turned her head away from me -- and sloooooowly pushed her chair out, just a hair, and said, "I can do whatever I want."

I. can. do. whatever. I. want.

Folks, I didn't even know what to do, or say. How does one respond to that coming from a 2-year-old with a runny nose and crazy hair?

I do not know what to do with her, y'all. 

I bought her four pairs of sandals for the spring/summer. She flat out refuses to wear any of them. Screams bloody murder and cries huge crocodile tears, chest heaving, face contorted, "WHY DO YOU ABUSE ME SO MOMMY?! I JUST WANT TO WEAR MY NEEKERS!"

Do you know how many adorable little dresses will not get worn because they won't look right with her big clunky sneakers? Do you know how much time it took me to find just the right pairs of cute little-girl sandals? Do you know how much money it costs to buy four pairs of just the right little girl sandals? Do you know this is my personal horror?! A little girl in the summer without cute little sandals and adorable dresses? Why does Clair HATE ME?

You should have seen how terrible she was to Matty this weekend. She was so mad that he was there, touching her toys, breathing her air. She absolutely WOULD NOT share. Like, not even a little bit. And no amount of bribing, cajoling, praising, or time-outing worked. Her will is iron strong, folks. She's like a war-torn spy or something. She does. not. break.

She's started this refusing-to-go-to-sleep thing at naptime and at bedtime. And as is now par for the course with her, she brings on the drama, crying hysterically, "I DON'T WANNA GODABED!" And Lester melts, holding her in his arms while she fake cries into his shoulder and he rubs her back and looks at me like, "Why are you forcing her to go to sleep at night, Mommy Dearest?"

Last night, after I made her cry it out at 8:15 because she didn't want to go to bed, she was awake again at 11 p.m., crying because she has a horrible case of the sniffles and can't breathe. I wiped her nose, comforted her, sung her a little song, and tried to get her back to sleep, but to no avail. Lester -- ever the sucker for her tiny, tear-stained face -- eventually just brought her into our bed, and there she stayed -- kicking and pulling at the covers and poking me and whispering and kicking some more -- until I finally carried her conked out body back into her crib at FOUR A.M.

Lester's alarm went off at 5 a.m. Cary came into my room at 6:05, whining that his mouth hurts.(Is this the age when kids get molars or something? He seems to have a toothache, which confounds me because I really thought we were past this teething business.) I dragged myself out of bed at 6:15 - missed my morning walk, thank you CLAIR! -- and figured I'd at least have a somewhat quiet morning without Princess Cray-Cray because she would likely sleep the morning away after the night she had.

So when Clair was up at 7:15, I nearly lost it. REALLY? You were up all night! How are you awake already, whining about being hungry and needing water and "Can I watch TV?"

Y'all -- I do not know what to do with her. I always said I wanted my children to have strong personalities, but COME ON.

When I was pregnant with her, all I prayed for was sweet, compliant and healthy. All I got was healthy.

God has a sense of humor, I know. But I am too exhausted to laugh.

Chopped!

You know how I've been going back and forth about whether I should cut my hair?

And how it's a bigger deal than it probably should be, because I have had long(ish) hair since forever. Seriously. I've had the same hairstyle since college, basically. I cut it once - and died it light brown, too, with blondish highlights. Boy, was that a drastic change! -- and only once. That was in 1995 or 1996.

So I really was on the fence. But I was so sick of my boring ole hair. And I was really sick of seeing my forehead. And the thinning was really bothering me. The longer it got, the thinner it seemed.

So I started looking at celebrity haircuts, to see what shorter cuts I liked. Over the last few weeks, I've pored over hundreds of pictures. It was overwhelming. But I narrowed it down to two.

Of course, my hair isn't the texture of either one of these lovely women's. The strands of my hair are finer and frizzier and, in general, there's just less of it.

But I decided to give it a shot. What could be the worst thing that could happen? And no matter what, my hair would grow, right?

So last night after work - for the first time in 18 or 19 years, I cut my hair. Chopped off about 5 inches -- and got me some bangs! Bow-chicka-bow-wow!

Not exactly Kerry Washington, but who is?

It didn't turn out to be quite the hair of those lucky celebrities with thick, gorgeous tresses -- whose names I don't know.  But it's not bad, either.

I like it fine so far, but I think I'll like it better in a day or two. Lester likes it OK, I think. But it'll take some getting used to.

The best thing: Clair said to me TWICE this morning, "Mommy, you looka pretty!"

My boys didn't even notice. LOL.

Moral of this whole story? I'm so happy God gave me a daughter.

Children are good for the soul

Whenever I am starting to feel like my day is going to hell in a handbasket, I stop and look at this video and crack up laughing.

Yesterday, on KJ Dell'Antonia's blog, she asked readers to write in and say what they like about parenting, since it seems we modern parents just love to whine about how hard parenting is. (It's true. We do. But that's because IT IS!)

And, without even thinking first about what I was going to say, or reading the other comments, this is what I wrote:


My children crack me up like almost no one else. I laugh when they're being adorable and silly, of course, but I also laugh when they are trying to pull one over on me and have NO CLUE that I have been there, done that a thousand times before. ("Hey Mom. Umm, I don't think I can eat any more vegetables because I think I have to sneeze, so I'm allergic maybe.") I laugh when I overhear the three of them having "serious" conversations with one another, using the few grown-up words they know. I laugh when they dance awkwardly and without abandon. I laugh when my 2-year-old admonishes me for ..well...for everything. She's always admonishing me in her little cartoon voice -- a harbinger of the teenage years to come, I guess. I laugh when they inadvertently thwart my husband's covert attempts to be "frisky" by yelling, "No hugging Mama!" I laugh when they belly laugh to the point of breathlessness at Frog and Toad or Quack from Peep in the Big Wide World. When I don't want to cry from how hard being a parent is -- sorry Lee Leander -- I just laugh all the time because of my three sweeties. I have never laughed so much as I have since becoming a mother 4 years ago. 

Looking at that video of Clair -- can't you see why that was my response?

They say that laughter is good for the soul. And my children make me laugh all the time. Therefore, all is well with my soul.

Hooray!

The Cary-Clair dynamic

Cary, last night, referring to Clair:

"Mommy, why does my brain keep telling me, 'Tease her, tease her?'"

Seriously guys. He loves to torture her. And not just in the typical "take her toys, make her cry" kind of ways. He finds subtle ways to make her know that she is not in the Cary-Dean Cool Club. All the time.


If I say, "Guys, look at these shirts I bought you!" And they say, "Wow! Cool!" And then I tell Clair, "Here's your new shirt, sweetie!" Cary will turn to her, quick as lightning, and say, "That's not cool at all, Clair!" For no reason! She wasn't paying him any attention. Her shirt has nothing to DO with him!

What is that all about?? I can't stand it!

He taunts her, runs to jump in a space if he sees her headed for it, closes doors when he sees her coming in, complains incessantly if I lie her down on his bed to change her into her pajamas. "Get off my beddddddd!" he whines. "That's my bed!"

I guess I have a basic understanding of sibling rivalry, but this seems to go beyond. 

Dean does not do this to her. He has his almost-4-year-old moments of being selfish and not so nice, of course. But mostly, he cares for Clair, looks after her, gets a little distressed if she cries too long or too hard. He's patient with her and will, on many occasions, automatically include her in whatever it is he and his brother are doing. More than anything, it seems, he is not threatened by her presence, like Cary seems to be. In fact, he seems to rather enjoy her being a part of things. So why doesn't Cary?

Parents of twins and other siblings - tell me: Does this get better over time?

I didn't realize one damn thing.

Because of a weird aberration in our family schedule, I had a few hours alone with Clair this morning.

I read a little to her, and she "read" back to me. We played chase through the house. She watched "Pingu" while I did her hair, and I cracked up every time she cracked up at the mischievous little penguin and his antics.

And she decided that she wanted to do Cary and Dean's dinosaur puzzle, even though she has no idea how to put together a big kid puzzle. She made a huge mess on the floor and got hilariously mad when the mismatched pieces wouldn't fit.

And while I was sitting there enjoying my baby girl immensely, I realized...

Well, you know what? I didn't actually realize anything.

Don't you get sick of feeling like every moment is supposed to be some great epiphany about parenting or magical childhoods or the meaning of life or some such?

Really, I just sat on the floor and enjoyed being with my daughter. That's all.

And it was pretty great. So I thought I'd share.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Three things

Three things happened this weekend that made me stop and take note.

The first one is that we decided to keep Clair home from church on Sunday because she has a troublesome cough and a runny nose. The weather was super crappy -- cold, sideways rain, ridiculous winds. It seemed better to keep her home in her jammies. But I really wanted to go to church, so Lester agreed to stay home with Clair, and the boys and I braved the wind and rain and went.
When I got to the screen where you sign up the kids for Children's Church, I noticed that in parentheses next to our kids' names, it says "expected." Some of the other names say "guest" and others don't have a label. So I took from that that the church expects us to be there on Sundays.
This made me feel really good, for some reason. We're expected to be there. We'd be missed if we weren't. This is how I know this is the right church for us. At other points in my life, that one word, expected, might have made me feel pressure. But the church is so welcoming and warm, instead I felt good -- like a part of the family.

It's a really nice feeling.

Secondly, at tumbling class on Saturday, Clair didn't screech like a dying cat when another child entered into her play space. And at a birthday party for a friend's 1-year-old, she actually TALKED to a 3-year-old girl who was near her. She spoke to her, people. Willingly! The girl had a magenta party hat, and Clair's hat had rainbow stripes. Clair looked at the girl and said, "Das yours? Das your hat?" The little girl, Gabriella, said, yes. And then Clair said, "What color yours?"

Hellooooo, do you see what just happened there? She expressed interest in another human being, and initiated -- INITIATED -- a conversation!

I almost fell over. My child might not be a total misanthrope her whole life.

This face fools people all the time. She is really not that friendly.

Lastly, Dean seems to have grown 100 inches over the last few months. And his bossy (yes, I said "bossy!") caretaker, I-can-do-it personality has only intensified.

Birth order notwithstanding, it is so clear who the Big Brother is in our family. 

Working, playing, leaving a legacy

I got to hang out with my favorite girl this weekend, Miss Super Spunky Drives Me Crazy Cracks Me Up and Makes My Heart Soar girl.

(Sidenote: My parents visited on Sunday and at one point Dad says to me, "You are so enamored with Clair," which is the second time someone has said that to me. [The other was my mother, come to think of it, when Clair was a tiny infant.] Is it that obvious how much I adore this girl? Do I need an intervention?)

We went to her tumbling class and then to the mall to buy a gift for a friend of mine who recently got married.

She loves this ball pit o' germs.

Introducing her to food court Asian food!

While we were out spending Mommy-Clairzee time, Lester and the boys went to learn about "flying things" at Science Alive at Masonville Cove.

Dean, wearing the wings he and Lester made, and looking like a young Sidney Poitier, who, by the way, is one of Lester's favorite actors!

Our friends Antwyne and Mari unexpectedly brought their son Antony too! So the boys had a friend to hang out with, which makes me so happy. The more friends they see having fun with science, the more likely they are to think that science is cool, right? (Or so I tell myself.)

Antony and Dean bird-watching.

Checking out a bird's nest. Mari tells me the boys were none-too-pleased that the bird wasn't considerate enough to be home while they were shaking that tree.

And on Monday, I had a day off from work because Michelle was off. So after picking the boys up from school, we all went to a playground and to lunch!

Abby and Maya came with us!

She wanted to be gently pushed without stopping, to the point where she was ever-so-slightly falling asleep in the swing. LOL.

All this great time spent with my littlest loved ones made me think that being a SAHM mom wouldn't actually be so bad, IF we could afford it. The boys are 10,000 times less crazy than they were even a year ago at this time, when I would have stabbed you in the eyes with Bobby pins if you even suggested the idea of me staying home with the children. My Monday off with them moved so smoothly -- from drop-off to pick-up to bedtime dance party, rockin' out to the Jackson 5.

I was so much more relaxed and present all day. I think that was the nicest thing -- being actually present with them, instead of running on fumes and frustration.

Being at home would also be nice, because it would be good to get to do the things *I* want to do with the children during the day, instead of hoping Michelle will do them (which, most of the time, she doesn't.)

And it would be lovely to get to spend more than two hours a day with the children I actually prayed for.

But we are committed to sending our children to private school, for many reasons (which I promise I will get to in a dedicated blog post soonest), and to giving them a life of experiences that we believe will enrich them and improve their futures. And, while we are far from wealthy, we also hope that we can do more for them financially than our parents ever could, in terms of helping them pay for school, or buy a first home. By doing so, we hope the kids as adults will be in even better positions than we are, so that their kids will be even better off coming out of the starting gate. We want to leave a legacy that maybe our grandchildren will realize -- something that happens far too infrequently in the black community, sad to say it.

So that means Momma Gotsta Go To Work. (Cue Vanessa Williams' "Work to Do.")

So I'll cram a lot of fun and Mommy-and-me time into weekends and post-work-hours during the week, and trust that a little dance partying goes a long way.