Thursday, November 3, 2011

A love note for dreads......and Happy Housewife Day! :) (who'd-a-thunk-it?!)

After a prolonged hiatus from this writing gig I am back with a vengeance. Many changes in our family this year but it seems we are finally back in our groove. Though never a moment of monotonous dreariness here! Five kids, 3 cats, 3 dogs and a husband makes sure of that! Biggest news this week? Our landlord fixed our bathroom door, which has been screwy since we moved in and refused to close properly. No more propping the magazine rack against the door and holloring "Give Mommy a MINUTE please!!!!!!!" while trying to use the toilet with chubby toddler fingers sneaking in around the crack. The first time I could CLOSE and LOCK (hear the angels singing HALLELUJAH????) the bathroom door to pee in peace was a wonderful moment and I thus dubbed it a Mommy Vacation. We Stay At Home Mums grab our moments when we can get them!
I began my dreadlock process in June. Directly after my wedding and a miscarriage. I began dreads simply because I LIKE dreads. I like how they look and they seem to vibe with my whole attire. (Long flowy skirts, a wide array of wife beater tanks) (ugh. I hate that term) What I DID NOT realize is having dreadlocks is an emulation of an entire LIFESTYLE, not a mere hairstyle!
Two things yu must know about me to understand this. 1)I, like so many of us, (all of us?) am healing. I have battle scars, wounds, heavy loads I sometimes carry. I have a past. I have labels I am working on shedding. My dread locks speak volumes in this effect. They are a very outer visual  bold proclamation t the world that I am FREE, forgiven, strong, independent. It is my personal sandwich board sign to the wrld that I refuse to accept the norm or conform to the world around me. I dont give a rip what the latest beauty product is or wether the industry touts that shiny smooth hair is BEAUTIFUL. I think dreadlocks are beautiful, not only because to me, its as natural as one gets, but because 9 times out of 10, the person who has dreadlocks has a story behind them. On a FaceBook page I am a member of (dreadlocksnattydreads) someone once asked what our personal stories were for getting dreadlocks. The responses were varied. Sme had them due to spiritual convictions, some felt more akin to nature and life with dreads, some had them as a therapuetic wa to deal with death of a loved one, a divorce, loss of a pregnancy, abuse of some form in their past. The reaccuring theme was that these dreads symbolized love, hope, healing, peace, etc.... Mine began as part of my journey through grief over my deceased fiance. His death brought manyy conflicting emotions to the surface, including a wrestling with my faith and my God. Which leads me to number 2) I tend t be a very type-A personality. Throw OCD into the mix there. I am a professional worrier. I plan things. I make lists. I research everything. And that type of living can lead to alot of stress. Its ok to be prepared but sometimes when we interrupt the natural flow, our own grwth is hindered. I worried alot about Ken dying due to his alcoholism. He did die. My worrying, nagging, praying, pleading, crying ....did NOT stop it. Suddenly, at age 31, I had to face facts that I am NOT God, that our best intentions can still fail, that people I love will die, that thinsg dont always work out as planned. Relinquishing control is a scary thing. As the Beatles put it "Let it be." A tough concept to grasp. Before Kens death, I tried desperatly to save him. In the end, it wasn't my place.
There again, in my beginning process of these dreads I tried to grasp control. I saw photos of folks with gorgeous "perfect" straight symmetrical dreads. I expected that. Then mine began to dread. And there were spots where loose hairs refused to dread and parts where my hair was a frizzy puffball and three defiant rebellious dreads in the back found partners and those three dreads turned into "congos" (as i learned they were called, when two or more seperate dreads lock together to form one fat dread) I had a few dreads with funky loops and bumps in them, one even had this kinky cool swirl at the end which albeit was pretty funky BUT not at all the even perfect rows I had expected. But in the talking to many fellow dreadhead I have learned everyne ges through this process in the beginning and that dread locks tend to be varying and unique.
Ah.
Lightbulb moment.
Coming in loud and clear, God.
dreadlocks are, as I mentioned, an outer representation of our jourenys. We all are different, quirky, unique. These dreads are mine and thus are a portrayal of ME. Sometimes I am simply strnger when I "congo" with another person, when I depend on a friend or lean on a family member. Jesus said "Where two or more are gathered, there I am." Sometimes, right smack dab in the midst of the doldrums, I burst into a silly song to ne of my kids or dance alone in my livingroom. Last week, whilst hiking in the woods with my headphones blasting, a catchy tune in my ears, I sddenlyy felt inspired to dance. And dance I did. Under a towering tree with the sun streaming down to kiss me through the branches. I waved my arms and spun and bopped and shook my hips and vibed out waves of love to the earth. Thats me. When work must get done, Im there to get it done. But living comes as priority and sometimes interrupts the work. When Christ cmes back I want to be teh one dancing beneath trees, not scrubbing dishes.Sometimes I  might get muddled  up and have to begin again. But with my head held high. I am those rebellious, fun, quirky, bumpy, swirly dreads. They are me. and I love them!
On a side note, November 11th is officially Housewife Day. La dee da! I celebrate by...doing housework. Pretty much the same as any other day. But if anyone wants to send gifts of chocolate or cash.........;) Back to the grindstone. Ta!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Zen Princess:Ruler Over Controlled Chaos: Primal Pregnancy

Zen Princess:Ruler Over Controlled Chaos: Primal Pregnancy: "More often than not,the first questioned posed to me by well-intentioned friends and family when they learn of my pregnancy is 'Who's your d..."

Primal Pregnancy

More often than not,the first questioned posed to me by well-intentioned friends and family when they learn of my pregnancy is "Who's your doctor?" Which I suppose to some people is a very logical question. But for me, it leaves me scratching my head in bewilderment. For I neither have a pre-existing condtion nor do I have any health isues that are a risk to myself or my unborn child that have been exacerbated by pregnancy. I am very simply just a healthy woman who is pregnant. And I am prone to ask my own question: Since when is pregnancy an illness???
Now, dont get me wrong. If you have certain risk factors then by all means, work with your doctor to ensure the well being of both yourself and your unborn child. I am highly appreciative of our modern advances in medicine when it is needed and would in no way ever encourage a woman to put her own life or that of her child's at risk. But I do not fall into that category. I have no major health issues. I am healthy. I eat a well balanced diet of mainly organic origin. I get plenty of physical activity every day. (With 5 young children to raise this is inevitable.) I stay aware of my own body. This means I notice when I am feeling tension or fear or stress, etc....I know my triggrs and I know what to do to ease said emotions. I spend quiet time everyday with myself. I communicate throughout the day with my unborn child, through thoughts, speaking aloud, and meditation. In my past pregnancies, if it was the last trimester and I was concerned about not feeling any movement from my baby inutero I would simply sit still for a moment and ask my baby to please move and every single time within a couple seconds, he would move quite deliberatly.
That vital bond and connection has always awed me. Though it cannot really come as  surprise. After all, our children grow in the same body that houses our own spirit and soul. Our babies are a piece of ourselves./ When we do not realize that, when we instead look to a doctor for each step, it removes that bond. think of it this way, when you fall in love, do you turn to a trained counselor for advice in every new development in the relationship? Do you ask saidprofessional what to do about dates, holdinghands, first kiss, etc...... Or do you follow your heart? The same works for your emotional and physical relationship with your unborn child. You and your lover were alone when you concieved. You didnt need a profssional to tell you how to create life, did you? You must learn to trust yourself enough to know how to nurture and grow that life.
This will be my 4th primal pregnancy. So, when you opt out of regular doctor viits....what does a self-care regimen look like for a primal pregnancy? Well, its actually quite obvious and simplistic. I eat when I am feeling hungry. Even if it mean small snacks eery few hours instead of three larger meals. I eat foods that are as natural in form as they get. I eat salads and boiled eggs and raw nuts and hummus on pita bread and fresh raspberries and homemade tortilla chip with homemade salsa.....I eat whatever my body needs to keep me energized and balanced. I excersise daily. I play football withmy sons. I go for 3 mile hikes in the woods with my sons. I chase the dogs around the yard.I use the weed eater and attack the unruly weeds along the fence in my yard. I build a bookshelf for my office. I mop. I plant in my garden. I don't sit on my butt. After all, impending labor is called LABOR and requires a healthy strong body! On the other hand, I sleep when I get tired. This may mean an 8:30 bedtime sometimes, or an early afternoon siesta. I dont push my limit. If my body or mind tells me it needs  break I TAKE IT. I sit and relax. I read a book. I soak in a bath. I pray. I watch a movie.
What else? Well, I take a daily multivitamin with extra folic acid and iron. I take a b-complex vitmin andcalcium supplements. I write daily lover letters to my unborn child. I prepare my mind for a primal BIRTH, by delving into such websites as Laura Shanleys Freebirth.com and the community forums at Mothering.com. I read Ina May Gaskin ad Fredrick Leboyer. I keep  copy of Immaculate Deception on my bedside table. I cut down my caffienne intake. I nurture my own soul by writing poetry, singing, praying, etc.....because if I dont know and trust my own abilities and strengths than HOW can  I possibly trust myself to birthe a child?
It is a day by day love journey. I love being pregnant more than anything. I find my intuition is hieghtened dramatically during pregnancy. I feel very mother-earth-ish, womanly, vibrant, exhalted, curvy and magical. I praise God for my bodies ability to do as He intended it. As a woman who has miscarried multiple times, I am all the more appreciative of it when my body carries a baby to term. I know many women who find the pregnancy process quite miserable but I have been lucky, never had any morning sickness, etc... An interesting factoid: in more primative cultures, such symptoms as "morning sickness" do not even exist! Is it our diet in America that causes this phenomenon? Or perhaps the ingrained belief we carry that pregnancy must come burdened with negative symptoms? Just as we are taught that birth itself mut be painful....yet I have seen numerous women give birth in calm serenity or in laughter. I myself laughed out loud upon the crowning of one of my sons, at the marvel and awesomness of that moment. And when I was in labor with my last son the nurse did not believe I even WAS inlabor until he hooked me up to the machine andsaw I was having uterine contractions every two minutes. I was just sitting there chatting and laughing. She looked at me as if I had gone mad. :)
But I will blog another day on the subject of birth. For today I focus only on my body, my mind and my unborn baby. Step by step, day by day.....this life is mine and it is my child's and we are one. No medical book or degree or profession can know as much as pure intuition and love.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

My Mom

The tentative, perilous, fiercly devoted bond betwixt a mother an daughter.....one you can only grasp if you play a part in that type of relationship. The cords that tie, the fabrics thatweave together this tapestry.....
As a very young girl,I adored my mom. She was a young single mom and  I found her beautiful.The very earth revolved around only the two of us. That was all there was. Shewas my queen.
But then those temptous teen years swept over us like a sea of whirlng waters an crashing waves. Suddenly it struck me how much a clueless fool this woman really was.What could she possibly understand about broken hearts, embarassing acne, tainted frienships??? I blamed her for 75 percent of the bad stuff and refused to discuss the other 25 percent with her on mere pinciple that she "just wouldn't GET IT."
Then it happened. IT. The thing that made me see how MUCH she truly GOT.I became a mother. And that very first time I held my son's tiny body, a mass of wires attaching him to itimidating machines in an intmidating NICU.....and that rush of hushed whispers of whatever it is we hear the first time we hold our child (angels?god?love?) "lifelifeliflifeloveloveloveloveoh.my.god." and from that very moment on I have come to see my mom as not only life giver....but a  friend, a sister on this journey, a fellow mother.....
When I lost a baby at 4 months gestation, my mother gathered together all of the condolence cards and emails and leters.....many from other women who had lost a baby, and she compiled the into a book for me.I read it in the silent nights when itseemed God had ceased to listen or respond. It was my comfort.When I went into labor with my second son, my mom had JUST micarried 7 days earlier. With her heart-wound still throbbingly fresh,she came to support me through hours and hours of labor.As a woman who has also lost babies,I understnd the strength that took.How hard, thepull between grieving for a child you lost and supporting one still here. When I went through my divorce, when my husband and father of our 3 boys left me for an18 year old stripper who was carrying his child at the same time I was pregnant with our fourth, it was my mother who encouraged me and believed in me. When I miscarried a child the year earlier her kind and simple card said perfectly what was needed to be said.
Those late night calls when the baby had colic. The frustrated letters about Aidans attitude. The concerned emails regrding Zanes struggles with reading. My venting,crying,fears, worries as a single mom.That woman who used to seem clueless now was my beacon since she had already journeyed this path.
And when I had the D&C operation after losing my 2nd baby......I lay in that huge,cold,gray operating room filled with masked faces,feeling so very small and scared and alone.....and all I could think was I wanted my mom. And when I lost too much blood and passed out outside of the hospital she charged inside and yelled for a dr before the useless candy striper could even blink.
And when the cops showed up at my door to say "We have some bad news".....(because it turns out they really DO say that,just like in the movies) and they told me my fiance, my very best friend in the whole wide world, Daddy to my boys, had died......I couldnt think right to dial her number, but I needed my mom.Ifinaly dialed it right. And she drove a fifteen minute drive in five. And she was running with arms wide open to comfort me like I was 5 again before I think the car had even stopped rolling. And when I had to say goodbye to him, (my first dead body ever and it was my best friend.That quite the kick in the gut), I did what I had to,then went outside....I was halfway across the country, sorrounded by strangers....and I lit a cigarette with a shaky hand and called my mom. And told her Iwished she was there with me.
At 31, I realize now how much Itruly NEED my mom.I used to say I couldnt wait to be 18 and AWAY......but I am never AWAY. She is a part of me. A beautifully intricate tapstry of ebb and flow.
THANK YOU MOM> I LOVE YOU~

Friday, May 6, 2011

What I Believe In

Being a no-hitting, respecting-your-children, gentle-parenting, natural-consequences-allowing, mother is not always an easy path to journey on. Especially when one lives in a small rural mountain hillbilly southern town. In this community the majority of parents believe that what didnt kill them as children will work just fine for their own children. So, I too often am witness to children being verbally threatened to be phyically punished. And not just hit, but beat with a paddle, a stick or a leather belt. Which always confuses me because WHY must ou insist on using a weapon to hit somone who is alread vulnerable and smaller and weaker than you??? If I went up to a neighbor or co worker or adult family member and hit them with a belt or wodden paddle (on a part of their body we teach children is their "privates" by the way..which I find even MORE disturbing that that is where we hit them) I would be in jail for assault and battery. Wh are children not protected under the same laws??? What right have we to  administer pain to them???? Physical punishment creates fear, pain, shame andfrustration in a child. Something they carry into their adult hood. I personally was the victim of an abusive man who was abused as a child. Statitics show that violent offenders in prison are far more likely to have been victims of corporal punishment as children. (Ie: spankings)
Many peopleuse he bible as reason to hit their children. the good ol "Spare the rod, spoil the child" verse. But the Hebrew word for rod can also mean writing utensil (an instrument of education) or Shebet which was the stick with a hook the sheperds used to keep straying sheep in the flock. (gentle guidance and authority) Thewo discipline is derived from the word disciple. Our job as parents is to TEACH. Every disciplinary ction is an opportunity to educate our children. Sure, we can hit a child if they throw a toy or repeat a bad word they hear on tv. But frankly, though you may claim it works because it stops the behavior, all it does is give you an immediate response with no lasting impression. All you teach a children then is to not do the offending behavior in front of you. If you take the time to explain WHY (in a clear, authoritive way) the behavior is not acceptable, then the child can understand the reason why. Kids are far more capable of grasping such concepts than we give them credit for!
I am in no way saying let children have their way and be pussy footed in front of them. You are still head over them and they need to respect you. But to spank a child is simply an immature reaction, an impatient action, an adult temper tantrum so to speak. Allow natural consequences when posible. If they are irsponsible with a new toy andlose it at school after you tell them not to bring it to school, DONT buy them a new one. If they refuse to eat dinner, they dont get a snack later. If the refuse shoes on their feet, let them feel the hot pavment for a second and I promise you those shoes will go on without you having to yell or raise your blood pressure. If they dont cleantheir room, they dont get to go out an play with their sisters. etc....
Also, communication is key. Explain our reason for rules and boundaries so your kids can respect them. As an adult, would you honestly be ok with following instructions that made NO SENSE from your boss at work? If you go to work tomorrw and your boss says " I want you to do______, and if you dont I will hit you with this leather belt" how would YOU react????  We need to show our kids the same respect that we expect others to give to us.
So many people arguethe point with me "Spanking works." Ok then, so if itworks sooooo well, I am assuming you only ever had to hit your child ONCE, right? If its such a fool proof trick, WHY do you have to repeatedly hit your child????? I also have had people tell me "My parents hit me when I was a kid and I turned out fine." Okay, firstly, there are always exceptions to every rule. The human spirit can make us capable of defying any odds.And FINE is not good enough for me. I wat my kids to grow up to be fine, respectful gntleman, not simply survivors. Fine is survival. Its not good enough IMO. But if youwere hit often as a child, it is more than likely you have been in physical confrontations as an adult and/or you have difficulties handling anger, or communication or conflict resolution.It also means you are fafr more likely to continue this cycle of abuse with your own children. Because no one ever taught you other options. Spanking teaches nothing other than fear, intimidation and the lesson that its totally acceptable for the big guy to hit the little guy just to get his point cross.
Our children need to be shown love, information, education, respect.....if we as adults expect it,shouldnt we raise our children to expect the same???

Friday, April 22, 2011

Onward and Upward

Its a strange thing, finding your footing after losing somene you love. When Ken died I had two choices: die with him or go on with living. Because of my boys I really only had one option in my heart. But how does one bgin to carve out a brand new path? And how to do so without feeling guilty? For a good month after he passed away I did not smile or laugh without abruptly catching myself and scolding myself. I felt guilty. Ken had been a good man, my best friend, my soul mate, how could I be happy? We had promised to love eachother forever but neither of us had planned for THIS. Here I was lost out in the wilderness where he had left me all alone when he died trying to carve this new path. I missed him horribly. I would get angry at moments and then feel guilty for feeling angry.
In the midst of this emotional turmoil I stumbled across Dave, one of mine and Kens close friends.He  had always been there for me. And when I needed to get through things in those early days it was him who I called. On that awful 18 hour bus ride back from Kens funeral, at the moments I thought for sure I would fall apart, caught up in pain and thoughts I could not stop, I called him and he listened and talked me through and kept me from dissolving. When I was scared at nights ad not wanting to sleep alone, he drove out to my house to sit with me, to hold me, to listeto me ramble. I did alot of talking. Its what I do, I talk out big issues, pouring it out of my soul to make room for healing and peace. Dave allowed for that. He understood my grieving, having known and loved ken as well. We went to the memorial cross together. He was a part of my healing. A patient steadfast hedge of protection.
I have thought many hours. prayed. spoken to Ken in my heart. Idont feel guilty any longer. I know that Ken would not want me to give up. Hewould not want me to settle either. He rose the bar and there are things I expect of dave simply because Ken showed me I deserved them. But I aso know  will never be happy quite like that again. Iwill never throwmyself headlong into romance and passion and all of that ever again. I do find myself falling in love with Dave. Very much so. But it is a far more cautious measured love. I am aware now of the risk of loss and pain and death and scarring. I am no longer that girl that Ken loved. He took a part of her with him ad the rest has been drasically altered to fill in the void. Its not all bad, I dont mean to make it sound so. Ken taught me what LOVE is. TRUE love. I now can love a man properly and skip over the childish issues and doubts because of what I learned. Because of Ken I know what I deserve and I will stand up and demand it and not settle for less. Because of my loss I am stronger. I never knew myself to be this strong. I always thought, if he died I would die. And yet....I walked alone into that large silent room where his cold still body lay and I spoke to him, and I touched his hand, and I smelled his hair, and I kissed his lips goodbye....and I did not die. In fact, I stayed on my feet. (But by the grace of God) I have learned to never go a day without telling my kids I love them. To not waste time on petty stuff. To LIVE. I do this to honor Ken. So those two years he spent with me were not in vain.
I know to some people it may appear I amrushing into things and leaving Kens memory behind. Iwant to make it clear that not a day goes by, or will go by for the rest of my life, that he is not in  my heart. He made me who I am today. I see him in our sons, especially the youngest. A million little things remind me of him. Somtimes those things make me laugh and other times I cry. It is such an odd thing, feeling gateful and happy with where your life is while at the same time griving for what is past. But here I find myself, putting these pieces together so I can see the picture God has painted on my puzzle.
R.I.P. Ken. Forever in my heart.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Spring Cleaning Vs. Five Monkeys

Its getting there. Slowly but surely....Spring has officially sprung and the cleaning fever has hit. Let me just tell you, if you have a choice between cleaning your entire home top to bottom alone or with the so-called "help" from five monkeys (aka little boys), go it alone. Unless you get some sick pleasure out of re-doing the same tasks over and over and over and over......well, you get my drift. i don't know about you but I really only prefer to scrub my bathrooms ONCE a day, thank you. Cleaning it to a satisfying shine just to walk back in ten minutes later to be greeted by toothpaste fingerpaint smears on the toilet seat sort of takes away the former satisfaction. (And leads one to contemplate WHAT exactly was going through my 3 year olds mind to squeeze the entire tube out onto his hands and then rub it into the toilet?????
But i digress. Anyway, my OCD is having little happy parties in my head recently with all of these organization tasks. I cleared out the food pantry and donated three boxes of food. (WHY oh why did we have fourteen cans of canned meat????? Is that stuff even MEAT? Ugh.) I organized the DVDs by category, flipped all the mattreses, cleaned out the fridge. (Including the top, which has not been tackled since I moved here 14 months ago.) Tip on your fridge top. After cleaning it, line it with saran wrap. that way the nasty gunk and dust settles on that and you can just peel it up and lay new wrap down. I wish I had done that in the first place. Yuck is all I can say. My first order of business today was to organize my books by color. Inspired by a photo I came across online. seeing something so orderly and pretty gives me the motivation to then attack less enjoyable tasks such as the dreaded junk drawer.....which I must confess had somehow turned into TWO junk drawers over the course of the last few months.QUITE the accumulation of nothingness.
To rid one self of so much STUFF really is freeing. I find with less clutter around me, thre is less clutter in my brain. I am not as overwhelmed. I plan on rewriting teh book I wrote a few years back that got lost and the potential of a beginning is rising with the clearing out of my office. (Which somewhere along the way became the throw-everything-in-here-that-you-don't-want-the-baby-to-get-into Space) I miss sitting at my desk and pouring my soul out onto blank pages. Though now with the lovely addition of my laptop shall be a blank screen. :)
This is a sideways shot of my bookshelf. I probably get overly excited over organization. LOL
 And here is my livingroom. Its an ivy theme, in honor of the beautiful ivy plant my mom gave to me at the memorial of my deceased fiance, Ken Kubit. My friend Traci gave me a load of ivy themed things and I found ivy wallpaper border on sale! the paint was free and was a terrifying hot pink color whilst in the can. I was trepidatious to use it but once on the walls it dried to a deep lovely hue I actually really like.
Now if only my house would REMAIN this tidy. Ha!

Thursday, April 7, 2011

A step back, A bonfire, and a roll in cow manure.....

Phew. Today was a long day. Woke up late so we had to pile all 5 boys into the van and drive the older two off to school. Which was a stress-fest in and of itself and reminded me WHY I am thankful to be a work-at-home mum! Shoe hunts and jacket wars and who-gets-to-sit-by-a-window battles had me completly obolishing my no-yelling vow before we ever even got out of the driveway. My eldest, Zane, is quite a particular and sensitive soul. Which means pure and total meltdowns if he doesnt get the seat he expects or if someone TOUCHES his cushion on the couch or if his blanket isn't JUST SO on the bed.....MY new tactic for dealing with this issue is to take him out of his comfort zone as often as possible. Little things like making him sit in a different seat than his everyday one at the dinner table. Because the fact is, in the REAL WORLD you can't always get what you want. (but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.)
Anyway, so I was already at the yelling (through gritted teeth, at that...very shining and mature moment for me) by 8 a.m. But the fact is, I had not had my obligatory two cups of joe this morning so the dragon was not at bay. (Translation: I am NOT a morning person.)
But onward and upward. I apologized for holloring and losing my cool. I brought Bailey in with us to catch a glimpse of the school as he is INSANELY excited to be in kindergarten next year. Its an adorable little school. So little in fact, that the kindergarten and first grade classrooms are housed in little trailers seperate from the school. Which I know SOUNDS white trash but is actually quite charming.  I got to meet Aidan's teacher who I just wanted to hug. I am not sure if this woman is magic or what, but between her and her assistant....they have achieved a miracle. Aidan used to wake up every morning adament he was NOT attending school, that he hated it. He would scream, cry, kick, refuse to get dressed......Do you know how much FUN it is to begin your day wrestling clothes and shoes and a coat on a screaming red-faced child who then promptly lies on the wet pavement when the bus pulls up so you can't send him to school anyway as he is now soaked?!? Well, trust me, its not as fun as it sounds. Anyway, this kid has done an about-face. he LOVES school. He loves learning. He picks up chapter books now and reads them at his own free will. His teachers have sent him home with hand me downs from their son, offered to buy him shoes when his sole fell off of his and looked like it had a flapping mouth that talked when he walked. And I recieved the kindest note  when Aidans daddy passed away. Anyway, so the school is fantastic. I long to be homeschooling again. I miss those days so very much. And its not looking like we will be back on that bandwagon this September which is just the pits. But with this tiny little country school as an alternative I have my peace.

So, dinner tonight. I spent the afternoon clearning out our firepit and restacking the rocks. Looks awesome. Then the boys and I tromped through the woods to gather firewood along with the three little girls next door. (whose mother never watches them so they are ALWAYS at my house and are practically my children at this rate...but I digress) We got a gorgeous blazing fire going and roasted up hotdogs (and dropped a few in the dirt. Those went to the dog.) Then it was on to marshmallows. My two ADHD kids (Zane and Bailey) shove theirs straight in the flame and light them on fire then blow them out and eat the blackened ball of sugar. Aidan dutifully crouched and held his over the fire just-so as he said he wanted it to be "golden."  (He wants to be a chef someday, so everything he cooks is a masterpiece.) I learned that Drezdyn prefers his marshmallows uncooked. Creed got more marshmallow on his face than in his mouth. Me? I was being my typical barefooted hippie self and managed to step on a burning ember (ouch!) and a dropped marshmallow. (yuck!)
Then here comes the dog at the  ending of our cookout....covered in green and brown disgustingness. UGH. Across the road is a cow pasture,. Which apparently Goliath the Great (our tiny little chihuahua) thought would be fun to run through, explore, and roll in lovely warm piles of cow poo......So, back inside for a nice doggy bath. I really really need a daughter. Even my pets are male and gross. Well, except for Prissy Missy the cat. But she is too much of a priss to hang with me.

 This is Goliath. Minus the cow poo. Dressed in his oh-so-tough-guy sweater.
And Prissy Missy. Being Prissy. Two of my furbabies. i will intro the other two at a later date.
Anyway, that was my day today. Minus all the boring monotonous housecleaning and such.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

My new "No-Yelling, No-Hitting" Home......Day One.

So......I used to be a lot better at staying in a moment of zen like peace whilst the kiddos were melting down. I have learned it is far easier to keep my children calm if I remain calm. But in teh last couple of months some things have happened that have thrown my focus elsewhere. So, the level of noise, complaining, arguing and yelling has drastically increased as I have gotten lazy and begun to react to negative behavior with yelling and even a couple of swats on the butt recently. I'm talking very childish. Slamming doors, stomping my foot, holloring in teh middle of my livingroom. Totally useless. Kids dont hear that. All its been doing is causing them to get frustrated in turn. I have created quite a muddled mess. So, we sat down and had a good talk and here we go. No yelling, no mean words, no cussing, no hitting. This applies to adults and kids alike. Its harder than I expected. Yelling is faster and lazier. Having to think of creative solutions to resolutions takes actual thought and effort. Pulling the two year old off of the kitchen tabel where he is dancing after whipping his diaper off sans Chippendales is ok...the first six times. By time two billion forty three I want to scream and throw him out a window. Patience is sure being tested!
My first satisfying success: This morning my 10 year old son got angry with his three year old brother who adamently refused to leave his older brothers room. Thsi is an ongoing battle as the older boys room is stocked with "cool" toys like legos and other things which come apart and are fun to destroy. When Creed, the younger, refused to leave Zane's room Zane shoved him. Hard. Onto the floor. And made Creed cry. In a very loud annoying voice that can pierce a mother's skull in 3.5 seconds flat. My instinct was to hollor at Zane...or maybe even give him a good ol "this is what it feels like" shove.....
Instead, I ordered Zane to hunt up a pen and piece of paper. I told him to sit down at the kitchen table and write out a 5 sentence paragraph describing an alternate solution to the scenario that had just occured. This resulted in Zane dissolving into an emotional outburst that topped Creeds previous indignation at being shoved. zaen whined and cried and stamped and stomped. He announced he woudl write no such paragraph. I told him he would sit there until he did. He finally wrote it. it didnt kill him. After he was done he apologized to his younger brother. I talked to him about impulsivity and dealing with his anger. It got through and i know this because he is my very ADHD impulsive act-first-think-later child and for the rest of the day when things upset him I could actually see the wheels turning in his brain. He kept it cool the rest of the day! SUCCESS!!! And the coolest part was, i didnt need to yell or get stressed or need a cigarette to make it through a moment without strangling anyone. :)
Oh, and Zanes paragraph? He wrote that the next time if Creed would not get out of his bedroom he would come and tell me and I would properly punish Creed by making him clean the bathroom. :)
It has not been easy today, this no yelling approach. habits are to be broken. I have had to remind the kids alot and have had to bite my own tongue a few times. But I know it will be worth it in the long run.