Tips from the Trenches: A Guide to Practical Parenting

When I was in high school, I took a very interesting course in drug education. It was very detailed and extensive. However, there is one thing they forgot to mention when dicussing gateway substances....and that is pets.

Last Spring, I made a daring move towards more responsibility and esxpanded our family by three, then twleve, cute little fluffy hamsters. Despite some setbacks, the little hammies grew on us and made us feel like invicible, smart, competent pet owners. Yeah, us.

I realize now that this thinking was flawed, perhaps dangerously so, when one June morning a few days after school let out for the Summer I found myself in a "meet and greet" room at the SPCA...with the kids....and a little, black puppy. Needless to say the rest, as they say, is history.

Now, three months later, my confidence level has hit bottom and I'm now in pet rehab. I don't have time for the standard Twelve Step. Frankly, I think many of the steps are just plain BS. I mean pretty much the only step that really matters is the first one "We admitted we were powerless over cute fluffy animals—that our lives had become unmanageable."

After that it is pretty much all about the return policy. The SPCA has a 30-day return policy. Unfortunately, I was in the grip of the addiction at that point and didn't believe that I my kids could live without Sherlock.

The SPCA, like any dealer, knows what it's doing really. They have figured out that most people don't realize they are in over their heads by the 30-day mark. At that point, they are still trying to convince themselves that it wasn't a mistake and that they can handle it or quit at any time. This let's the dealer SPCA off the hook guilt-free and the new addict owner dazed, confused, and being forced to live out their lives at Dog Lover's Obedience School (sorta like a jailhouse work program) until they get off....for good behavior.

The past three weeks on my day planner where supposed to look something like this:

Week 1:

• Go to class
• Do home work
• Coordinate playdates
• Help kids with school work and projects
• Provide home cooked nutritious meals for my family
• Get nearly adequate sleep some nights
• Clean house
• Do laundry
• Prepare for thrilling Girls Weekend Away in VEGAS!!!

Week 2:

• Go to class
• Do home work
• Coordinate playdates
• Help kids with school work and projects
• Provide home cooked nutritious meals for my family
• Get nearly adequate sleep some nights
• Clean house
• Do laundry
• Attend thrilling Girls Weekend Away in VEGAS!!!

Week 3:

• Go to class
• Do home work
• Coordinate playdates
• Help kids with school work and projects
• Provide home cooked nutritious meals for my family
• Get nearly adequate sleep some nights
• Clean house
• Do laundry
• Recover from thrilling Girls Weekend Away in VEGAS!!!

Week 4:

• Go to class
• Do home work
• Coordinate playdates
• Help kids with school work and projects
• Provide home cooked nutritious meals for my family
• Get nearly adequate sleep some nights
• Clean house
• Do laundry
• Reflect upon and plan for next thrilling Girls Weekend Away in VEGAS!!!

This is what my day planner actually looked like:

Week 1:

• Took Child #1 to ER for an apparent allergy to a new medicine (Doctor's appointment #1)
• Dried beloved iPhone 3G off after it was submerged in apple juice
• Took Child #2 to gastroenterologist for initial appointment (Doctor's appointment #2)
• Held screaming Child #2 while unfriendly and inexperienced phlebotomist drew a total of 5 viles of blood from 4 botched locations and 2 non-botched locations on both arms
• Discovered beloved iPhone 3G in bathroom sink with water dripping on it
• Held funeral for aforementioned iPhone 3G.
• Launched a murder investigation.
• Determined I was eligible to spend $300 on a new iPhone (4, this time). Paced order and received shiny new fancy phone.
• Took child #1 to follow-up appointment regarding medicine allergy (Doctor's appointment #3)
• Strep in Child #2 (Doctor's appointment #4)
• Missed class and rushed through school work
• Became sick with flu like/strep-like symptoms myself
• Did laundry, cooked, cleaned, parented

Week 2:

• Secondary infection in Child #2 (Doctor's appointment #5)
• Secondary infection for Mother #1 (Doctor's appointment #6)
• Child #2 broke windshield wiper lever in the "on" position. Had to break it more to make it stop. ($300)
• Early symptoms of respiratory illness in Child #1
• Did laundry, cooked, and parented
• Completed in-class presentation while periodically picking my lungs up off the floor and shoving them back where they belong
• Completed extremely complicated organizational plans for child care for trip
• Attended Thrilling Girls' Weekend Away in VEGAS!!!!! with mild, flu-like symptoms

Week 3:

• Negotiated my return with American Airlines after initial flight home was cancelled
• Recovered from Thrilling Girls' Weekend Away in VEGAS!!!! with mild flu-like symptoms and not-so-mild earache
• Significant respiratory illness with high fever in Child #1 (running all week)
• Exploratory GI diagnostics procedure for Child #2 (Doctor's appointment #7)
• Attended class (barely)
• Laundry, cooking, cleaning
• Mother #1 still not recovered from secondary infection (Refer to doctor's appointment #6 for more information)

Week 4: (And it is only Tuesday!)

• Secondary infection in Child #1 (Doctor's appointment #8, with follow-up appointment next week to rule out asthma)
• Drop shiny new iPhone 4 in toilet at doctor's office while helping Child #2 to wipe her bottom
• Determined that I am no longer eligible for a new iPhone, but I am eligible to pay $800 for a replacement
• Attended the city council meeting that night for a presentation in class this week
• Learned that the solution to dropping a shiny new iPhone 4 in the toilet is to submerge it in a bag of rice for 24-48 hours. (Oh, and strengthen my relationship with God.)
• Buried squirrel that inconveniently dropped dead on my back porch only to be discovered on the way out to taking the kids to school which resulted in a long discussion of how decomposition is great for plants.
• See dermatologist about suspicious, life-threatening mole (Doctor's appointment #9)
• Influenza in Child #2

Upcoming later this week:

• Doctor's appointment #10 for Mother #1 who is not getting better
• Doctor's appointment #11 and #12 for Child #1
• Potential doctor's appointment #13 for Child #2
• Schedule endoscopy for Child #2
• 12 page paper due
• 5 page paper/group project due
• Oral report on city council meeting

Bet you thought the squirrel part was going to be the weirdest part of this whole post, huh?

Ah, peaceful slumber. Saturday morning. Cozy bed. Warm. Soft. Pillow. Best moment ever.

"Mommy! Rose (the hamster) is stiff! She isn't moving!"

Snort. Gulp. Too early for death.

"What? Is she alive?"
"Yes. She's just standing on the couch. Not moving. I think she heard something."

My son is sick. He's been home from school for two days. Yesterday, when I took my daughter to preschool (5 minutes away), I decided to test leaving him at home by himself for a few minutes. See how it goes. I figured he's sick and not really motivated to make trouble. I was right, but...

Before I left, I wrote down my cell phone number, gave him the phone, and had him make a test call so he can see how it all works. He was confident that he would be fine. I agreed so off I went.

As I was buckling my daughter into the car, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to see if it works."
"OK, I'll be back in a few minutes. Bye."

As I was backing out of the parking space, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"I can see you haven't left yet."
"No, I haven't. What did you need?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to see if it still works."
"OK. See you in a few minutes. Bye."

As I was turning into the carpool line, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm at Emma's school."
"Oh."
"When will you be back?"
"About 5 minutes."
"OK."
"Bye."

As I was pulling in to the parking space at home, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"How much longer?"
"I'm nearly there."
"OK. I'm going to look out the window for you."
"OK. Bye."

As I was walking up to the back door, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"I can see you."
"Oh, good."
"Bye."

Once I got home, there was a brief reprieve. However, about 30 minutes later, my phone rang. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry to keep calling, but I'm too weak to come downstairs."
"What do you need?"
"I need a snack."

This went on all day. Even after I left the house to go to class.

This morning, I woke up to my cell phone ringing. It was Jack.

"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Are you still asleep?"
"No."
"Oh, OK. Just wanted to see if it still works."

Next time, I'm making up a phone number.

I'm just not quite ready to give up on this blog yet. It might be in it's death throes though. I think the main problem is that it is a well-beaten horse. The market is well covered and I don't have sharp enough elbows to bruise the competition.

Anyway, in case I decide to close down the shop, I wanted to make sure I give you some back-up resources, in case you have an emergency.

Product recommendations?: http://www.cracked.com/article_16475_20-baby-products-great-traumatizing-infants.html

Fashion advice?: http://www.amusingplanet.com/2009/05/why-you-shouldnt-let-dads-buy-t-shirts.html

Parent advice?: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_do_you_deal_with_ridiculous_parents

Baby naming advice?: http://www.stupidkidnames.com/all-the-stupid-names/

Handling Blu-Tack: http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2009/jun/19/blu-tack-goggles-health-safety

Life changing advice, really. Where's his blog?

This one is short and sweet, but VERY important to your family's ability to afford food....

Make sure that your children understand that OnDemand movies COST MONEY before they are old enough to find OnDemand on their own.

Emma is a bad sleeper. Waking up multiple times a night is more common than sleeping through. She's been in a wake-up phase recently and usually once I'm "on to her" I can get some reprieve by telling her at bedtime I am nearby, but will not come unless it is important. I make her repeat that she will not call me if she wakes up. Usually, this makes a small amount of difference.

So last night, as I was kissing her good night, I reminded her that I wouldn't be coming in. She agreed and said "only if I'm sick." "That's right. I'll come if you got sick and needed me to give you medicine or something." "OK, Mommy. Night night."

Then, at 1:32 AM, I'm pulled from a rare deep sleep by Emma yelling "Mommy, I think I'm going to be sick!"

I leap out of bed before I'm even awake and rush to her room to find her all cozy in bed waiting for me.

She repeated herself and said, "Mommy, I think a drink would make me feel better."

In a daze, I handed her the cup that was FULL BESIDE HER BED, told her that she was naughty, and went back to bed where I tossed and turned for the next 2 hours until I finally passed out.

Looking back on it now, I should have spiked her drink.

After several unreasonable early morning requests in lieu of sleep in my cozy bed, I lost my temper with Emma this morning and told her, "Don't drive me! I'm not a bus!"

I was worried that she wouldn't get the point. It was a somewhat abstract reference. My worry didn't last long because it was until about 10 minutes later when...

EMMA: Mommy, please can I be the boss?
ME: Of course, you can pretend to be the boss. You can play whatever you want.
EMMA: No! I want to be the real boss!

....an Air Freshener War.

Bet you are wondering what that is, aren't you?

Well, for your future reference, an Air Freshener War is when you are on the phone trying to work out a complicated technical problem with your hosting server (a problem which requires the technical support rep to use phrases, such as "we call this a hail mary attempt" and "when was the last time you did a database backup?") and your attention-deprived children who have  become bored waiting for your undivided attention discover two room air fresheners. The war part is pretty self-explanatory.

The result is also self-explanatory.

The nausea is unexpected.

Well, Hell just froze over and I'm officially an adult. All in one day! Middle-age-ish came to slap me hard in the face today when Jack's friend, I'll call him Waldo, came over to play after school.

When I sat down on the couch to take a breath and sit in peaceful cartoon bliss for a moment while the kids sucked on their Incredible Hulk Popsicles and chomped on their Swedish Fish (courtesy of Costco!), my big fat butt hit the "off" button on the remote and the TV was torn asunder. The complaining took mere seconds to errupt.

In the stress of the moment, I couldn't get the remote on the right setting to turn it back on. (We have one of these. Surely, it should be obvious why immediate gratification was a little delayed since I do not possess a PhD in remote science.) After taming my dismay with a few unhappy grunts, Waldo pipes up....

"It's ok. A lot of ladies have that problem when they get old."

The best part was that, when what he said finally sunk in, I told him I was going to tell his mother what he said. At which point, he said "No, don't! My mom will kill me!"

Well, you know what they say....payback's a bitch.

When left to their own devices children will create their own functional microchosm. It took my kids less than an hour to come to this point.

After a busy Thanksgiving, I was taking a little time out in my bed reading and listening to the kids play. I knew my time was up when I hear the following conversation:

JACK: Hey, Emma. Let's go outside.
EMMA: OK.
JACK: We can play deer hunter. You are the deer and I am the hunter.
EMMA: OK.

Sounds of back door opening.

JACK: I'll shoot you. When you get hit, you lie down. OK?
EMMA: OK.
JACK: Now, run! Fast!

Isn't there some book about that?  If not, I'm gonna write it.

If you are new to my blog, this little story should clue you in to what I'm up against on a daily basis.

A few nights ago, I was reading to the kids from a series that I enjoyed when I was growing up, The Mr. Men series by Roger Hargreaves. Since I was a kid, the series has expanded quite a bit to include the "Little Miss" stories. Basically, each story has a simply drawn character called "Mr." or now "Little Miss" Something. The "something" describes a characteristic or personality trait, such as "Happy", "Mean", etc. and the stories tell about an experience each character has based on his/her character trait (or flaw, in some cases). These are low-end British classics that many of the Brits in my generation were read as children, but I digress.

So there we were reading Little Miss Magic which is about a character who has magic powers through which everything she wants to happen does. In the story, she uses the power for good and to accomplish some basic tasks, such as "toast" makes her bread toast or "boil" makes her kettle boil.

At the end of the story, Emma (4-years old) stood up and realized she couldn't go where she wanted to because my legs were in her way. She yelled, "Move!" and, in surprise, I moved my legs. (Normally, I would demand that she say "please" no matter how rude she is being. After all, I am perfect.)

Anyway, after quickly moving my legs, she announced, "That's magic!" and walked away.

Imagine the insight I got from that little encounter. God help me!

As I stuck the meat thermometer in the london broil last night, Emma pops up and asks me what I'm doing. I explained that I was checking to see if the meat was hot enough to eat. To which Emma asked, "is he sick?"

One of the very best parts of being a parent is that you get to say all the cool things that you never thought you'd ever say. You get to mix up words that were never meant to occupy the same sentence and you might even get to have a laugh while you're at it.

Who wouldn't laugh if you could spend you whole day saying things like:

• The rhinoceros can come, but the giraffee and the lion have to stay behind to have a bath.
• Oh, hello Mr. Spiderman. Would you like to have some tea?
• Get down from the roof before it collapses.
• Not everyone wants to be shot at from a car. It wouldn't be fun for them unless they had a gun of their own. Right?
• If Barbie was pregnant with hamsters, she would definitely make a great circus act.

This is all fine and good until it comes back to bite in the proverbial a%@. Like today, for example, when my 7-year old said, "Mommy, let's dial down the crazy for a minute. OK? I am trying to say something." I mean really, what can you say to that?

For those of you who think I'm too "soft" as a parent, this will help you reconsider.

3:00 AM Monday

EMMA: Mommeeeee!
ME: (Snort. Groan. Slobber.) What?
EMMA: Mommy, can you tickle my back?
ME: No.

See, I told you!

ME: Where's Bubbles?
EMMA: Eating Goldfish.
ME: Where?
EMMA: In the bag?
ME: Don't put Bubbles in the Goldfish bag.
EMMA: Why?
ME: She might poop on them.
EMMA: I don't care.
ME: Well, do you want to eat goldfish covered in hamster poop?
EMMA: Maybe. I don't know.

Bubbles

After two spectacular weeks at the beach, we came home last night, relaxed, went to bed, and woke up this morning blissfully unaware of what the morning would bring. Lucky me was going to get the morning "off" because my husband is visiting and was going to take the kids to have breakfast at the ILs.


Unfortunately, the shoes were not beside (or in) the cages and, for that matter, neither were the hamsters. After spinning around to pin both children in my sights, I made the assessment that the only visible hamster present was "Bubbles" (the remaining baby hamster from our recent hamster stash). Bubbles was in the tender loving care of the kids, but the other two "grown-up" hamsters, Sugar and Rose, were nowhere to be seen.

The conversation went a little something like this:

ME: WHAT!?! WHERE ARE THE HAMSTERS?
SON: Um, I don't know.
DAUGHTER: Me either.
ME: Where was the last place you saw Sugar?

I am so glad I chose tonight to start family dinners back at the kitchen table. I've missed the time with my kids. Just getting to enjoy their company and hear all the cool things they have to say.

On a related note, I got to use a garbage disposal for the first time in more than 3 years.

Honestly, even though I know I haven't updated my blog in FOREVER,  I really can't believe it hasn't been longer. It has been so long, in fact, that my browser doesn't even autofill my blog when I start to type it out which makes me think I should really just rename the darn thing.

I'm starting to go through a "it's just too difficult to type phase" and a few times recently it's really irked me. Like the name "Lloyd", for example. Why, why, why, does it have to have 2 Ls? Then, that awkward "yd" construction at the end. I would be more tolerant of it if it was just spelled phonetically...Loyud. Loyud.....much better.

Which brings me to the very important, never to be ignored, parenting tip of the day: So, when naming your child spend a little extra time emphasizing phonetics and a little less time being fancy. Please. I beg of you, remember the type-factor.

Anyway, on to the update. Since we last met, life has exploded (or maybe vomited is more like it) all over the neighborhood. Right after the Wiggles...I mean, Barenaked Ladies concert, I was riding high. So what if my rented walls were crumbling asbestos dust and lead paint all over my pretty bamboo display and so what if my rented 80-year old garage door collapsed on my head or the 20 koi in my fish pond up and died in a dramatic, yet stinky, display one night. I was willing to suck it up. Never planning to move again. And, then...

Apparently I lost my mind, again, and decided to buy my animal-crazed kids (who are allergic to cats and dogs) an easy to care for pet. Hamsters. Two kids, of course, means two hamsters. And, like the sensible pet buyer, I made sure that I had two boy hamsters. (Looking back now, I think I should have just sprung for a box of animal crackers. Or two.)

Then, 3 short blissful weeks later, I am disturbed from my Facebook reverie by incessant squeaking. I ignored it for as long as I could, but finally decided that I was going to "put an end to all that racket". Upon peering in the cage, I see three pink fingers wiggling around in the cage. Once I double checked that I didn't lose a finger or three, I realized that they were, in fact, baby hamsters. What!?!?!

Today, 4 weeks later, I have finally got a final count on the actual number of hamsters we have bred. Nine! Nine little pooping, peeing, squeaking, fluffy little bundles of joy running around a cage made for one.

But back to the house...

After realizing that the house I was living in was about to collapse and that the homeowners were not interested in anything but the money they were getting for rent, I sort of, kind of entertained the idea of moving. Twenty-four hours later, I have a contract on a house. Huh?!?!? Damn hamsters.

Then, I thought, well, this would be a good time to the year long purge of my belongings. This bright idea ended up with me giving away-among other things-all of my books, winter clothes (all of them!), and winter bedding. As it is so hot right now, I can't imagine ever needing those things again. I'm now hoping for a long, hot winter.

After an elaborate moving plan, that involved hiring some teenagers, a friend who is a human dynamo, 2 trucks, and lots of plastic storage bins in a three-phase moving process, I was able to move everything to the new house with as little packing material as possible. Phases one and two was up to me (and my team of well-qualified 14 and 15-year olds...including the former governor of Virginia's lovely daughter) and phase three was up to the military.

It was going so well that I thought I might completely skip the phase of moving where I break out in to hives. Turns out, I only need to see a professional mover and smell just a whiff of a single moving box and it triggers the most horrendous allergic/stress response. Thank God I keep an excellent supply of Benedryl on hand for just about every occasion.

So we moved. Again. Two kids, 11 hamsters, myself, a case of Benedryl, and 10,000 lbs of my most important things. Damn hamsters.