Archive for the ‘boys’ Category

10 Jul

I Left My Baby On a Train!

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, humor, kids, letting go, motherhood, parenting, train travel, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , .

Ok, I didn’t actually leave my baby on a train. It was my 13-year-old and I didn’t leave him anywhere; I put him on a commuter train heading for the safety of camp in the northern suburbs of Chicago.

Still, as the train pulled away from the station, it sure felt like I placed my newborn on the train and let him go.

It was like that Subaru commercial with the dad who is giving his car keys to his older daughter but instead of a mature teenager all he sees is a little girl in the driver’s seat.

What was I thinking??

Even my husband (he of the “let’s send our kids to summer camp for eight weeks and not have any communication with them” mindset) couldn’t believe that I let our son take the train! WTF?? I thought he would see this as a huge step toward independence.

It didn’t help that I kept replaying scenes from movies over and over in my head as I drove home from the train station.

Have you seen the movie, Source Code? The Jake Gyllenhaal movie where the northbound commuter train in Chicago explodes over and over again? Yes, that scene kept popping up.

Followed very closely by the scene from the movie, Unstoppable, where Chris Pine and Denzel Washington are desperately trying to stop a train from hurtling off the edge of the train tracks as it races toward a sharp bend in the tracks. (Clearly I have to stop watching late night television).

I fretted for a while, wondering if he actually made it to camp then realized, if there really was a problem, I would have gotten a call from the counselor who meets my son and his friend at the train every morning (or at least I would have seen something on the morning news, right?).

Then it hit me: what I was most afraid of when I put him on that train is not that he would end up as the victim of some crazy Hollywood movie plot; it was that he wouldn’t need me anymore.

The more independent my “baby” gets the less he will need me…and then he will be gone.

With my 17-year-old just a year away from leaving for college (and basically gone most of the time already) my youngest is the only one I have left to take care of (unless you count my husband and the dog and my 17-year-old when he is home, but you get the point).

Letting go of my 13-year-old means just that—letting go and not knowing what will happen or where he is or what he is doing. It’s scary…

…and, yet, surprisingly easy to get used to.

Let me explain.

The first couple of days I walked him down to the platform and admonished him to stay behind the yellow line. I waited for his friend to meet him but not for the train to actually show up (I watched for that from the bridge, out of his line of sight).

By the third day I found the walk down to the platform to be unnecessary. His friend will show up, I reasoned. Besides, it’s not like he wanted to sit and chat with me while we waited.

photo

He can’t get away fast enough

Day Four:

My alarm goes off at 6:45 am and my first thought is: why can’t he just ride his bike to the train?

What a difference four days make…

12 Jun

Parenting is Like Your Senior Year in High School

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, homework, humor, kids, motherhood, parenting, senioritis, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Do you remember suffering from senioritis as a student: those final weeks when you couldn’t wait for high school/college/grad school to end so you could get on with the rest of your life?

I think I’m suffering from the parenting equivalent.

I know that unlike high school/college/grad school, the parenting gig doesn’t end (as my cousin once said to me “once you have kids you always have kids”) but the apathy that I have been feeling towards my parental duties is highly reminiscent of those days when I could not bring myself to finish another study guide or research paper.

Sure, eventually I would slog through the notes and the reviews and the essays in school, but I remember doing so with no enthusiasm and wondering when the drudgery would end.

Kinda how I feel about parenting right now.

I swear if I have to pack another lunch/drive another carpool/sign another form, I’ll lose my mind.

Which is why I have not been able to write a single blog about how I’ve sucked as a parent, because everything I’ve done kinda sucks.

The other day my 13-year-old’s dinner consisted of a Frappuccino from Starbucks, some Oreos and a large bag of Sun Chips (at least it was the veggie kind). He may have had a cheese stick, too, but I don’t remember…I was too busy reading People magazine.

I couldn’t even bring myself to yell at my 17-year-old for slacking off on his finals! He and his girlfriend were “studying” for physics and I heard a great deal of laughing. Laughing! Physics is not something to laugh about – unless you are on a roller coaster – and yet they were giggling and I knew that nothing was getting done. I could not muster up one “Have you learned anything yet??!!” because I was catching up on episodes of Lost.

The good news is, in school, if you succumb to the effects of senioritis there could be real consequences. A recent New York Times post listed the potential pitfalls of slacking off as a senior in high school: losing your spot, having to explain yourself to the administration or worse, losing a scholarship.

Thankfully, for me, the consequences of my slacking off are far less dire. First, my children are old enough so they really can fend for themselves. Eventually even my carb-loving youngest child would scramble an egg or eat some yogurt. Heck, he might even be motivated enough to get his brother to take him out to eat! And my oldest would eventually suck it up and do his homework, probably even more so because I’m not nagging him.

I also have a husband who helps pick up my slack, as long as it has nothing to do with talking to our kids about sex or telling our 17-year-old that he can’t have his girlfriend in his bedroom – at which point he will run away and is no help at all.

I assume this monotony will eventually end and be replaced with exciting parenting duties like driving to-and-from camp and planning college visits. Until then I will stock the fridge with heat-and-serve dinners and take the lock off my older son’s door. And, finish watching Lost. I only have four more seasons to go…

6 Feb

Running Bases

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

“I started my friend on a run today,” my 12-year-old told me as we made our way past the deli section at our neighborhood grocery store.

“A run?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“With a girl he likes,” he replied.

“I don’t get it,” I said.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised, a knowing smile playing across his face, “You know, running to first base, second base, third base…”

WTF??

I was frozen to the spot and not because I was in the ice cream aisle.

He’s 12!

And I’m his mom!!  Who says that to his mom??!

There is no way he understands what he just said, I thought. No way that my baby would be so intentionally crude in the frozen food section of the local grocery store.

“Do you know what that means?” I asked him as I reached for the ice cream (I couldn’t look at him and besides, I was going to need a lot of chocolate if his answer was yes).

“Of course,” he said.

“Where did you hear that?” I asked. I’m going to ground his older brother for life!! 

“TV,” he responded casually, not at all aware of the visions his comments were forcing me to have.

What kind of TV is my husband letting him watch??!

I turned to face him.

“Do you know what all the bases stand for?’ I asked.

“Whadda ya mean, stand for?” he asked warily.

“Sex,” I spat, probably a little louder than I intended because at least three people turned in my direction and glared at me.

“Sex?” my son repeated.  Now more people were staring.  “No, no,” he stammered. “It’s not sex. It means dating. It’s a homerun when the girl will go out with you.”

“No, it’s about sex,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Stop!” he yelled, covering his ears. “No, no, no. Stop talking about it!”

He raced ahead of me to the check out line.

Whew!  I thought. My kid isn’t a clueless little creep after all.

Despite the embarrassing stares from the toddler-toting set picking up their last-minute dinner supplies I felt pretty good about our little chat. And then it hit me…I just gave him something to think about! He was probably going to ask me what the bases were!

I put down the chocolate bar and headed for the wine department. This would definitely require something a bit stronger.

27 Nov

Bathroom Humor

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , .

I’m writing this from my bathroom.

No, I’m not actually using the bathroom–I’m hiding.

It’s the only place in my house that I know that none of my boys (my husband included) will enter for fear that I may actually be using the space for its intended purpose (well, our dog always tries to come in, but he knows no boundaries).

See, I need my own space (especially during a long holiday weekend) and this is something that my men folk just don’t get. My job is to always be available for them and therefore, I should never be too far or too occupied to fulfill my duties as a doting wife and mother. But everyone needs a bathroom break so that’s my excuse. Of course, no one needs as many bathroom breaks as I pretend to—at least not without a serious medical issue—but they haven’t caught on yet. (Or if they have none of them is willing to take a chance.)

I don’t even have a very large bathroom to stretch out in. Our master bathroom is not the largest bathroom in our house and there are no oversized ottomans or attached walk in closets with comfy seats for me to perch on for extended periods of time. No, if I want to read or write or simply be alone I have a small stool (no pun intended) to sit on. This plays into my husband’s hands because if I was too comfortable he knows that I would never leave.

My husband has his home office (and his head because he is able to tune out everyone no matter where he is sitting), my kids have their bedrooms and the basement and the loft and who am I kidding, they have anywhere they happen to be sitting because that’s what kids do- they take over. But me? I can’t find a quiet spot in my house to call my own.

We don’t have an enormous house but it certainly isn’t a studio apartment either so you would think that if I wanted to have a phone conversation while standing in the kitchen my boys could find another spot in which to fight over the chocolate-covered popcorn. Apparently, they can’t. So I move.

But they follow me.

Even if I try to hide in the walk-in pantry or the laundry room they follow me (I thought they would avoid the laundry room on the off chance that I would make them help with the laundry but, apparently, that threat is not enough of a deterrent). The only place that they can’t (ok, won’t) follow me into is the bathroom.

So here I am. In the bathroom. Hiding.

Virginia Woolf wrote about the importance of a room of one’s own if a woman wanted to write. I don’t think she meant the bathroom but she would probably agree that it’s better than nothing.

So after I finish this I think I’ll do some Cyber Monday holiday shopping. I still have a few more minutes before they begin to suspect anything.

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6 Nov

Parenting Disconnect

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, payphones, reading a map, teaching. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

Of all the things that I thought I would need to teach my children, using a payphone never broke the top 500.

Why would I need to teach them to use a payphone? Doesn’t the phone have instructions written on it? Who doesn’t know how to use a payphone?

But then I read an article in the Wall Street Journal about how New Yorkers needed pay phones due to the spotty cell phone service and lack of power in the wake of Hurricane Sandy’s recent devastation. Apparently, many 20-somethings had never used a payphone before and they weren’t sure what to do.

I was appalled at first but the more I thought about it the more I realized that I have not needed to use a payphone in over 20 years so why would someone 20 years my junior need to?

And, more importantly, why would my kids need to use one?

In the time it would take my kids to find a working pay phone they could ask someone to use a cell phone unless, like the people in New York and New Jersey, there was no cell service or no electricity to charge their phones.  I know that my kids would figure it out but it made me realize that what I needed to explain was the finer points of making a collect call (because, really, who has change for a call anyway?).  I don’t think my kids have ever needed to call an operator or even know what an operator does.

To test my theory, I just asked my 12-year-old how to call the operator:

Me: “If you needed to call the phone operator what would you do?”

My Kid: “Why would I need to call the operator?”

Me:  “Humor me. What would you do?”

Kid: “I guess I would push ‘O’. But why?”

Me:  “What if you didn’t have any money but you needed to make a phone call?”

Kid: “Why would I need money to make a phone call?”

Me: “What if you didn’t have a charged cell phone?”

Kid: “I would ask someone if I could borrow theirs.”

Me: “What if you weren’t with anyone and you needed to use a payphone?”

Kid: “Where would I find a payphone? Couldn’t I just find a store that is open and ask them to use the phone? I’m a kid, they would let me.”

At least I know he’s thinking.

All of this made me wonder about all of the other things that I never thought that I would need to teach my kids. I don’t mean programming the VHS recorder or slicing a mango with just a knife,

I’m talking about skills that I never thought my kids would need given our technological advancements but maybe I should teach them anyway. Here are just a few:

  1. How to read a map. My kids think that GPS is all you need but there have been plenty of times when the very pleasant voice on my phone is telling me to turn left but doing so would land me in someone’s front yard. Besides, as we all know, cell service is not a given.
  2. How to use an encyclopedia (and do research) that is not on-line. I know this is something they should learn at school but I swear I haven’t seen my kids go to the library to do research since 2nd grade. Besides, I love encyclopedias. I used to read them for fun (seriously). Using a microfiche machine would also fall into this category.
  3. How to use a phone book. My kids probably don’t know where they are or why they would use one when they have access to computers, smart phones and tablets. But what if they are stuck at a diner/gas station/truck stop in the middle of nowhere and they need to use a payphone to call for a hotel room/ tow truck/food delivery? Yes, they can read so, yes, they could figure it out but forcing them to look up a number in the phone book might not be such a bad thing.
  4. How to use a fax machine. My 12-year-old and I were watching the movie, Air Force One, and one of the characters used a fax machine to send a message to the White House because the fax machine was on a separate line from the phones. My son asked whether anyone uses a fax machine anymore. My mother and father-in-law still have one but we don’t.  I just scan, .pdf and email. I have, however, needed to fax something so maybe the kids should know how…just in case they find themselves without the ability to scan, .pdf and email.
  5. How to start a fire without matches, a gas-powered cook top or a lighter. No power. No gas. Freezing temperatures. Enough said.
  6. How to sit at dinner without pulling out your smart phone. Ok, this one is not an actual skill (or maybe it is) but it is a necessity. I was at brunch with my kids the other day and neither one of them could sit still and have a conversation without texting or having a screen in front of them. Granted, the adults eventually pulled out their phones but I’m sure the adults could engage in conversation even if they didn’t have an app to fall back on (at least I hope we could).

What would be on your list of skills that you thought you would never have to teach your kids?

 

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21 Oct

Strike Back

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , .

Have you heard about the mom who went on strike? For six days, Jessica Stilwell, mother of three girls, refused to pick-up, clean up, or otherwise wash anything for her daughters in the hope that they would simply do it themselves. Sure, they eventually broke down and cleaned the mess but only after six days of forcing their family to live in squalor. Who wants to live through that??

I’ve often dreamed of going on strike except in my dream I run away.

I run away to a beautiful tropical island where I don’t have to look at six days worth of dishes in the sink or clothes on the couch. If I’m going to teach my kids a lesson I might as well do it in comfort.

But, alas, fleeing to a tropical locale is not always a realistic option. That’s why I’ve come up with a new solution: throw out your back!

 

No plane ticket required; just a lack of mobility and a hefty doctor’s bill (unless you’ve met your insurance deductible for the year, then your golden).

Sure it’s painful; but it has an upside: even if you want to clean up, you can’t. Ms. Stilwell had to fight her natural impulses to scrub, organize and scream. I get to escape to my room and lay on the floor, no questions asked.

I really can’t push a vacuum cleaner or empty a dishwasher and, although, I suppose I could assemble a meal (or at least pick up the phone to order one) why would I do that?

I don’t want to give them hope.

Which reminds me; don’t let them see you doing ANY housework. Don’t wipe down the counters, or let the dog out or even fluff a pillow. They are looking for signs that you are improving. If you can put away the cereal box, then obviously, you are well enough to do the laundry. Don’t give them hope (this, by the way, applies to your spouse as well).

If you opt for this plan, however, make sure at least one of your children sees you writhing in pain. There is no substitute for this. If they only see you limping around or moving slowly, they may know you are in pain, but it may not be enough pain to prevent you from making them lunch.

Unfortunately, only my youngest saw me injure myself while taking off my boots. (Yes, taking off my boots did me in, and, no, I’m not 80-years-old). My subsequent screams were enough to reduce my 12-year-old to tears. Now, if he sees me lean forward to get something or I simply ask him to do something he jumps to my aid.

My oldest, on the other hand, missed the show. He came home after I was already tucked in bed at 8:30 at night. Although that did seem disturbing to him, it clearly wasn’t enough for him to really understand the extent of my pain. The following day I actually had to text him from my prone position on the family room floor to get him to let our barking dog in.

He was sitting 15 feet away.

Yelling for him didn’t work because he had his ear buds in and the music was so loud that even I could hear it. Now, normally, if I need him to do something and his ear buds are in I have two options:  walk up to him and yank an ear bud out or—as is more often the case—I simply do whatever it is myself. This time, however, I didn’t have much of a choice. So I sent him a text.

I saw him lean around the corner to see why I was texting him from 15 feet away. I looked him in the eye as I reached for my back and moaned. Unfair, I know, but, come on! I’m on the floor!

He only bitched for a little of the 20 foot walk to the door.

At that moment I actually considered recreating my back spasm so he, too, could witness the extent of my injury. One pull on my cowboy boots or a quick twist to the right and bam! Maybe that would be enough to make him stop complaining. But, no, even I’m not that much of a masochist.

Or aren’t I…

Did I just hear my youngest mutter that he doesn’t have any clean clothes to wear? Where are my boots?

3 Oct

Decisions, Decisions

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, kids, parenting. Tagged: , , , , .

I need your opinion.

Am I a bad mom if I let my son go to a party? A party where it was likely that some kids would be drinking alcohol and that I could only guess would eventually be broken up by the police because high school parties haven’t changed much since I was in high school? Have I set a dangerous precedent where I can no longer revoke his party going privileges??

My 16-year-old (who is a junior in high school) asked if he could drive to a party this past weekend. He told me who was having the party and somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered hearing something about this kid and his parties.

I asked my son if the kid’s parents were going to be home. He didn’t know.

I asked my son if there would be alcohol. He didn’t know.

I chose to believe that he really didn’t know and I let him go.

Thankfully the police were already lining the streets when he pulled up to the party so he didn’t have to formulate an exit plan while he was there.

A friend of mine said that having the police at the party before he got there was a good lesson because next time my son will think, “All parties are eventually broken up by the police.”

I’m worried that my son and his friends were thinking, “Next time we need to get to the party before the cops come.”

My son has been to “parties” before; parties where they serve Arnold Palmers and pizza. If only every party he will attend would be this innocent. But they usually aren’t.

I’ve had several parents tell me that they heard about “the party” and in the same breath tell me that their kids would never go to a party like that. Too bad these are the same kids who were texting my son from the party (he showed me the texts).

See, I let my son go because he told me he was going. He could have lied and told me that he was going to a friend’s house and gone to the party anyway (like most of the kids). But he didn’t. He told me the address of the party, he told me the friend he was going with and he gave me his friend’s cell phone number.

He also texted us when he got to the party and told us about the cops on the street.

What other junior in high school is going to do that?

Before he left for the party I laid out the rules. Even though I know he doesn’t drink or do drugs, my mantra was the same: No drinking, no drugs, and if the cops show up—leave. (See, he’s the kid who would go talk to the police and try to help…and probably get arrested).

His response: “Mom, please. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’m 16.”

I’m still laughing about that one.

When he got home he gave me the play-by-play. I heard about the police, the ambulance (???!), the fight in the parking lot of the pizza parlor where he and his friends eventually ended up, the kid with the pot at the party (!). I heard it all – or at least 2/3 (ok maybe 50%). But still, he was talking.

That’s not to say that I believe that he will always tell me everything or he will never get in trouble or he will never do anything stupid. (Please, he is stupid – he’s 16).

But for now, I think that I can trust him so I give him a bit of a longer leash – until I think I have to pull back.

Before he went up to his room, I hugged him – he’s so naïve that he actually thought I was only saying goodnight and didn’t notice me sniffing him like a police dog. I may trust him but I’m not stupid.

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27 Aug

Freaky Friday

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , .

This is a five-minute segment of texts from this past Friday night:

9:25:What time am I picking you up?

9:27:??

9:28:Why aren’t you picking up your phone????

9:30:Where are you?

Couple those texts with three missed calls during the same five-minute period and it seems like a typical Friday night exchange between parent and teen. Only these texts and calls were from my 16-year-old to me.

So uncool.

Let me rewind a couple of hours.

I went to a party at a friend’s house Friday night and I mentioned to my son that he might need to pick me up. I didn’t want to drive to the party because I wanted to be able to have a glass of wine with dinner and my husband was out of town. With no designated driver my options were limited to bumming a ride home with someone who would probably be drinking (not a good idea), calling a cab (which seemed silly for a two mile drive) or walking the two miles home which would normally be fine only my friend’s house is in an area that is on a stretch of winding road with no sidewalk.  It’s scary enough to drive there at night let alone walk that area.

That’s when I had my epiphany: my 16-year-old could pick me up. What good is having a built-in designated driver if you can’t take advantage of him?

I knew that he wasn’t doing anything terribly exciting that he couldn’t tear himself away from for 15 minutes so why not. Right?

Fast forward a few hours…

I had been at the party for a couple of hours when I finally heard my cell phone ringing.

 

“Where have you been?” he yelled into the phone when I finally answered.

  Shit. I’m going to be grounded.

I swear that was my first thought. That’s how much he sounded like my mother.

“I thought you wanted me to pick you up,” he continued in the same raised voice.

At no point did I want to snap at him and tell him that I was the parent and he couldn’t tell me what to    do. Instead I was thinking, Whoa, dude, chill. I’m at a party and you are ruining my fun.

I had to  suppress a laugh.

“Come get me in a half hour,” I finally responded. I hadn’t planned to stay at the party very long anyway and I figured it was the least that I could do since my oldest had let his little brother tag along to his friend’s house.

37 minutes later.

I felt my phone vibrating and I saw this:

10:04 – “Mom, please come up. I can’t be parked where I am.”

10:05 – “?”

10:06 – “Are you coming up??”

10:07 – “We’re coming down to get you.”

Whaddya mean you’re coming down to get me??

I turned just in time to see my youngest son coming down the stairs to the party.

I was a bit mortified. People were looking. How embarrassing!!

I shooed him away, said my goodbyes and reluctantly marched up the stairs to the waiting car.  My son was now rolling down the passenger window and glaring at me.

“I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes,” he said as I climbed into the car. “And he,” jerking his thumb at my youngest in the back seat. “He needs to go to bed. He’s been yawning.”

OMG! My son had morphed into the parent.

There are times when I look at my mom and wonder when she became the child and I became the adult. I didn’t expect my son to step into the role of parent until he was at least 30. And, yet, here he was, lecturing me the whole way home about how he had to wait for me and it was late and his little brother needed to go to bed. I felt myself sinking lower in my seat, suddenly feeling like a teenager who broke curfew.

Which is why I didn’t call him the following afternoon when I needed a ride after my post-pedicure birthday mojito. He can be such a buzz kill.

2 Aug

Controlled Chaos

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, family, kids, Olympics, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , .

Forget Dr. Spock. Forget Madeline Levine. My new parenting guru is Bob Bowman.

For those of you not following the London 2012 Summer Olympics, Bob Bowman is Michael Phelps’ coach. Bowman has been training the winningest Olympian in history for the past 16 years. And, although I’m sure he has taught Phelps all sorts of useful stuff during that time, my favorite lessons are the ones when he screwed with Phelps.

During an interview on NBC last night Bowman admitted to messing with Phelps to make him “familiar with chaos.”

Familiar with chaos?

Forget the light bulb, a whole freaking chandelier went off in my head!

I’ve spent the past 16 years trying to PREVENT CHAOS from rearing it’s nasty head in my kids’ direction (as if I could anticipate when that would happen) – when all of this time I should have been teaching my kids how to live in the middle of bedlam.

Effing brilliant!

Bowman admitted during the interview that he once cracked Phelps’ goggles by stepping on them, forcing Phelps to swim with goggles filled with water. I’m sure Bowman didn’t realize at the time that this little stunt would come in handy during the Beijing Olympic Games. Broken goggles happen—you never know when—you just have to deal with it.

Bowman’s approach makes so much sense. You can’t become the greatest swimmer – ever – if you crumble at the first crisis. You have to keep on moving even when your goggles are filled with water. Similarly, you can’t become a capable, independent adult if you need to call someone every time your ride is late or your calculator runs out of batteries or your homework is missing. Stuff happens—you never know when—you just have to deal with it.

Bowman also admitted to hiding Phelps’ goggles right before a meet so he would have to swim without them and making the driver pick them up late so Phelps would miss dinner. Was Phelps pissed? Probably. Did he stop swimming? No. Bowman trained Phelps to deal with unexpected situations that very well might creep up on him one day–when it really mattered (did I mention Beijing?).

I thought I was preparing my kids to be launched into the world by teaching them practical, useful skills like doing laundry and tying a tie. But who am I kidding? If my kids were faced with utter chaos they would probably whip out their phones to call me and ask me how to solve the problem.

So, in the interest of preparing my kids for the unexpected, I’ve decided to take a page from Bowman’s training manual and screw with them.

Now, I would never leave them somewhere if I knew they would be in danger. I wouldn’t want the car to run out of gas when they are on the highway, their phones to die when they are in the city, or their debit cards to be depleted just as they are about to board a plane. But I know these things could happen because similar things have happened to me. I just have no intention of orchestrating that.

So I’ll start small. Maybe I won’t pick them up from school or soccer practice or ACT prep class AND (and this is important) I won’t pick up the phone when they call!

What would they do?

I could lock them out of the house!

I could forget to pack lunch!

What if I swiped my 16-year-old’s wallet as he left the house to go out with friends or what if I gave him bad directions to a friend’s house and he couldn’t find his way? How would he handle those situations? Could he handle those situations?

My kids may not be training for the Olympic games but chaos is everywhere and they should know how to deal with it.

If I get to screw with my kids in the process, all the better.

 

Would you mess with your kids? Let me know.

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30 Jun

What Were They Thinking?

Posted by I suck as a parent in boys, children, kids, parenting, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , .

As my youngest son and I were driving to the doctor’s office in our local hospital we began reminiscing about the time that I was racing to catch up to the ambulance carrying him to the same hospital after he hit his forehead at a local swimming pool (see #1 below). This got me thinking about some of the other, perhaps not as urgent, moments in my two boys’ young lives that resulted in injuries. I laughed a little as I looked back at these moments because these particular injuries were really just so ridiculous. I can’t imagine any girls being injured in the same ways (Maybe I’m wrong. Please tell me if I am).

Of course, I blamed myself for every one of these injuries (“If only I had been there when he decided to sled down an icy stairway!” “If only I had taught them that metal chairs hurt when you land on them from a high vertical jump!”) But, I realized after reviewing this list, that all of the lessons that they’ve learned and all the nagging that I’ve done wouldn’t have prevented any of these injuries because boys do mind-boggling things. I was simply “letting” my boys be boys.

So, here is my top ten list of stupid things that my kids have done and the resultant injury. And, just so you know, I was only present for two of them—#2 and #3—and I couldn’t have stopped either one of them if I tried:

#1 – Running into a pole in the middle of the kiddie pool. (result: 5 stitches. Also, the club has now banned anyone over the age of 5 from the kiddie pool);

#2 – Running in the house while looking behind him and turning just in time to meet the corner of the door jamb (broken nose);

#3 – Jumping up for no apparent reason and landing chin first on the back of a metal kitchen chair (3 stitches);

#4 – Sledding down the neighbor’s ice-covered front stairs. The sled continued on but his head stayed behind and hit the concrete stairs (CT scan, no concussion);

#5 – Playing soccer in the street—barefoot—and kicking at a ball that was right along the curb (broken toe, lost toe nail);

#6 – Playing soccer in the 3 1/2 foot wide upstairs hallway—barefoot—and kicking at the door jamb instead of the ball (broken toe);

#7 – Getting shot point-blank in the ear with a high-powered water gun during a water gun fight (punctured eardrum);

#8 – Lying across the top of a large ride-on truck and pushing himself straight into the dog’s elevated metal water bowl (broken nose);

#9 – Getting shot in the neck while playing paint ball without a neck guard  (a lot of bleeding and a big scar, physically and probably emotionally as well);

And, my personal favorite:

#10 – Shooting himself in the leg with an air-soft gun to prove that air-soft guns don’t hurt (they really do and, they leave a mark).

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