When Helping Isn’t Helping

One of my family’s favorite torments stories about me is about my independence at an early age.  As the youngest of six, I became pretty self-sufficient quickly — although my parents would say it was a personality trait from birth.  One evening, at five years old, I apparently announced to my mother that I was going to bed and promptly went upstairs.  She asked if I needed her to tuck me in.  I simply said no, good-night, and off I went — my mom cried.

So it was hard for me to fathom that the kindergartner teachers at The Snake’s school needed to send home a SECOND notice regarding student responsibility and the drop-off.  The letter admonished parents that they will no longer be permitted in the classroom to administer reminders and kisses.  It instructed them on the importance of having their child unpack their homework from their backpack themselves, hang up their things on their own, etc.  It emphasized how critical this was for attaining competence for first grade.

Like “a valentine for every classmate”, I was surprised this needed to be pointed out to parents.  Coming from a large, working-class family we always needed to pull our own weight and take care of things for ourselves.  Adam and I expect no less from our kids.  We’ve already discussed the importance of a strong work ethic, chores, summer jobs, and such.

I don’t know that parents today intend to handicap their child or cheat them of opportunities to learn these lessons.  I wonder if as we become a more diasporas society whether the nurturing relationship with a child becomes amplified.  I know I’m disappointed there will be lessons my children miss out on because our extended family is distant.  But I know that I still need to push them forward into life.  I think it is harder for us to learn when to step back than it is for our children to step up.

It is very easy to fall into the trap of doing things for a preschooler or kindergartner.  I’ve done it.  Especially since The Snake struggles still with some fine motor tasks.  It is much easier, and quicker, to button up his pants for him, then wait and watch him fight to accomplish such things. 

Don’t be mistaken, I am very glad that The Snake attends a school where the parents are so involved and attentive to their children — it has been wonderful.  But it is interesting to watch some families’ approach to bringing their kindergartner to school.  Many find themselves running late, so they put the lunch away or hang up the book bag.  Or other kids are lucky enough to have both parents escort them to school.  (That’s great, although I have to admit that were Adam available to take The Snake to school, I would be home sleeping blogging cleaning the house.)  They all seem like such little things at the time.

I guess the thing we all need to realize is something smart I heard a kindergarten teacher say once, Five-year-olds can do a lot more than you think.

Eye Do (over)

So I posted a few days ago in response to Niobe’s eye color post.  I took that photo early in the morning with poor light and my laptop.  Not the best quality.  So I wanted to try again.  Here’s the result:

My brows are unruly no matter what I do, and this shows the fleck of brown I have and more of the grey colors.

Since others have also compared their eye color to their kids, I thought I’d show the fruit babies’ and The Snake’s eyes (can’t get Adam since he is out of town).

The Snake – start blue as a baby, but became a bit more grey like mine, but he has Daddy’s dark long lashes.

Plum — deep dark ringed blue eyes, much like his grandpa, dark lashes like Daddy.

Peaches — incredible ice blue streaks like her grandma, and strawberry lashes and brows from who knows where.

Star Search

I’d like to think I’m loved for my witty reparte on childrearing and such, but based on my recent hits and comments, apparently you are all slaves to the pop culture buzz.  So, while I’m no celebrity columnist, I thought I’d fill you in on our brushes with the famous, and sometimes infamous.

While we have made several trips to the local farmer’s market, we have yet to see Adam’s secret love.  Turns out that despite rumors of her frequenting said market, there are many different locations across town on different days.  Bummer for him.

Other than my contact with the lovely Ms. Cross, sadly I’ve only had one other major sighting.  He was a former action star, now mostly found hanging out with Dr. Drew.  Caught him smokin’ a stogie while hanging out at the beach with some trashy fake lovely blonde.

The real jackpot recipient of celebrity hits was my brother E, who came to visit right around this year’s Golden Globes.  First, while crossing the bike path to the beach, he was nearly mowed down by Ms. Witherspoon’s beau.  While I missed seeing his face, I did catch the flip side and agreed it certainly could have been him.  Then while cruising the boutique district in town, he was nearly plowed down by the octo-mom’s idol.  She was exiting the bank’s alley and being a staunch New Yorker, my brother stopped to let the Porsche Cayenne pass.  Typical Cali style, she had stopped for him.  So he got a good look.  He waved her past and then resumed breathing.  So his visit was smashing.

Adam has seen one or two celebs or their family pass though the halls of the hospital, but per HIPPA instuctions can not reveal.  I too have seen one or two character actors around The Snake’s school, but frustratingly can’t come up with their names.  Brain cell death due to pregnancies and sleep deprivation I’m afraid.

So, that’s the sum of our brushes with the stars.  Oh, except a high school class mate who was on Dawson’s Creek, but I haven’t seen him in years.  How ’bout you?  What stardust have you been touched by?

MomSprung Special

Here I sit with Barbara WaWa on after the Oscars, and I thought — Hey, I’m cool enough to be interviewed!  MomSprung, a fellow SAHM, twin wrangler has asked me to be in her special.  So here are the answers to her questions.  I’ll try not to cry.

Ok, spill it, how did you meet your husband? And NO it’s not bad that you hooked up!

Well, my husband was a collegiate gymnast.  And I was roommates with a girl on the ladies’ gymnastic team.  Thus, we had a party and he was there.  The interesting part is how we got together.  See that semester I was hotly pursuing my journalistic career, and was the editor-in-chief of the university daily rag.  To satisfy my geeky bent, I was also studying biology.  That term I was required to take Physics 101, which was the upper level course, same as for physics majors.  Not exactly fun.  And well, I wasn’t exactly attending all the recitations required.  I had an upcoming quiz and recognized that future DH was also stuck in said physics torture.  So, well, I cornered him to see if he had already taken the quiz in an earlier session.  Indeed he had!  Score!  So I pressed for pointers.

Later, my roommate pointed out that the male gymnast seemed interested.  Dopey me hadn’t noticed.  He was a typical Canadian — polite and a touch shy.  So I tried to make things easy.  We wound up talking the night away.  We were pretty much inseparable every weekend thereafter.  That was 16+ years ago.

So, it wasn’t exactly our eyes meeting across a crowded room.  More like I spied an easy out for my procrastination.  Sometime, I’ll tell you the romantic story of how I kept him from getting deported.

How did the Snake get his name?

Mostly because snake rhymes with his given name.  And he certainly can be a little devil in disguise.

Give us some more deets about your twin commiseration with Marcia Cross.

The lovely Ms. Cross apparently frequented our local playground.  One afternoon, in typical twin status — no make up, sort-of combed hair — I headed to said playground.  It was a Saturday and a bit more crowded than usual.  I noticed a few photographers hovering around the periphery.  I kept trying to see who they were hoping to catch but couldn’t figure it out.  Finally, I saw flame red hair hanging down out of a navy canvas bucket hat.  Ding!  I figured it out.  Then I was able to pick out her husband and twin girls from the crowd.

It was funny, once I realized it was her, it seemed her little girl spied me.  I was there with The Snake and the twins in a handy snap-n-go stroller.  Once her little girl saw the double stroller, she headed right for us.  Marcia came right behind her.  She was so nice and very relaxed.  She said her daughter loved seeing babies, especially twins.  She complemented me on how beautiful they were and asked about their ages.  At the time they had only been home a month or so.  We chatted about the NICU and such.

Her daughter kept reaching out for Peaches, and her mom kept telling her not to touch.  Finally, she couldn’t hold her back and she pinched little Peaches on the cheek.  It was cute but she was embarrassed.  I assured her it was fine.  And that was it.  Much like meeting any other fellow twin mom.  Except my heart was pounding after! 

How much harder have twins been than having one baby? Have there been any points yet where you think it might be (or get) easier?

I think I’m lucky these are not my first.  I was so neurotic with The Snake.  Since it is the second time around, that helps a lot.  I don’t stress about them crying as much.  But having an older child definitely is tough.  Today Adam took him to a baseball game and it was so much easier having just the twins.  Although one mom of twins told me that was all they ever knew, so they didn’t realize that one would be easier.

I definitely think it has been a lot better since they’ve been around 6-8 months, which is really 4-6 months age adjusted for their prematurity.  I’m starting to think it is going to get harder though when the crawling begins.  I’m also dreading when they are out of the infant car seats, cause that is going to make getting around super hard.  I’m lucky that I’m in a more urban, walkable neighborhood right now, so that makes some things more simple.

What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done? I’m thinking bungee jumping, skydiving, etc. but you can interpret it any way you want.

Tried to sell my house and move to SoCal while 7 months pregant with twins.  It didn’t go so smoothly.

Do you have a “usual” cocktail? If so, what is it?

At that newspaper in college we used to hang out in the darkroom and do shots of tequila in the little plastic containers the film comes in.  Do you think that might have anything to do with my fertility problems?

Now I like a good glass of red wine.

Well, I’m no Bawbwa WaWa, but if you’d like to be interviewed I’m happy to give it a try.  Drop me an email or comment.

The Eyes Have It

Because Niobe asked, and Magpie asked her … I’m showing you my eye(s).  I’m not sure what color to call them either.  My driver’s license says blue, but I think they are often grey-green.  It all depends on what I wear and the light.

What color are yours?  Tell me or post your own, leave your link here or with Niobe.

I was up with both babies last night, can you tell?  Ugh, look at those bags and blood shot eyes.

Pint of Patience

Do you know where I can buy some patience?  ‘Cause I’m all OUT.

The Snake is doing better, but still not back to his normal self.  He went to school yesterday, and his teacher said he was perky and great.  Then I pick him up.  And he whines.  And complains.  And looks pitiful.  I know the surgeon said kids wax and wane in their recovery.  But it isn’t easy.

Top it off that next week is a big, big, big week.  Did I mention that it’s BIG?  So I’m a tad anxious.  Adam goes to the big annual conference for his speciality, and he has a bunch of look-see interviews set up with potential jobs.  Basically he will be exploring our future.  Basically I might know where we might be headed in a week.  Basically I’m a basket case.

Having your life be determined by others sucks.  I know others are facing this.  I know we are not the first doctor-family to bounce around.  But I grew up and lived in the same region nearly my entire life.  Contemplating the possibility of living in a totally unknown place is a bit nerve-wrecking racking.  At this point in my life, I’m really starving to have roots and establish relationships.

Well, I suppose since I can’t seem to find the closest patience-mart, I’ll have to solve the problem as I did yesterday.  Red wine.  Lots. (don’t worry, after the kiddies go to bed)