Misadventures of Misplaced Expectations

I once heard that ALL disappointments in life are caused by un-met expectations. Because the speaker was a "Communications Expert", his belief was that un-met expectations were caused by poor communication. Judging by the disappointed crying, my folly this time was definitely a failure in communication.

A few days ago, I had to take Alex in for his birthday check-up. He didn't like to have the Dr look in his ears, and he cried. He didn't like the Dr to look in his mouth, and he cried. He didn't like to lie on the crinkly paper, and he cried. He REALLY didn't like to get his shot, and he REALLY cried. After the appointment, we had a little over an hour before we would need to get Erika from school. Since the pediatrician's office is close to Target and since he had had a difficult morning, I asked Alex if he would like to go to Target to get a cookie and look around. He responded that he didn't want to go to Target. He said that he would like to take his car home to be with its friends. I thought that going home and playing with his new matchbox cars would be a fun way for us to spend the time, so I agreed. After we got home, Alex took the car that he had brought with him to the Dr's office and ran into the family room. He carefully placed his car on the couch where he had left the others before his appointment and said, "The car is with his friends, we can go to Target now." I'm sure you see now where my poor communications had led me. I interpreted his desire to bring his car home as a desire to be home himself. The drive to Target from the Dr's office would have been about a mile. The drive home from the Dr's office was closer to ten miles. Hard hearted woman that I am, I was unwilling to drive 10 miles back to Target after I had just driven the 10 miles home. I sadly explained that we would not be able to drive back to Target, it was too far and we had other things that we would need to do. Many and bitter were our tears at this unhappy outcome.

I now realize that when people say that you need to stay one step ahead of your children they are actually referring to the need to know the chronological order of the steps your children wish to make.

Misadventures of a Lesson Unlearned

Once again, my folly lies in finding a mountain instead of the load of mole hills I was expecting.

Once upon a time there was a young woman (very young, in fact, she had just recently celebrated the anniversary of her 29th birthday). This young woman had spent the better part of a Monday doing laundry. At one point in the afternoon, her dryer finished running and she knew that she needed to change the loads or she would never get through it all. However, our heroine felt unable to face folding one more load. So, she turned her back on the laundry, refusing to acknowledge that the dryer was finished. Although, always lurking in the back of her mind, she didn't face her demons until right before bed. Working up her courage, she reluctantly walked into the laundry room. Imagine her surprise (and feeling of stupidity) when she opened the dryer and discovered, not the piles of children's clothing that take forever to fold, but a huge comforter that didn't require any folding and which the dryer is unable to dry completely in one cycle.

Now, I wish that I could tell you that the moral of the story is to face your fears, as they are seldom as bad in real life as they are in your mind. Unfortunately, the real moral of the story is that if you don't pay attention while doing your laundry, you may be stuck washing clothes on TUESDAY.

Misadventures of Family Love

My folly this time was having a birthday. However, I don't think that there is any way out of that one without saying that I wish I had never been born. That seems a trifle over dramatic, so perhaps I should say that my folly was expecting my family to be other than it is.

There is nothing quite like a birthday to show you exactly how much you mean to your family. Yesterday afternoon, I told my sweet children that the very best birthday gift would be for them to do their chores without me having to hound them into it. Austin , in a voice reminiscent of Nicole asking why she had to wash the juicer, said, "But, M-o-o-o-m, you already got your gift." I really had to rack my brain over that one, as I couldn't remember getting any gifts other than the weekend trip that Rick had taken me on. With great exasperation, Austin reminded his obviously ungrateful Mother about the chocolate covered strawberries that he brought home from church. Now, chocolate covered strawberries (with a delightful creamy center) would not usually be a gesture that I would ignore. Perhaps some of the tremendous love that he was showing slipped my mind due to the fact that he dislikes strawberries. His primary teachers had given him the strawberries for an Easter treat and, disliking it, he came home and gave it to me. Judging by the fact that it took many arguments and much hounding to get the chores done, my worth is exactly that of disliked strawberries.

P.S. To anyone reading this post, I actually love chocolate covered strawberries. I guess that I shouldn't judge the motive behind the gesture.

Misadventures of The Worst . . .?

My folly this time lies in the fact that I decided to have children. I'm hoping that a similar scene has played out in other homes proving that I don't actually have the worst children (and am therefore the worst parent) in the world.

This afternoon, I was just finishing washing up my juicer when Nicole came and asked if she could use the juicer when I was finished with it. I groaned inwardly, but said that she could use the juicer. I helped her put the juicer back together and then showed her how to feed the apples in and push them down. When the juicer was finished, I showed her how to take it apart and scrape the extra pulp into the trash. Then I took her to the sink and started handing her pieces to rinse off. After the second piece, she tossed her saucy little head and said (in a voice that I'm sure most parents could identify), "Why do I have to wash the whole thing?" I'm afraid that I couldn't answer that question, as all of my retorts involved language that I didn't really want to teach my "sweet" little girl. After a few moments pause, I was able to explain that she had to wash it because I had just finished cleaning it when she asked to use it and got it dirty again. Her response, "Can't we just stick it in the dishwasher?" I think that it must be time to start washing all dishes by hand.

Misadventures of False Modesty

I sincerely hope that this post is not offensive to anyone. It has been my experience that false modesty usually is a little offensive.

My folly this time lies in being either too specific or not specific enough when speaking to my children (girls especially) about what is considered modest.

I have had many talks with my girls over the years discussing modesty. Not usually big sit down talks, but when we're out and about and we see advertisements with clothing on them we discuss why we keep our bodies covered. We love and respect our bodies so we cloth them modestly. We show this respect by covering our shoulders (though, to tell the truth, I don't have as big a problem with this as Daddy does) and our bellies and not wearing short shorts.

Please try to imagine my utter horror when little Erika came to me a few days ago and said that she had found a magazine that showed ladies' private parts. With great trepidation, I asked her to take me to the magazine. My astonishment grew and grew as I followed her to my nightstand. I can't even begin to describe my relief when she picked up one of my fitness magazines on which the model was wearing a tank top that was lifted a little to show her nice, flat tummy. "See, Mom, you can see her shoulders and her belly."

I guess that it is time to have a big, sit down talk as it seems some explanations need to be made.

Misadventures of Perspective

At times I feel like I've fallen into one of those movies in which you see one event from several different perspectives as you try to piece together the true course of events. Such it was this morning.

It had been a fairly unusual morning in which no one had asked me to find his backpack or her glasses or any one's shoes. About ten minutes before we needed to head out to the bus,I went looking for my strangely quiet children. I found all four of them involved in what looked like a silent rugby scrum. When I cleared my throat, they all jumped back with a chorus of "He/She started it!" So we retired to the Repentance Bench. (Note to Self: If all four children are going to the Repentance Bench together, we need a bigger bench) Sitting on the couch, facing the defendants, I started from my right and went down the bench.

Mom: "Austin, what did you do?"

Austin: "I was beating on Nicole because she-"

Mom: "I didn't ask what Nicole did, I asked what you did."

Austin: "Oh, I was beating up Nicole."

Mom: "Alex, what did you do?"

Alex (with his big cheeky grin): "I stole Cole's caterpillar."

Austin: "It was her favorite graham cracker."

Mom: "Austin, it's not your turn. Erika, what did you do?"

Erika: "I tried to pull Austin off of Nicole."

Mom: "Nicole, what did you do?"

Nicole (with a long suffering sigh and roll of the eyes): "Nothing."

Austin: "She did do something, she-"

Mom: "Austin, thanks, but it is Nicole's turn. Nicole, what did you do?"

Nicole (with another sigh): "I cried."

Austin (who still hasn't quite got the hang of the Repentance bench): "You didn't just cry, you-"

Mom: "AUSTIN! Nicole, you cried and that made Austin beat you up?"

Nicole: "Well, no. I cried and then told Alex he could never have another graham cracker until he was a grown up."

Austin: "And that's why I was beating her up. She can't talk to my brother like that."

Mom: "So, Alex stole Nicole's caterpillar graham cracker. Nicole cried and told Alex that he could never have another graham cracker. That made Austin angry so he started beating on Nicole. And Erika was trying to get Austin to stop. Right?"

Children: "Yep"

Erika (who catches onto things much faster than anyone else) hops down and says, "Sorry, Austin."

Alex (who has more experience with the Repentance Bench than anyone else) hops down and says, "I torry, Cole."

Nicole (with a very grudging tone of voice) says, "Sorry, Alex." and permits him to hug her.

Austin says, "Sorry, Nicole!"

Now everyone's happy and we all somehow managed to make it to the bus on time.

Misadventures of Hearing Voices

I suppose my folly this time is an overactive imagination. With four children, I have at least two people speaking to me at any given time. I frequently find myself trying to sort through two (or three or four) long (and yes, usually pointless) stories punctuated by frequent shouts of, "Hey, I was talking first".

During such an occasion yesterday, I found myself thinking of how wonderful it would be to have an answering service. I think it would go something like this:

"You have reached Mom's Answering Service.

To express LOVE, please press 1

To express APPRECIATION, please press 2

To offer SERVICE, please press 3

To leave a COMPLIMENT, please press 4

If you need a hurt KISSED better, please press 5

If you want a story read to you, please press 6

If you want to be TUCKED In, please press 7

If you are bringing an eye patch to be put on, please press 8

If you want to show Mom a picture you made, please press 9

If you want to TATTLE on someone, please hang up and call Grandma

If you want something done, please hang up and call Daddy

If you want to whine, please hang up and call Dr Phil

If there is a mess to clean up, please hang up and clean it yourself.

If you want your diaper changed or your bottom wiped, you have definitely reached this recording in error.

If you want to tell an insanely long story, please hold .................and hold............and hold.............and hold............and hold........and hold.......and hold.........and hold.............