We don't give children the credit they are due. These little people grow up to invent things, design, manipulate, calculate, create, explore space and rule. They don't learn those God given talents and curiousities from school or even parents. So yes, let's just realize now that they are indeed born with lots of smarts.
Have you ever eaten a meal with an adult that would only eat mac and cheese or chicken nuggets? I submit to you that it is very early on that they figure out how to control big people. The big people in this very house carried avocados around in my purse for quite a while. You know, we wouldn't want one of those little people to have to starve or succomb to restaurant food. First born children just really are "training agents" for parents. You second born, should thank your older sibling. It may not seem like they did you any favors, but really they did. Trust me on this one. They worked a great amount of uptightness out of your parents.
You would think by protype 2, we parents would've figured out the ploys. You would think right? No, too many variables in the equation still. It's really that 3rd protype that gets it good. Parents by then have done it all, tried it all and just don't have the energy to use everything they now know. So number 3 gets to do some free-wheeling that first born never even would have EVER dreamed of doing. Number three, say thank you to number 2. Two just made old mom and dad a bit humble. That middle child made the parents realize number one wasn't so perfect because of great parenting skills.
Back to "the con" we go. Our youngest is at first sight, quiet and reserved and appears bashful. Our first born is quiet, reserved and appears bashful. What is the difference? That "a" word: appears. One only "appears" that way.
Not to give the impression one is smarter, who really knows on that? I'm sure they will both run smart circles around me. One, upon first meeting is quiet, reserved and is sizing you up. Discernment? Could that be one of her gifts? Time will tell.
One, is quiet, reserved and assessing the surroundings, noting every detail and deciding if it a safe place? Noting your left eye has a slight twitch every 3.5 seconds. Is wondering will I feel comfortable here? Why are the other people doing X? Details, details, details and committing it all to memory. This one's career path will surely be intriguing. He's complex.
The Con, her favorite person to con happens to be the author of this blog. I know, I've spent more time with her than anyone else and yet? Why is it that the parents are the last to know? Is it the heart-strings are so tight that we can't see out of the kitchen?
Why do we let them "play" us like we do? I know I am not alone on this. If you have a child you've fallen into the trap at some point. I know you have!!
Her latest earned an A for a valiant effort on the plot and execution, although in the end it was a failure. Me on the other hand, well I finally got a "w" in my column! Wohoo!!
Kindergarten started and the first 5 days were pretty amazing. She was falling into the big school routine with her big brother and that got her plan a little off I'd say. She was enjoying being a "big kid" and doing what big brother was doing.
Then week two rolled around and this big kid routine started getting a little monotonous for her. I think the fast from wearing loosey goosey Crocs all day was starting to annoy also. She half-heartedly tried the teenager tactic of playing sick. She'd worn that out in the past. I didn't even pretend to take the bait.
She pulled out her play book and scrolled back to the previous fall. Reviewed it and put plan in place. Weapon of choice based on prior effectiveness: TEARS, "I miss you" and "I just want to be with you today Mommy" were her weapons of choice. Yes, she was armed and had a good track record with this head on attack. She was going nuclear.
I have a decent memory of last fall too though. I remember the money we wasted on 3 weeks of Spanish school. I remember the tears and other weapons she riddled me with. I remember thinking I was surely traumatizing this poor child putting her in a Spanish speaking school. I remember her final confession after I moved her to a new English speaking school. It wasn't how much she was still missing me. It was this "I just didn't like the way the Spanish school smelled"! (Yes, I felt like I'd been slapped with the silly stick).
I prayed for little Tallulah to have just the right teacher for Kindergarten this year. I can say, God has so far answered that prayer. Her vetern teacher spoke just a few words to her and called her bluff on Thursday. Instant smile, no more tears and she once again marches confidently into Kindergarten with a Cheshire cat smile on that sweet, innocent "appearing" beautiful face I love.
She didn't win this time (in her eyes), but I have no doubt she'll try to con me again.
Remind me to tell you how she conned her Daddy this summer.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Nanny and Papa Host Summer Camp
I haven't blogged in a while and just felt it was time to update. Sleep deprived and my youngest is well past the years of waking every 3 hours and yet she shows up at my bedside around 4am pretty much like clock work. This is already sounding like a vent for a tired mom instead of an interesting entry. I think it's important to remember these occasions down the road so I'll have a good reality of what raising children was really like though so hang with me if you dare.
You know how grandparents have those memories of how they raised their children. Was there ever a child born before 1980 that wasn't potty trained by 2, some of those over achievers even by 18 months. We all walked and talked well before that I'm certain.
I don't know, maybe I did sleep through the night or maybe it was just that baby monitors didn't exist and parents put kids on the far side of the house and passed out from the exhaustion of washing 50 cloth diapers a day. Who knows? Nobody back then blogged so I guess we'll never know for sure.
Speaking of grandparents, I've signed my kids up for "Nanny and Papa Camp". Oh yes! 3 weeks, no less. Okay, well only 1 week without me being with them. I'm hoping those professional child experts can cure this 4 am habit. If not this may be the only year of Nanny and Papa Camp. They may up the age limit on campers.
You know what Nanny and Papa Camp could look like. Starts with a stop at Wally World where campers coerce the head counselor to purchase Fruit Loops a.k.a. The Forbidden Fruit. Campers only get this fruit when at NP camp or involved in a church craft. Campers don't miss the opportunity to mention "marshmellows" while in WW also. Youngest camper has been known to beg for hot cocoa on the hottest summer day all in an attempt to score a meager little marshmellow. Believe me, they won't neglect to remember the camp fires and what might get roasted if it means the big fluffy, sugary marshmellows may come into play.
Drive to camp site continues. Looks a bit like Driving Miss Daisy, except Miss Daisy is in boots and jammed between a booster seat and a full blown 5 point harness car seat and has the full-time duty drive attendant, nurse, chef, librarian, musician and most likely navigation consultant to our still happy to be Camp Counselor in the front seat. Although, he's due a nap about an hour ago and is now just salivating waiting to get to the chips and salsa waiting down the road.
Camp continues with many activities. Horses are high on the list. Camper B wants to watch the horses. Camper B wants to go with Head Counselor to feed the horses mulitple times per day. HC would prefer Camper not be in pink pj's for this event. Did I mention Camper B is really cute and HC can't say no, especially when the Lead Counselor gives him "the look". Camper B spends time sitting in recreational vehicle watching distribution of hay, grain and water. Camper B makes many mental notes on the culture and habits of horses, notably on their poop. Camper has always been fascinated by poop and I'm sure a documentary is in her future in 15 years or so.
Camper A has settled into his bunk and organized his personal items. Check. Camper A has his personal items straight and in his new personal space at camp and life is feeling good. Camper A has added some new items (markers, sticks, cap guns) to his stash of personal items and now we're having fun! Camper A spots lizards around camp site. A notes there are also insects. What more could a boy ask for. Nanny and Papa camp surely is what heaven looks like to a boy. A has just discovered hours of camp fun and therefore will not be the least bit ready to return to the burbs in 3 weeks.
Meanwhile, counselors are wondering if parents of campers are having fun? Counselors are wondering if parents of campers are missing campers? Counselors are wondering if parents of campers are getting more sleep than counselors.......
You know how grandparents have those memories of how they raised their children. Was there ever a child born before 1980 that wasn't potty trained by 2, some of those over achievers even by 18 months. We all walked and talked well before that I'm certain.
I don't know, maybe I did sleep through the night or maybe it was just that baby monitors didn't exist and parents put kids on the far side of the house and passed out from the exhaustion of washing 50 cloth diapers a day. Who knows? Nobody back then blogged so I guess we'll never know for sure.
Speaking of grandparents, I've signed my kids up for "Nanny and Papa Camp". Oh yes! 3 weeks, no less. Okay, well only 1 week without me being with them. I'm hoping those professional child experts can cure this 4 am habit. If not this may be the only year of Nanny and Papa Camp. They may up the age limit on campers.
You know what Nanny and Papa Camp could look like. Starts with a stop at Wally World where campers coerce the head counselor to purchase Fruit Loops a.k.a. The Forbidden Fruit. Campers only get this fruit when at NP camp or involved in a church craft. Campers don't miss the opportunity to mention "marshmellows" while in WW also. Youngest camper has been known to beg for hot cocoa on the hottest summer day all in an attempt to score a meager little marshmellow. Believe me, they won't neglect to remember the camp fires and what might get roasted if it means the big fluffy, sugary marshmellows may come into play.
Drive to camp site continues. Looks a bit like Driving Miss Daisy, except Miss Daisy is in boots and jammed between a booster seat and a full blown 5 point harness car seat and has the full-time duty drive attendant, nurse, chef, librarian, musician and most likely navigation consultant to our still happy to be Camp Counselor in the front seat. Although, he's due a nap about an hour ago and is now just salivating waiting to get to the chips and salsa waiting down the road.
Camp continues with many activities. Horses are high on the list. Camper B wants to watch the horses. Camper B wants to go with Head Counselor to feed the horses mulitple times per day. HC would prefer Camper not be in pink pj's for this event. Did I mention Camper B is really cute and HC can't say no, especially when the Lead Counselor gives him "the look". Camper B spends time sitting in recreational vehicle watching distribution of hay, grain and water. Camper B makes many mental notes on the culture and habits of horses, notably on their poop. Camper has always been fascinated by poop and I'm sure a documentary is in her future in 15 years or so.
Camper A has settled into his bunk and organized his personal items. Check. Camper A has his personal items straight and in his new personal space at camp and life is feeling good. Camper A has added some new items (markers, sticks, cap guns) to his stash of personal items and now we're having fun! Camper A spots lizards around camp site. A notes there are also insects. What more could a boy ask for. Nanny and Papa camp surely is what heaven looks like to a boy. A has just discovered hours of camp fun and therefore will not be the least bit ready to return to the burbs in 3 weeks.
Meanwhile, counselors are wondering if parents of campers are having fun? Counselors are wondering if parents of campers are missing campers? Counselors are wondering if parents of campers are getting more sleep than counselors.......
Well hello again!
First of all, let's just say I'm going to be better at this blogging stuff. My baby started school and the house is bound to finally clean itself which should give me time to blog. It is the theory I'm going with for today. The glass is half full.
So how to catch you up on the past two years? I'll start with me. Gravity took hold. Why is gravity not a friend of the 40's? I'm happy not to float off into space, but my bottom is not afraid of heights, so just back off a bit Mr. Gravity! I'm also not trying to change my ethnic origin by changing the angles of my eyes. I'm quite content being a rythm challenged white girl. Speaking of eyes, mine are all fuzzy now. I get it. Gravity, droopy eyes....God knew we wouldn't be happy seeing it, so He planned on the eyes growing weaker. Then some wacky genius type came along and figured out eye glasses and now the world is selling surgical procedures all because that genius went and enlightened us to our own flaws. This is a great example of "outsmarting ourselves".
Two years is just overwhelming I am seeing. I need a plan or a blog plan to catch up. I'm not organized, not in an obvious kind of way. It's a gift, depending on your personality. It's similiar to the gift of being able to sleep absolutely anywhere. Awesome, until you're driving home from college in a snowstorm, and you exercise that ability to sleep anywhere. I might have tested that once. Anyway, all you A types, relax. We let you have "A" as your "category" because we left A somewhere and couldn't remember where! But honestly.....we don't want to be "organized". Seriously, people like you have too many heartattacks, it's just not healthy. Ya'll are great, get a ton of stuff done and we even marry you people, we just don't want to be you, no offense for real.
More update news: I talked my husband into chickens! Kind of.....he came home and we had chickens, and well you know how that goes. They were cute and alive and he's a sucker for cute little critters as long as they aren't digging up his yard. He just started building a chicken pen and you proabably know the rest of the story already. Now we eat eggs and my children order eggs laid by specific hens. Yes, so this is what I hear "I'll take one of Mabel's eggs please". I admit it, sometimes I just grab an egg and let them assume they got what they requested. Okay, when it was just 3 laying I knew who did what egg. Now, well, I think 5 are laying and somebody, like Emma or Vada lays this honkin' big double yoked thing that won't fit in the egg carton well at all and then somebody else that could also be Emma or Vada lays a cute little teeny, tiny egg that is sometimes dark brown and sometimes light brown and quite frankly I'm just confused now. To top it all off the man at the feed store said Emma and Vada are bred to lay 2 eggs a day! So it's really like I'm trying to monitor the laying of 8 chickens. I am not putting a video cam in the chicken pen, so as the saying goes "you get what you get, and you don't throw a fit".
We like green eggs and ham!
So how to catch you up on the past two years? I'll start with me. Gravity took hold. Why is gravity not a friend of the 40's? I'm happy not to float off into space, but my bottom is not afraid of heights, so just back off a bit Mr. Gravity! I'm also not trying to change my ethnic origin by changing the angles of my eyes. I'm quite content being a rythm challenged white girl. Speaking of eyes, mine are all fuzzy now. I get it. Gravity, droopy eyes....God knew we wouldn't be happy seeing it, so He planned on the eyes growing weaker. Then some wacky genius type came along and figured out eye glasses and now the world is selling surgical procedures all because that genius went and enlightened us to our own flaws. This is a great example of "outsmarting ourselves".
Two years is just overwhelming I am seeing. I need a plan or a blog plan to catch up. I'm not organized, not in an obvious kind of way. It's a gift, depending on your personality. It's similiar to the gift of being able to sleep absolutely anywhere. Awesome, until you're driving home from college in a snowstorm, and you exercise that ability to sleep anywhere. I might have tested that once. Anyway, all you A types, relax. We let you have "A" as your "category" because we left A somewhere and couldn't remember where! But honestly.....we don't want to be "organized". Seriously, people like you have too many heartattacks, it's just not healthy. Ya'll are great, get a ton of stuff done and we even marry you people, we just don't want to be you, no offense for real.
More update news: I talked my husband into chickens! Kind of.....he came home and we had chickens, and well you know how that goes. They were cute and alive and he's a sucker for cute little critters as long as they aren't digging up his yard. He just started building a chicken pen and you proabably know the rest of the story already. Now we eat eggs and my children order eggs laid by specific hens. Yes, so this is what I hear "I'll take one of Mabel's eggs please". I admit it, sometimes I just grab an egg and let them assume they got what they requested. Okay, when it was just 3 laying I knew who did what egg. Now, well, I think 5 are laying and somebody, like Emma or Vada lays this honkin' big double yoked thing that won't fit in the egg carton well at all and then somebody else that could also be Emma or Vada lays a cute little teeny, tiny egg that is sometimes dark brown and sometimes light brown and quite frankly I'm just confused now. To top it all off the man at the feed store said Emma and Vada are bred to lay 2 eggs a day! So it's really like I'm trying to monitor the laying of 8 chickens. I am not putting a video cam in the chicken pen, so as the saying goes "you get what you get, and you don't throw a fit".
We like green eggs and ham!
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