It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like...CPS

This time of year can be very stressful for parents. We're shopping, and driving, and parking, and baking. We wrap, we clean, we eat, we gather, we plan, we host, we create. We keep the myth of Santa alive. We move elves from room-to-room. We forget to move elves from room-to-room. We send cards, take photos, hang cards, forget to take photos. We stand in line, entertain, buy stamps, buy wrapping paper, buy more wrapping paper, and remind children of the true nature of the season.

And all through it, we d-r-a-g our patient little ones from place to place so that we may better spread our Christmas cheer.

So when threats run out, and elves aren't watching, and you have to go back to the supermarket for the 15twentieth time...you might want to try a little trick involving, oh, say...shackling your children like the prisoners they are, and chaining their hineys to the cart.

Case in point:

Two Willing Participants

A little bit of (toy) chain.

One cart.

God only knows what they're doing here.

Voila: One happy mama (and a friendly neighbor in disgust admiration).

My mad parenting skillz worked tonight, yo.

50 Is The New 40 and 32 is the New ... Where Was I?

Sometimes I worry.  Like about myself.  

I shouldn't do that.  In fact I know I shouldn't do that because I watched The Secret again today.  Negative energy creates more negative energy.  So I gotta get off that.

But really?  Exhibit A:

I was wrapping this gift for my husband today:

When it occurred to me that, it looked vaguely familiar.

Kind of like the one hanging in OUR CLOSET ALREADY?

He also reminded me that upon noticing his "Lucky" jeans yesterday, I said, "Hey, when did you get those?  I like those jeans."  

Apparently, not only has he had them for months, but I also asked him the exact same question, in the exact same way a few weeks ago.  No recollection.

I commented on a blog post recently.  A birthday post.  I truly thought, Wow Happy Birthday Friend.  Then, I went back today, and commented on the same post, never knowing I had seen it before, let alone commented.

I dunno.  I remember strange things, dreams for example, with such vivid color and clarity.

Then, other days...

Exhibit, what am I on, Exhibit D?  Patrick and I had a night out recently, last weekend I think.  We checked into a hotel.  The Bourne Ultimatum was on.  I plopped on the bed and was enthralled with one of my favorite series.  I LOVE these movies.

Only, this time...I couldn't remember it.  None of it.  Not just the ending.  But the parts in between.  "We saw this together," Patrick told me.  I kept thinking my memory would be jarred by (hello?) MATT DAMON!!!  But... nothin'.

So.  I dunno.  I'm hoping 33 brings my memory back, 'cause 32 is kind of freaking me out.  

Breaking Gender Stereotypes One Set of Footy Jammies at a Time

Watch out world.  There's a Mom here who celebrates differences, encourages freedom to choose, and relishes in responsible decision-making.  

These kids are the face of innocence.  When is it that gender stereotypes will make them ashamed and embarrassed for wearing their siblings' clothes?  Guess what world?  When boys play with dolls, they learn to nurture.  When girls play with trucks, they learn mechanics.  And when kids are just left alone to have fun -- they do what feels good.  Remember that?   

I'm not shaking up the world because I let my kids wear different colors, but I hope I am because I encourage them to go with their instinct.  I hope compassion doesn't get lost when they head out the door.  I hope they seek diversity in friendship and experience.  

So shake it up.  Go on.  Tell me what you do.

Chores

The dishes are piling up.

The laundry begs to be put away.

There are messages to return.

The dog really wants a good walk.

Toothpaste streaks the sinks.

I really need to vacuum.

Somehow, I think those things will wait.  

Pre-School Cliques

Mean girls.  What's a Mom to do?  I didn't actually see the movie, but I did see a pre-school version of it at the park today.  

New girls arrived at the park after about an hour of mostly boys running and sliding.  Tatum loves playing with the "big girls" (you know, 4 and 5 year olds).  When the new crew of girls came, Tatum asked me if she could play with them.  I told her to go ask them (presuming anyone would just leap at the chance to play with my adorable, brilliant little darling).

Tatum:  (shuffles some confident steps up to the new girls playing in the sand) Can I play with you? (smile)

  

Big Girls:  No we're sisters and you're not a sister.

Tatum:  I'm a sister, and Chase is my brother.

Big Girls:  You're not our sister.  

Tatum:  But, can I play with you?

Big Girls:  (big sigh...)  We said, you're not a sister.

Tatum turns and walks back to me.  Maybe only a Mom could see her shoulders slump a little bit..."Mommy they don't want to play with me."  I cringe inside, and up the ante on my sand castle making.

...a few minutes later...a new crew of girls arrive.  These girls appear out-going and friendly.  

Tatum asks to play with this crew.  Again, I watch in horror.

Tatum:  Can I play with you?

Big Girls:  No, we're on a play date and you're not.

What is it with these little cliques?  Already?

So my little angel had her heart broken on the playground twice.  

Now I know that everyone shouldn't be expected to share their sister, or they play date buddy... but come on.  It's the attitude that surprises me.  And as much as I wanted to intervene, nudge the big girls' parents so that they may apologize and insist their kids be friendly with everyone, I know that reality is that kids don't always share.  Kids don't always get along.  And maybe those kids really were sisters, or playdate buddies, but... snotty attitude in a pre-schooler is scary.

I think it hurt me more than it hurt her, but damn it's hard to watch.