hello, hello

I’m still here just, I don’t know.  Uninspired I guess?  Busy and tired and when the end of the day comes I don’t feel like writing.  I haven’t even started my Christmas newsletter which is ridiculous considering I have a photo for it that I paid for (or at least, will have to eventually pay for) and then what?

My first completed project for 2012 was the kid’s 2011 Christmas ornaments.  Hey, at least I’m predictably late but I finished them before Christmas 2012 so I WIN.  ha!

callum's penguin

claire's snowman

anna's snowman

the entire gang

The whole gang includes ornaments for other lucky kids.  I just mailed them yesterday, so you know, their mothers are going to be cursing me when they have to dig out the Christmas box to store them.  oops!

rewards

The other night some friends and I were discussing the rewards their kids get when they bring home that golden report card, and the rewards they themselves got in their youth for that report card.  Then Laura was recently talking about the idea of using stickers to encourage Miss Gwen to stay on task when she needs Gwen to, well, stay on task.  Instead of hi-jacking her blog with my (very opinionated) thoughts on the matter I thought I’d just write my own blog post about it all!  I’m all considerate like that!

(and in case there is any doubt, my friends and the lovely Laura are amazing parents.  I respect them tremendously and feel they are raising amazing children.  Let me repeat.  I do not think it makes someone a bad parent if they give their kid a sticker or a loonie or a reward for a school year well done.)

I’ve never been down with Reward-for-Good-Behaviour gig.  Even before kids I wasn’t down with it.  Even when I was a kid I wasn’t down with it.  It is something I have never been able to reconcile in my brain.  What does a reward have to do with getting an A in math?  I’m good at math.  I like math.  I want to learn math.  A sticker, a dollar, or even an “I’m so PROUD of you!” doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it.  It was about me, I wanted to be good in math.

And a sticker (or insert coveted item for appropriate age group) was never motivation enough for me to try harder in English to get an A.  I just didn’t give a shit.  I never cared if that was the proper formation of a sentence.  If what I was trying to say was clear enough that the teacher understood, then woot! Good enough.  That is all I wanted.  I was pleased with the Bs.

I feel like when I use reward-base techniques to teach my children how to behave in a situation what I am saying  to them is that the reward is the end result of all the things we do.  But what I want the end result to be is to have my children look around and do what is best for the situation, not what is best for them or what will get them some “thing”.

This is pretty high in sky, I know it.  Teaching that isn’t going to be easy.  It’s hard.  It’s tiring.  It’s irritating.  Sometimes I just want them to put their damn shoes on and get in the car ALREADY.  WHY IS THAT SO DAMN HARD?

I totally get why people want to give out a sticker or a dime.  I really, really, really get it.  And I’m no saint,  I have given out my own share of things to get them motivated.  I’ve bribed.  I’ve begged.

The big picture for me, though, is that we don’t get a “thing” for being adults that give back to our society.  If we work together and look big at what our community, our province, our country needs collectively, we get a nice place to live.  A safe place to live and work and raise our children.  We don’t get an iPad.  I don’t understand why we teach our children to want an iPad instead of that safe, secure community.  And while that may seem like a ridiculous comparison, that is what is going on in my head when I try to come to terms with the reward-based teaching idea.

That isn’t to say I don’t think that a sticker chart or a reward has a place.  I believe it to be a valuable tool to say,  track a goal – a goal that the child makes and tracks.  If that goal is to read 100 books this year, then go to town and make a poster and buy a stack of stickers.  That makes complete sense to me.  But if it is my goal to force my kid to read 100 books, well then that sticker chart loses merit in my mind.

Although  my kids could totally read a 100 books. heh.

Right now my children are young and I believe that my role in these early days is to train.  Perhaps I should say “to teach” as that sounds much lovelier, but really it is just training.  Training them to understand the real consequence of their actions.  Training to see the world beyond their own wants and desires.  In every situation the consequence of not behaving a certain way differs, but there is always a consequence.

For example: if you don’t eat your breakfast right now, you will not be eating breakfast because in 10 minutes we are going to be getting into the car.  The logical consequence to not eating breakfast is you’re hungry and pissy all day.  Tomorrow, the kid will probably eat breakfast (I have pretty easy-going kids, so it is a guarantee that tomorrow they will eat breakfast.  well, except for maybe Claire).  Do I care if my kids eat breakfast?  OF COURSE I DO.  But they will not die if they don’t eat breakfast, I am not punishing them by taking breakfast away because everyone was given the opportunity to eat and then if they chose not to, well in the long run the lesson of realizing that they are responsible for their own well-being (or will be in time as they get older) is more important than what someone else thinks when they find out my dawdling 5 year didn’t get around to eating and that is why he is lying in a puddle of tears at my feet at the end of the day.

I don’t always have a reasonable consequence at my disposable, though, and sometimes (often) am flailing around like a crazy person, but hey!  Welcome to parenting!  I am getting better at this all the time and there are certainly non-negotiable points in every situation.  It comes down to three things – Is it safe for my child?  Is it safe to me and others?  Is it safe to the environment?  The consequences fall out of that.  Usually.  I still have a really hard time diffusing the crazies.  You know the crazies?  When the kids are having a blast but they are being annoying and insane and over the top?  And running away from you laughing like complete lunatics?

No?  Your kids don’t do that?

huh.

More than anything, though, I feel like when we start dolling out rewards to get the behaviour we want, it is really easy to slip into a situation where you stop listening.  Really listening.  At least, I believe this to be true for me.  Instead of realizing that Claire is digging her heals because she’s hungry and needs a snack, I bribe her with something to get my way (which might be for a completely valid and necessary reason) and then I have allowed for a real need of hers not to be met.  Sometimes the behaviour is a cry to be heard, or a cry for some attention, or love, or understanding but they can push that aside in the interest of getting the coveted ”thing”.  At least for a moment.  After that moment, though, the need is still there, I’m all out stickers and I’ve got three kids losing their marbles with no end in sight…

beauty

A friend of mine is now selling arbonne.  For those not in the know, it’s cosemetics and creams and the like.  It’s supposedly good stuff, I’ve heard good things about it, at any rate this post isn’t a review of the products so its neither here nor there.

I am not a home-party or network party person.  In fact, it is unlikely I’ll even go to a home party unless 1. you’re a REALLY good friend, or 2. actually, there is no second point.  I don’t do home parties.

However, she’s a REALLY good friend, so I said I’d attend one party.  And I did.  It seems like lovely cosemetics.

During the “presentation” the head lady (top of network food chain?) talked about two skin care lines.  The one and only cosemetic I buy is face cream, so I’m willing to buy that from my friend instead of the store.  At least once anyway.  I questioned the difference between the two lines and was told that one was for 23 and younger, and the anti-aging line was for the 23 and older crowd.

Seriously?  We’re suppose to worry about aging at 23?  SERIOUSLY.  AT TWENTY THREE?

I don’t know about you, but when I was 23, I was hot.  Smokin’.  I also looked like I was 16.  When I was 23 I was thinking about my career.  I was thinking about my next big trip.  I was thinking about the rest of my life.  I can guarantee you I was not thinking about those wrinkles and sagging eyelids and grey hair.  BECAUSE I DIDN’T HAVE ANY.

A young man, at 23, is going through his last growth spurt.  A GROWTH SPURT.  Why is it that a woman is considered to be aging at 23?

Our society is so very, very weird.

The other day my Mom said to Claire “you’re beautiful” and Claire said “I’m not beautiful.  Everyone else is beautiful.”.  I’m not going to over-analyse this because I have no idea what she meant by it.  She might have just meant that she’s smart.  Or a super hero.  Or cute.  Who knows.  She’s 3.  But a part of me did wonder if a 3 year old would pick up on this shit?  Do they start to feel like they’re not something.  Do they start thinking that their looks are the end all and be all and that they are suppose to look like a damn mermaid in a coconut bra?

Do I have a point?  I don’t know.  I just know that I spent my childhood, and my 20s, thinking I was gorgeous, and that didn’t matter because more importantly I was clever.  And capable.  I hope and pray that my daughters will also spend their childhood and young adult life thinking the same thing.

I sure the hell didn’t think I was aging when I was 23 and felt I needed to take action.

To end this random tirade, a conversation with Claire:

Claire: When I’m in Kindergarten I’m going to be Wonder Woman for Black and Orange Day.

Me: Not say, Batman?

Claire: No.  Batman is Wonder Woman’s assistant.

Yo go girl!  (and ps: You’re beautiful.).

wordless wednesday::hallow’s eve

hallow's eve

me time.

Steve and I are were chatting the other day and he casually said something like “well, we both get the same amount of downtime every day” to which I snorted. Or maybe said “ha!”. The conversation went something like this:

Steve: “What? We do.”
Me: “yeah, no. We don’t.”
“Once the kids are in bed, it’s our time”
“Once the kids are in bed, I am still folding laundry, tidying the house, doing dishes, etc, etc. I’m still working.”
“well, you need to make more me time.”
“True.”

And that is true. I am terrible at demanding Amber time. Then I started to think about it, really think about it. In that same conversation Steve mentioned how I had skipped several boxercise classes (my current exercise of choice) indicating that I needed to make that me time a priority. Right. I shouldn’t skip my exercise times, I absolutely agree 100%. Except you know what? The first one that I missed was because Steve forgot. I was ready to go, I had dinner on the table, had pre-washed every dish I could pre-wash. The house was clean*, but he didn’t walk through the door until after 6 and you can’t really show up half an hour late to boxercise class. I mean, you could, but then there’s no warm up and you’re in the middle of the routine and I’m not a show up in the middle kind of person. At least not to an exercise class. If it were a wine-drinking class then sure! I’d be late. To be honest I show up to everything late but an exercise classes. I called him the next day and made him put my boxercise class in his calendar, which he did.

The other two times? Anna was sick. Not just your run-of-the-mill the kid has a cold. No. Anna was super sick. She slept terribly for 8 straight nights. By that I mean I have been up in the middle of the night for hours. Two Saturdays ago she was basically glued to me and completely miserable. She wouldn’t sleep unless she was draped across my chest, she was croupy and was having a hell of a time breathing. By Tuesday night I was so damn tired and worn out that the thought of even putting on my running shoes just about made me cry.

So while I hadn’t been to the class in a while, I don’t think that makes me lazy.

This got me thinking about it all a little more. Exercise, for someone like Steve and many others, is meditative. It is stress relief, it might even be truthful to say that Steve looks forward to it. He has considerately arranged his schedule so that it has very little impact on my life which I appreciate tremendously. When he’s training heavily he is gone Thursday evenings and Sunday mornings, the rest of the training he does during his lunch hour. I give him a gold star for this (that isn’t sarcastic; I really do think it’s awesome that he has done that). But his training schedule doesn’t come with a consequence, mine does.

When I go to boxercise, I don’t come home, hit the shower, pour a bowl of cereal, and tell Steve about my day. I often come home and put a child to bed. Then I do the dishes. Then I tidy up the living room. Then I sweep the kitchen. Then I have a shower (if I’m quick enough and it is before Steve goes to bed). Even to get to boxercise I first have to time it so that dinner is ready and on the table and that I have all my shit together to walk out the door.

To which one might respond “so what?”. Right. I’m prepping to go work out while doing my day job. I work out to come home and finish up everything that isn’t maintained while I’m not at my day job.

And I’m doing all that to go out and do something that I don’t particularly enjoy. Exercise is not meditative to me. Exercise is just one more damn item on the “to do” list. Something I’m supposed to do because I’m supposed to be perfect. I’m supposed to be thinner, stronger, healthier (well, healthier is a solid reason). I’m supposed to have sweet kids, a clean(ish) house, figure out a way to provide some income, keep my kids safe, and GOD DAMMIT, I also need to be thinner.

Exericise is not meditative for me. Knitting is. When I’m moving heaven and earth to make this happen I would so rather sit on the couch and knit. Or create something new. Or draw. Exercise is work, both physically and mentally. It’s annoying.

So, yeah, I’m probably not going to move mountains to ensure that no matter what I get in that sort of “me” time, because it isn’t “me time”. It’s just another asterick on the to do list.

Although I might start moving heaven and earth to get in a little knittin’.

doesn't have a damn thing to do with this post, but here's Callum's cake. Cute, yes?

*it should be noted that Steve cares NOT AT ALL if the house is clean. I care. Actually, I don’t care if it’s clean. I care if its tidy. If I don’t pick up after our day I find that 1. things get out of hand remarkably fast, and 2. it prevents us from doing creative things. Clutter discourages creativity.