How can two kids from the same gene pool be so different? I know that my brothers and I were all from the same gene pool, but were we really this different? Kids never cease to amaze me, confuse me  and enlighten me, usually all at the same time.

My kids and I have a routine each morning. They wake themselves up, shower, get ready, make breakfast, make their lunch, collect their back packs  and are prepared to be out the door by 7:00 am. At least that is how the routine is suppose to play out. For the most part it usually works this way. That is as long as Jack chooses to participate in the routine.

Michaela has never had a problem with our routine. I am not sure if it is because she is a girl, or that she loves to please but whatever the reason I am happy that she is on top of it. Her beloved brother Jack is just the opposite. When Michaela is finishing breakfast and stuffing books in her backpack Jack is hitting the snooze button  for the 14th time. I really never knew that you could hit your snooze button so many times. I figured that after the first 4 snoozes the alarm just says “To hell with it, I’m done” and turns itself off. Obviously Jacks alarm does not work this way. Continue reading »

 

We just had August’s 2 year “Well Baby” doctor’s appointment yesterday.

He is in the 25th percentile for weight, and 50th percentile for height. He’s been holding there for a while now. When he was born, he wasn’t a very big baby. At his 3 month appointment, he was in the 5th percentile for weight, and 10th percentile for height. He started making the jumps by his 6 month appointment. Early on, it was a pretty big concern for me. Now though, I’m totally fine with it.

It is a far cry from where I was at as a child. I was born at 11 lbs 1 oz, and 22” or 23” long. By my 1st birthday, I weighed 33 lbs. Needless to say. I don’t think that ever in my entire life have I been below the 100th percentile. I am currently 6’ 7” / 260 lbs.

August’s height is something that I have absolutely zero control over. His weight is something I have a little control over, on that he not be too underweight, or overweight though. In all reality, while I have no complaints about my height, I wouldn’t wish it on him one bit. Unless of course, he is destined to be a NBA Power Forward, or a NFL Tight End. Continue reading »

 

Being the sensitive, empathetic spirit I am, I pay a lot of attention to how people feel.  It really bothers me when someone feels bad, especially about themselves.  Yes, I’m one of those that sometimes cries when I hear of bad things happening to good people.  Especially children.  The cheerleader in me just always wants to make them feel better.  And the nurturing and motherly side of me wants  to protect them from experiencing negative thoughts and formulating opinions about themselves that are simply not true.  And many times, it works.  But lately, I’ve had some life lessons that have shown me that it’s ok to feel for others and have compassion for what they are going through, but to not take on their stuff and feel responsible for doing something about it.  This has been presenting itself a lot lately with my daughter Paris.

Most of the time, I’m pretty aware and attentive to her feelings.  I want to talk about them and give words to her feelings right away in an effort to avoid any inaccurate beliefs from embedding themselves on a cellular level.  I find myself getting into pretty meaningful conversations with her about her experiences and her feelings attached to them.  When she says, for example, someone at school did something to upset her, I’ve learned to ask her how she feels about it.  What I’ve discovered in doing that, is sometimes her interpretation is not what I thought it would be.  Sometimes, I’m giving it more weight than she is.  And sometimes, I can just tell what her feelings are and I give her the words to describe them.  She’s been saying the word frustrated since she was two.  And it was so cute too.  Ya know how when your kids say words incorrectly and you know you need to correct them but you let it go for a little while because it’s just so darn cute to hear them say it the wrong way?  She still says precept instead of except.  I’ve corrected many times but this one she holds on to.  Strong willed little red headed fire cracker.  I have no idea where she gets that from. :)

But lately, I am finding that I’m having to address her emotions a lot.  And I’m wondering if my technique is back firing on me.  If maybe, I have overly concerned myself with her emotions and have taken too much responsibility for them that it is actually doing more harm then good.  One of my biggest worries is doing something or saying something that will damage her forever in a way that I never intended and she will harbor some deep seeded resentment and anger for me that she will have to spend years in therapy attempting to get over.   So I figure the more we can talk about her feelings and work with them, she increases her chances of living a happy and healthy life.   But how much is too much? Continue reading »

 

“Do you think I’m fat?”.

Has your child ever asked you this question?

If so, did you feel prepared to answer?

Many parents don’t feel prepared.  It’s a tough topic, and often times we’re not sure how to address it.

I got very clear to this last night when it came up in my own family. Continue reading »

 

Taking a Lesson Learned in The Business World to Parenting
Posted by PatrickTalley

…i work in the energy sector…this year has been tough economically for that sector…

…it has caused many companies to shift attention from previous objectives…when the economy is going great guns and all is flush—companies have a tendancy to focus on what is urgent as opposed to what is most important…

…sort of a “make hay while the sun shines”… Continue reading »

 

“Daddy, I want a light saber.”

“Okay Brennan, I promise we can get one before we leave.”

This started at about 3pm while we were at Disney last weekend.  I heard it again at 4pm and again at 5pm, and it didn’t stop there. Continue reading »

 

Paris told me that she has her first confession she needs to attend next week at her school which is a catholic school.  And she said, “But I don’t know what I’m going to confess.”  And then all the memories of my early church going days flooded back.  My mother use to take me and my two sisters to catholic church every Sunday.

I have four memories of that time.  The first one is how me and my sister, to pass the time away, would play a game.  And the game was see who could make the bread (ya know that little wafer thing which represents the body of christ) last the longest in our mouths.  Being the competitive spirit that I am, I took this game very seriously.   The second is how I use to really want to drink the wine from the cup.  I thought it wasn’t fair that only the adults got to drink it.  Third is when my sister and I were going to do our communion, dressed to the nines in our custom little white dresses made by my mom.  My sister and her friend who was also going to communion got into a gnarly cat fight.  I think we were all of about maybe 8 and 9 years old.  I don’t remember the fight, but somehow I recall a small memory of veils getting ripped off heads.  My sister is like a roller derby girl.  Not one to be messed with for sure.  And the fourth was freggin confession.

I hated confession.  My sister and I use to stand in line and argue who had to go first.  I felt like I was standing in line at the gallows ready to be hung with the catholic guilt rope.  And then I got in that little booth.  Is it just me or does anyone else find it totally creepy that a young child is made to go into a dark booth with some strange man on the other side who you can’t see his face but only hear his voice and you have to talk about how “bad” you’ve been?  Who came up with this nonsense?  Maybe for some it was a cathartic experience, but for me and my sister it was torture.  So there I am, “Bless me father for I have sinned.”  I recall that a lot of my sins were about swearing.  I had a thing (ok, I confess I still have a thing but I’m working on it) for swearing. Continue reading »