I'm talking about the fundraising era.
When I picked Boo up from daycare on Friday, there was a big white envelope in his cubby. This white envelope contained none other than a Otis Spunkmeyer cookie pamphlet and an order sheet for the $16 cookie dough tubs. Also included was a letter about prizes and such
Sigh.
My competitive nature says GAME FACE ON. And I'm totally for the fundraising thing. In fact, I'm quite good at it.
Here's the thing.
Is this technically my fundraiser? Or Isaac's? Because let's face it, he's three and unable to ask people to buy the overpriced cookie dough (sorry Spunkmeyer, but you know it's true). It's basically me asking people to buy them. Which, meh. I'm just not seeing the point.
I pay his tuition. I provide food for parties. I buy school pictures. Why do we need a fundraiser for daycare, anyway?
15 more years of this...that's alot of cookie dough and wrapping paper.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Committment
I try really hard to leave school at school so that when I am at home, I can be AT HOME. It doesn't work. Somehow, I end up bringing something home. Especially now, this close to the end of the semester. I understand it, and so does Ben. The person that doesn't is Isaac Boo.
About this time last semester, Isaac wanted to watch Cars. I put in on for him, and then he told me that he wanted to watch "Mater and the Ghostlight" which is a 7 minute Pixar short that is included on the disc. I was tired and had a bunch of work to do. I told him no because I didn't want to have to wait for it to finish so I could start the actual movie. He cried and asked again. I told him no again.
And then Ben came in and asked what the problem was. I told him and he said he would lay with him while he watched it and start the movie after. I went downstairs to start the dishes.
And to start crying.
I had just flipped out and told my son that I didn't have time to watch a 7 minute movie with him. 7 minutes. What kind of mother doesn't have 7 minutes for her son?
When we lived in California, it was Isaac and me a lot of the time. I took him to the park to feed the ducks all the time. I took him to swing. I took him to see the big trucks. We played ball-in-tree. I miss those times. We got used to it, both of us.
We made big sacrifices moving back here, that we were fully aware of. We knew what we would be giving up and what we stood to gain. The person that was not aware of those sacrifices was Isaac Boo. We were prepared but he wasn't.
There comes a time that enough becomes enough, that sacrifices become to great. What was more important to me, a clean sink or 7 minutes with my son? A letter grade or a walk to the park? I had to start drawing lines and rebalancing. Something wasn't working.
This degree, my studies, my research are all so very very important to me. But not more so than my beautiful baby boo.
I decided that no matter what my schedule, no matter was due, no matter what the day or how late we got home, Isaac was going to get one hour of solid, undistracted, mommy time.
It works for both of us.
We do puzzles. We read books. We color. We take Luna to the park. We make blanket forts and watch Bambi.
It's perfect. And although I might have to give up some sleep or some cleanliness. I don't care if my house is clean. I don't care if I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't care if I get a B instead of an A (ok, I kinda do because I am total type A, but I can deal, or at least I am learning to). My baby is only my baby once. He's only 3 once. And while I won't remember what I got on the GIS test in a decade or so, I will however, remember this time with Isaac when he sings the Bumblebee song to me.
This commitment to him is the easiest one I have ever had to make. It's a commitment that is hard to keep sometimes, but is the easiest to try for.
About this time last semester, Isaac wanted to watch Cars. I put in on for him, and then he told me that he wanted to watch "Mater and the Ghostlight" which is a 7 minute Pixar short that is included on the disc. I was tired and had a bunch of work to do. I told him no because I didn't want to have to wait for it to finish so I could start the actual movie. He cried and asked again. I told him no again.
And then Ben came in and asked what the problem was. I told him and he said he would lay with him while he watched it and start the movie after. I went downstairs to start the dishes.
And to start crying.
I had just flipped out and told my son that I didn't have time to watch a 7 minute movie with him. 7 minutes. What kind of mother doesn't have 7 minutes for her son?
When we lived in California, it was Isaac and me a lot of the time. I took him to the park to feed the ducks all the time. I took him to swing. I took him to see the big trucks. We played ball-in-tree. I miss those times. We got used to it, both of us.
We made big sacrifices moving back here, that we were fully aware of. We knew what we would be giving up and what we stood to gain. The person that was not aware of those sacrifices was Isaac Boo. We were prepared but he wasn't.
There comes a time that enough becomes enough, that sacrifices become to great. What was more important to me, a clean sink or 7 minutes with my son? A letter grade or a walk to the park? I had to start drawing lines and rebalancing. Something wasn't working.
This degree, my studies, my research are all so very very important to me. But not more so than my beautiful baby boo.
I decided that no matter what my schedule, no matter was due, no matter what the day or how late we got home, Isaac was going to get one hour of solid, undistracted, mommy time.
It works for both of us.
We do puzzles. We read books. We color. We take Luna to the park. We make blanket forts and watch Bambi.
It's perfect. And although I might have to give up some sleep or some cleanliness. I don't care if my house is clean. I don't care if I have dark circles under my eyes. I don't care if I get a B instead of an A (ok, I kinda do because I am total type A, but I can deal, or at least I am learning to). My baby is only my baby once. He's only 3 once. And while I won't remember what I got on the GIS test in a decade or so, I will however, remember this time with Isaac when he sings the Bumblebee song to me.
This commitment to him is the easiest one I have ever had to make. It's a commitment that is hard to keep sometimes, but is the easiest to try for.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
A Three Year-Old Is the Best Birth Control EVER
At least mine is.
Before I say anything else, I LOVE MY SON MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD AND I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM.
However, he's driving me insane. His second year, the "terrible two's" were relatively uneventful. We skated through that year. There were occasional fits and tantrums. And then he turned three. Still not a big fuss.
Last month someone flipped a switch and replaced my little boy with a POSSESSED CHILD.
It's hard. And trying. There's alot of crying by him and me.. He's pushing buttons and limits. He's throwing fits. It's like walking on eggshells. Sometimes when I do give him exactly what he wants, I don't give it to him HOW he wants it. Like milk with one ice cube in the orange cup with no lid. God help me if I don't get a portion of the request correct. Sometimes it's just easier to give him what he wants. Others I fight him on. I mean, that what parenting is, right? Making your kids hate you and feeling guilty about it?
The other night I asked Isaac what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a hot dog. "Two ones" to be exact. I said that he could eat one and then have another if he finished it all. He came back a few seconds later to ask for the second one. I asked where the hot dog went. "I gave it to Luna." Sigh.
This proceeded to happen with the subsequent grilled cheese. And green beans.
Finally, he seemed really excited to eat taquitos. I let him put them on the tray and put them in the oven. He watched them heat up through the oven door.
And then he bit into one, decided it was too hot, inedible and gave it to Luna. (Note: at this point Luna has had a lovely dinner of hot dogs, grilled cheese, green beans, and a taquito. Isaac has eaten NOTHING.) I told him if he didn't eat the taquitos he would get a time out. He fed Luna another one. To the time out chair we went. He started crying. And saying he wanted his taquitos. So I brought him one, which he proceeded to throw at me. Score another one for Luna. I knelt down to give him a stern lecture, and HE KICKED ME IN THE FACE. He got spanked. Put in the bathtub, into pjs, and sent to bed with no dinner.
By the time he got sent to bed, he was no longer upset. He called out to me about 20 minutes after I had tucked him in. "Mama! I'm hungry!"
This is where my heart started to break. I was torn between my motherly instinct to feed my hungry, crying baby and sticking to my guns to prove a point. A point that I wasn't even sure he was old enough to understand. He came downstairs, crying and I held strong. He went back up to his room and I could hear him crying and saying he was hungry. By the time Ben got home, he was quiet and I was the one crying.
What was I supposed to do? Ben talked to him. Told him what he did was bad and he couldn't behave that way. We eventually caved and gave him goldfish pretzels and cheese.
This scenario, along with others and the overall attitude of my child these days, has made me understand why people either space their children out by more than 3 years or have more before the first hits 3. It's mentally, emotionally, and physically EXHAUSTING. I am so drained, I have absolutely no desire to even think about having another child until Isaac is well past this age.
Before I say anything else, I LOVE MY SON MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE IN THE WORLD AND I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM.
However, he's driving me insane. His second year, the "terrible two's" were relatively uneventful. We skated through that year. There were occasional fits and tantrums. And then he turned three. Still not a big fuss.
Last month someone flipped a switch and replaced my little boy with a POSSESSED CHILD.
It's hard. And trying. There's alot of crying by him and me.. He's pushing buttons and limits. He's throwing fits. It's like walking on eggshells. Sometimes when I do give him exactly what he wants, I don't give it to him HOW he wants it. Like milk with one ice cube in the orange cup with no lid. God help me if I don't get a portion of the request correct. Sometimes it's just easier to give him what he wants. Others I fight him on. I mean, that what parenting is, right? Making your kids hate you and feeling guilty about it?
The other night I asked Isaac what he wanted for dinner. He said he wanted a hot dog. "Two ones" to be exact. I said that he could eat one and then have another if he finished it all. He came back a few seconds later to ask for the second one. I asked where the hot dog went. "I gave it to Luna." Sigh.
This proceeded to happen with the subsequent grilled cheese. And green beans.
Finally, he seemed really excited to eat taquitos. I let him put them on the tray and put them in the oven. He watched them heat up through the oven door.
And then he bit into one, decided it was too hot, inedible and gave it to Luna. (Note: at this point Luna has had a lovely dinner of hot dogs, grilled cheese, green beans, and a taquito. Isaac has eaten NOTHING.) I told him if he didn't eat the taquitos he would get a time out. He fed Luna another one. To the time out chair we went. He started crying. And saying he wanted his taquitos. So I brought him one, which he proceeded to throw at me. Score another one for Luna. I knelt down to give him a stern lecture, and HE KICKED ME IN THE FACE. He got spanked. Put in the bathtub, into pjs, and sent to bed with no dinner.
By the time he got sent to bed, he was no longer upset. He called out to me about 20 minutes after I had tucked him in. "Mama! I'm hungry!"
This is where my heart started to break. I was torn between my motherly instinct to feed my hungry, crying baby and sticking to my guns to prove a point. A point that I wasn't even sure he was old enough to understand. He came downstairs, crying and I held strong. He went back up to his room and I could hear him crying and saying he was hungry. By the time Ben got home, he was quiet and I was the one crying.
What was I supposed to do? Ben talked to him. Told him what he did was bad and he couldn't behave that way. We eventually caved and gave him goldfish pretzels and cheese.
This scenario, along with others and the overall attitude of my child these days, has made me understand why people either space their children out by more than 3 years or have more before the first hits 3. It's mentally, emotionally, and physically EXHAUSTING. I am so drained, I have absolutely no desire to even think about having another child until Isaac is well past this age.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Trade Off
When we lived in California, I never worried about money. My husband pulled a 6 figure salary, and I had a steady job. Yes, our rent was more than what we pay in three months out here, and a gallon of milk often cost as much as a kidney, but we were fine. Although I bitched about frivolous spending, we didn't worry about it as much. We paid our bills on time, more than the minimums, we saved, and we lived our lives.
Except we didn't have lives.
Correction, my husband didn't have a life outside work.
While he loved the amounts of his paychecks, he was working 24/7. When he wasn't physically at work, he was on the computer or on the phone. Let's face it, that kind of salary is never attached to a 40 hour work week. Since he was working so much in San Francisco, he often stayed in the office apartment above the store. It was an hour drive each way, and when you aren't leaving until 9 and have to be back by 7, there's not a lot of sense in coming home to sleep for a few hours. There were days when Isaac didn't see his dad, until we figured out how to Skype. Ben would go on business trips, meetings, trainings out of state, and we couldn't even do that much. We had to reschedule our Disneyland trip 3 times. 3 TIMES!
I didn't worry about money, but I did worry about my marriage. It was just me and Isaac ALL THE TIME. Even when Ben was home, we were hard pressed to find a babysitter so we could go to dinner or to a movie.
When we knew we were moving across the country, we started saving and paying off more. I started planning how we were going to survive on one third of what we were making. It's been rough. I didn't plan as well as I thought I did. Ben messed up his back and has been to all kinds of doctors for tests. One of the cars has needed repairs. SNOW TIRES, ugh.
Anyway, now I worry about money all the time. Like, I wake up at night for Isaac and I can't fall back asleep because my mind won't turn off. But you know what I don't worry about? MY MARRIAGE. I see my husband everyday. EVERY SINGLE DAY. When we have a problem, we can talk about it, face to face. We resolve things. Isaac sees his dad in real life, not over a computer screen. Most days, we eat dinner together. When Ben is home, he is HOME, not on the phone constantly or worrying about numbers or customer issues or whatnot. He's worried about, well, nothing. (Except maybe the fact that his wife is seriously inept at keeping up with laundry). We get to be a family. A broke family, but we are a family that sees each other.
This is a trade off I am willing to deal with. Somehow, dealing with money troubles seems immensely easier than dealing with marriage troubles. I'll take it.
Except we didn't have lives.
Correction, my husband didn't have a life outside work.
While he loved the amounts of his paychecks, he was working 24/7. When he wasn't physically at work, he was on the computer or on the phone. Let's face it, that kind of salary is never attached to a 40 hour work week. Since he was working so much in San Francisco, he often stayed in the office apartment above the store. It was an hour drive each way, and when you aren't leaving until 9 and have to be back by 7, there's not a lot of sense in coming home to sleep for a few hours. There were days when Isaac didn't see his dad, until we figured out how to Skype. Ben would go on business trips, meetings, trainings out of state, and we couldn't even do that much. We had to reschedule our Disneyland trip 3 times. 3 TIMES!
I didn't worry about money, but I did worry about my marriage. It was just me and Isaac ALL THE TIME. Even when Ben was home, we were hard pressed to find a babysitter so we could go to dinner or to a movie.
When we knew we were moving across the country, we started saving and paying off more. I started planning how we were going to survive on one third of what we were making. It's been rough. I didn't plan as well as I thought I did. Ben messed up his back and has been to all kinds of doctors for tests. One of the cars has needed repairs. SNOW TIRES, ugh.
Anyway, now I worry about money all the time. Like, I wake up at night for Isaac and I can't fall back asleep because my mind won't turn off. But you know what I don't worry about? MY MARRIAGE. I see my husband everyday. EVERY SINGLE DAY. When we have a problem, we can talk about it, face to face. We resolve things. Isaac sees his dad in real life, not over a computer screen. Most days, we eat dinner together. When Ben is home, he is HOME, not on the phone constantly or worrying about numbers or customer issues or whatnot. He's worried about, well, nothing. (Except maybe the fact that his wife is seriously inept at keeping up with laundry). We get to be a family. A broke family, but we are a family that sees each other.
This is a trade off I am willing to deal with. Somehow, dealing with money troubles seems immensely easier than dealing with marriage troubles. I'll take it.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Fort Knox for Hippos
Isaac has been having nightmares lately. He wakes up crying and calling for me. Most times he doesn't talk about them. I have no idea what's scaring him until it comes up in everyday life. Like an owl. Apparently there is a scary owl in his room.
The other night he woke up more upset than usual. He came to his door dragging his blue bunny buddy behind him crying as hard as he could. I scooped up my snot dripping baby and started to carry him back to his bed so we could cuddle and calm down. He started thrashing and screaming that he couldn't sleep in his bed because of the hippos.
HIPPOS. He loves hippos.
He wouldn't stay in his room, he wouldn't go into our room. So we sat in the landing and rocked back and forth. Apparently there were scary hippos trying to get him (NOTE: no more animal planet for Isaac before bedtime). I rocked and rocked and rocked him back and forth in the landing, quieting his sobs and drying his tears. He was on the brink of sleep when I put him back in his bed and turned on his movie to lull him the rest of the way.
Luck have it, his eyes fluttering right at the part with the DANCING HIPPOS. Let the screams commence.
Oh but wait! We were in luck! The tent Ben bought Isaac for Christmas is impenetrable to hippos! We were safe!
Oh yes, that meant that Isaac wanted to sleep in his tent. You know, so the hippos couldn't get us.
This also meant that I had to pile 20 million blankets and pillows INTO A CHILD SIZE TENT, along with a box of trains, Buzz Lightyear and Woody (who were to guard the entrance) and zip up the tent. ZIP UP THE TENT.
Let's talk about claustrophobia!
Isaac curled up next to me and fell asleep to me talking about all the reasons that the hippos couldn't get us. I became increasingly uncomfortable on the hard floor (despite the 20 bajillion blankets) and the rising temperature BECAUSE IT'S A ZIPPED UP CHILD SIZE TENT.
After he was well asleep I unzipped the door and nodded off eventually. Only to discover that my husband had turned off the alarm and I was late for LIFE (it was ok, my hair looks decent when I let it air dry).
Today we are off to the zoo to cure the hippo fear.
Fingers crossed. I can't spend another night in the tent.
The other night he woke up more upset than usual. He came to his door dragging his blue bunny buddy behind him crying as hard as he could. I scooped up my snot dripping baby and started to carry him back to his bed so we could cuddle and calm down. He started thrashing and screaming that he couldn't sleep in his bed because of the hippos.
HIPPOS. He loves hippos.
He wouldn't stay in his room, he wouldn't go into our room. So we sat in the landing and rocked back and forth. Apparently there were scary hippos trying to get him (NOTE: no more animal planet for Isaac before bedtime). I rocked and rocked and rocked him back and forth in the landing, quieting his sobs and drying his tears. He was on the brink of sleep when I put him back in his bed and turned on his movie to lull him the rest of the way.
Luck have it, his eyes fluttering right at the part with the DANCING HIPPOS. Let the screams commence.
Oh but wait! We were in luck! The tent Ben bought Isaac for Christmas is impenetrable to hippos! We were safe!
Oh yes, that meant that Isaac wanted to sleep in his tent. You know, so the hippos couldn't get us.
This also meant that I had to pile 20 million blankets and pillows INTO A CHILD SIZE TENT, along with a box of trains, Buzz Lightyear and Woody (who were to guard the entrance) and zip up the tent. ZIP UP THE TENT.
Let's talk about claustrophobia!
Isaac curled up next to me and fell asleep to me talking about all the reasons that the hippos couldn't get us. I became increasingly uncomfortable on the hard floor (despite the 20 bajillion blankets) and the rising temperature BECAUSE IT'S A ZIPPED UP CHILD SIZE TENT.
After he was well asleep I unzipped the door and nodded off eventually. Only to discover that my husband had turned off the alarm and I was late for LIFE (it was ok, my hair looks decent when I let it air dry).
Today we are off to the zoo to cure the hippo fear.
Fingers crossed. I can't spend another night in the tent.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Rachel in the Red Shirt
Every night during bathtime, Isaac and I have a little rundown convo about his day. We talk about school, what he learned, what he did, all the fun stuff. Sometimes he will sing songs to me or demonstrate new counting or spelling skills. He often talks about his friends, Conner Man, Nate Dog, Ronnie, and Diva (yes, I know. These names deserve an entire post of their own). Last night was a bit different.
Isaac told me Rachel was playing with his trains. I commented how nice it was that he was sharing toys at school. He replied that Rachel was playing with his trains upstairs. Rachel in the red shirt.
I had no reply. He told me all about Rachel who LIVES IN HIS PLAYROOM and plays trains with him.
After he was done with the bath, I asked him to show me where Rachel was. He started up the stairs and then pointed to the top. "Rachel is right there!"
I told him there was no one there, and then he responded that it was because she was in his room now. We continued into his room, where he immediately ran to the playroom door and asked me to turn on the light so he could see Rachel. He looked around the room and then walked in.
"Rachel is in my tent!"
I again explained to him there was no one there.
"Where did she go, Mama?"
He proceeded to look for Rachel until I distracted him with fruit snacks and Curious George.
And promptly text my husband that we needed to move.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Baby Store
The following are actual conversations that took place in the Lahman household. As the mother of an impetuous, free-willed three year-old, you know I can't make this kind of stuff up.
Me: Ok, Isaac, Mama is going to brush her teeth and put on her shoes so we can go to the Dr.
Isaac: Right, go to dr. Then we have to go to the store to get the babies.
Me: The babies? We have to do what?
Isaac: The babies. At the baby store.
Me: ....the.....BABY store?
Isaac: Yep. We have to get our babies from the baby store.
Me. BabIES? Like, more than one? How many babies?
Isaac: Two. We have to get two babies from the baby store.
Me: We have TWO babies at the baby store?!
Isaac: (looking at me like I am crazy). Yes, Mama.
Me: Ok, well....let's have this conversation with your dad when he gets home....
So silly me, I am thinking that Isaac is going to completely forget this bizarre exchange. However, when Ben got home....
Isaac: Daddy! We have to get our babies from the baby store!
Ben: (Looks up at me) WHAT?
Isaac: Yep, two ones. Two babies. At the baby store.
Ben: what?!
Me: Yeah that is what I said.
Although I am sure Isaac was just being imaginative or talking about some toy or the babies at his school, a teeny part of me believes Isaac somehow knows that we will have 2 more children. How he would know this, I do not begin to fathom.
Kids say the darnedest things, don't they?
Me: Ok, Isaac, Mama is going to brush her teeth and put on her shoes so we can go to the Dr.
Isaac: Right, go to dr. Then we have to go to the store to get the babies.
Me: The babies? We have to do what?
Isaac: The babies. At the baby store.
Me: ....the.....BABY store?
Isaac: Yep. We have to get our babies from the baby store.
Me. BabIES? Like, more than one? How many babies?
Isaac: Two. We have to get two babies from the baby store.
Me: We have TWO babies at the baby store?!
Isaac: (looking at me like I am crazy). Yes, Mama.
Me: Ok, well....let's have this conversation with your dad when he gets home....
So silly me, I am thinking that Isaac is going to completely forget this bizarre exchange. However, when Ben got home....
Isaac: Daddy! We have to get our babies from the baby store!
Ben: (Looks up at me) WHAT?
Isaac: Yep, two ones. Two babies. At the baby store.
Ben: what?!
Me: Yeah that is what I said.
Although I am sure Isaac was just being imaginative or talking about some toy or the babies at his school, a teeny part of me believes Isaac somehow knows that we will have 2 more children. How he would know this, I do not begin to fathom.
Kids say the darnedest things, don't they?
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