Flat

***Note to self: Never mention things like "I've never changed a tire." or "I don't know how to find the spare." to my husband. This will lead to lots of sweat, dirt and sore arms.***

As we were leaving the lake this past weekend, Connie mentioned I should check our right rear tire. I didn't think much of it and we drove the hour home with no problems. Not long after that I headed to the store for dinner and made it back safely. Only a few hours later the tire was most definitely flat.

Yes, I had mentioned in the last month or so to Tim that I had never changed a flat tire. Yes, I knew it would probably come back to bite me.

Still, I never imagined I would be changing a tire in my driveway with an audience. (Thanks for the commentary Tim and Jake!)

I actually did it all myself. I jacked up the car, removed the old tire, and installed the spare. All while Tim and Jake drank their beers and took pictures.

I'm really glad I had the opportunity to learn how to do this in a safe environment with no kids screaming from the car or any place to be. Tim and Jake were actually helpful and didn't make a ton of fun of me. (Yes! The 4-way is a great tool! I'll remember that next time.)

Hopefully this will be the last tire I have to change for a good long time.

The Chore Jar

The idea of an allowance is not something I'm completely knowledgeable about since my brother and I never received one. That's not to say we never got anything or never did any chores, just that we didn't have a set amount of money given to us every week. It wasn't something that bothered me, at least that I can remember. Tim and I have bounced ideas around about what we want to do with Brenden and Lauren and recently, after a trip to the store when Brenden asked us for money to buy something, we decided on a Chore Jar. It was inspired by something I read awhile ago on my friend Heather's blog where she rewarded her daughter for good behavior as well as chores, not on a weekly basis, but on a day to day basis.

Our new backyard isn't huge and our two little dogs can make a lot of messes in a small amount of time. Tim wanted to clean it up and offered Brenden the chance to earn $1.00 if he helped. Brenden was beyond excited. In the middle of scooping up dog poo, he squealed, "I'm gonna get LOTS of dollars!" When we reminded him that it was only one dollar this time his face fell, his arms dropped, and he told us he was done. Poor, spoiled rotten kid. :) With a little encouragement he finished the job and was extremely happy to deposit his first dollar bill.

He's rich!

He hasn't completed any chores since then (*light bulb!* Guess who will be helping me clean tomorrow!) but he's still earning quarters every day when I notice that he's doing something without being reminded (throwing away trash, picking up dirty clothes, taking a nap without a fight, etc.) or being especially kind (including Lauren when he plays or making her laugh when she's upset). I try not to bribe him with it, although I've definitely resorted to that when it comes to getting him dressed. Instead, I try to catch him doing different things on his own and then using that quarter as a pat on the back for just being his awesome self.

I'm not sure how long we will keep this up or if he'll even care about it next week. For now, the joy on his face when he realizes that he did something well is absolutely worth every cent.

Dear Doctor...

Dear Dr. [name redacted because I'm not that mean]:

It's been more than a year that you and I have been trying to solve my issues. It's been a long, painful, arduous journey that has effected several aspects of my life. I've done everything you've asked me to. Been to many appointments, tried all the remedies you've required, and even endured surgery, only to be left in pain.

I've felt as though you have not really listened to me when I explained my situation. I know that you blatantly ignored something that I asked you to address, actually telling me that you believed it was "much better now" after you "fixed" it. (I don't believe that for a second.) Many times you acted as though you were grasping at straws, just trying to placate me and expecting me to deal with it since I was just the dumb patient and you were the all powerful doctor. You never really seemed to know what you were doing and more than once caused me pain that I know was unnecessary.

And so, when I decided to seek a second opinion, I didn't think you'd be surprised. After all I have done, with very little relief, why would I continue to see you? I'm pretty sure it was Einstein that said "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is the definition of insanity." Guess what, I'm not insane. (Although I will admit that I do have my crazy moments.)

So I asked my primary care physician for a referral. That very first appointment, without any prompting from me, the new doctor told me what he believed was my problem, which is exactly what I had been saying all along. Do I expect him to be able to fix all that I believe you screwed up? No. But I do expect to be in a lot less pain.

I find it ridiculous that your nurse called me to make me feel bad for seeing another doctor. I have no contract with you, verbal or otherwise, that says I have to continue to go to your office. I had no idea that this other doctor was in your "call group" or that they needed to call you before I had my first appointment. I told them that I had been your patient and, the last time I checked, I'm not his secretary. Yes, it may be awkward to run into you after this, but I'd rather take that slight risk if it means I could no longer be in pain.

If I felt any hesitation before today about seeking a second opinion, it is most definitely gone now. I'm very happy that I trusted my instincts and made a choice that I believe will help me. Could I be wrong? Of course. But I will no longer have to continue seeing a doctor who I do not trust and have lost respect for.

I'm doing what is right for me, and that is all you should be concerned with now.

Sincerely,

Amanda, a very unhappy patient

Unavoidable

I know I've mentioned Brenden's aggression issues a time or two. It's something that we've been working on for quite a while, and we have had some success with focusing on positive reinforcement and a rewards system. I don't think his behavior is extreme. I think it's mostly his age, testing his boundaries, pushing for independence, and learning to voice his frustration.

So it's no surprise that our stomachs dropped yesterday when his swimming instructor came over to us and said, "There was an, um....incident today."

Our first thought was, "Oh no. Brenden has done something so awful that he won't be allowed back." Although I'm sure if that was the case then they would have come to get one of us before the lesson had finished.

"Did Brenden do something to someone?" I sputtered back to her.

"Oh no! Not him." she replied. "Hold on, I think I see the other little boy."

We had to stand there awkwardly as the little boy, who I know clawed at Brenden's face the second day of classes, walked past us with his mom. I'm not sure what that boy has against my son, but they just don't mesh well.

After a quick sigh of relief, she explained that the other little boy got angry when Brenden tried to hold onto the back of his life jacket, which is what they do to stay in line. Brenden was only following directions, but this little kid was not happy about it. He turned around and punched Brenden right in the face.

At this point, my mouth was hanging open.

Brenden never cried, never complained to us about the "incident", didn't even seem to remember it happening. He was so excited about wearing a life jacket and being able to jump into the pool and swim on his own that nothing was going to ruin his day.

After confirming that the instructor had already talked to the other mom, we felt comfortable that everything that needed to be done had been done. She did say that she planned on keeping them apart if she could, but that's hard to do in a class full of 3 and 4 year olds. We only have one more day so I'm not terribly worried.

I feel bad now that my main concern was making sure Brenden hadn't misbehaved, instead of worrying about his well being. However, I know him and I know if he was hurt then that would have been the very first thing he said to me and not, "Mommy, I wore a life jacket!"

Just another reminder that one of the most difficult things we have to face as parents is letting our kids go out into the world. To let them be hurt, literally and figuratively. To let them cause hurt, unintentionally or on purpose, and hope that we have taught them to do everything they can to make it right. To let them make mistakes and learn from those mistakes.

Knowing that Brenden shrugged this off, that he didn't retaliate or let it dampen his enthusiasm for his swimming class makes me feel like we're on the right track. Now to figure out how to keep on chugging.

Bad Mommy Moments

Bad mommy moments are a part of life, and I've come to accept that I have my shortcomings when it comes to being a parent. That doesn't mean I like it, but I know that I'm not perfect and that I'm constantly learning. I think it's a good thing that I can realize that I've done something wrong and try to fix it. Every time I lose my cool, every time I react badly or just don't have the patience to be the mom that I want to be, I know that I have the chance to say I'm sorry and not repeat my actions.

Today I had a really bad mommy moment. Brenden and Lauren were playing in his room and I ran into Lauren's room to throw something away in her trashcan. When I walked back in I saw Brenden laying on his bed with Lauren in front of him standing on the floor. He had a hold of her hands and shoved as hard as he could to make her fall down. All I could think about was that her head was going to hit the corner of his cabinet. I jumped over the bed to grab her and on the way I smacked Brenden's leg. I wasn't even thinking about it. We don't spank or smack his hands so I'm not sure why that was my first instinct. I immediately felt terrible. He was totally shocked, too.

While I tended to Lauren I sent Brenden to time out. When he was done I asked him what he had done wrong and made him apologize to us. Then, I explained that I should not have hit him and that I was going to go in time out, too. He told me when to come out and I apologized and said I wouldn't do it again.

Apologizing to him is much easier than I thought it would be. I'm hoping it teaches him that even though he may make some bad decisions, an apology goes a long way, as well as making sure that the bad behavior changes. I know it will also teach him that his mommy isn't perfect, that I'm going to make mistakes, but that I'm doing my best.

Now I just have to forgive myself for doing something that I said I never wanted to do. It's so much easier for me to forgive other people. There's one more thing I can work on.

Who Knew

I remember the parent I was when Brenden was 9 months old. I was constantly worried about where he was, what he was doing, and whether he was on his schedule. He was fed every 2 hours, he took a nap at specific times (which means we missed out on some fun things), and we always knew what to expect. Was it strict for everyone? Yes. Did we do just fine? Absolutely. He thrived and grew and I'm pretty sure he hasn't suffered any negative effects from it. Was it perfect? Of course not. But I'm one of those people that believes there is never a perfect way to parent. We're all just limping along, doing the best that we know how.

The other day I realized that I am no where near the same parent I was then. I was sitting on the floor, watching Lauren crawl towards the sliding glass doors, impressed by the fact that the vertical blinds entertained her. She banged on the glass, checked out the floor vent, and then realized there was a balloon under the table. She squealed with delight and took off after it, grabbing it with both hands and gnawing on it like it was a big old apple. Suddenly, she remembered the dog food in the kitchen and she was off, which was my cue to go after her to save the dogs from starving.

"And...?" you're probably thinking. There is nothing surprising about her actions. She's a baby that is learning and exploring her surroundings. The change is me. Brenden would have neverbeen near those sliding glass doors. I'm not sure what would have scared me so much since they don't open on their own. He would have never ever been allowed to play with a balloon, much less chew on it. What if it popped and little pieces were all over the floor? What if he ate some of it? (Like he would have been thinking about eating anything after having a balloon pop in his face.)

Then, that night, Tim came home to talk about the budget with me. He had a piece of paper and a pen, and made the mistake of sitting on the floor, which is Lauren's domain. Within moments she was climbing all over him, intent on looking at the new "toys" he had brought her. It's amazing how difficult it is to juggle three small things like a piece of paper, a pen and a baby. Eventually, he gave up and let her happily crunch and chew on the paper, which entertained her for about 8 seconds. Did he give her one of the 384 toys that we have laying around? Of course not. He gave her THE PEN. Yes, my husband handed our 9 month old a pen, which she used to try to draw herself a goatee like her grandpa. (Which was hilarious!) I thought for sure he would take it from her after that, but no. He simply clicked it closed and handed it right back. And I thought he was the "strict" one.

The main difference between us then and us now is how we stress about the little things. Is Lauren allowed to do anything and everything she wants? No, but we aren't following her everywhere, worrying about what trouble she might get in to. Do we sit behind her, carefully making sure she never falls? No. We aren't watching her get hurt, but we aren't keeping her from trying out her new balance or the ability to sit from standing. Do I write down every little thing that needs to be done when we leave her with someone? Heck no. Anyone I leave her with is someone that I know will take great care of her, and Brenden, too. They won't follow every rule, and things will be done differently, but it won't bother me one bit. As long and they come back happy, healthy and in one piece then that is all that matters.

However, if they come home raving about how they were allowed to drink all the pop they want, we'll definitely have a problem. I have my limits.

Hey Jealousy

The garage door opens and we can hear it from the couch. No matter what we're doing, a little expectant face looks up at me and says, "Daddy?" All other thoughts are lost after that. He wiggle-runs to the kitchen, screaming "Daddy! DADDY!!" as Tim walks in the door. He clings to Tim's legs and then jabbers at him about his day. And me? I'm forgotten.

For a long time this bothered me...a LOT. It still bothers me on certain days, especially if it's been a long day full of arguments about what a 2 year old will or won't eat, or a nap time that didn't go especially well. I'm here, everyday, making sure that Brenden makes it from point A to point B, happy and healthy. Yet, I don't get that amazing welcome...ever. I think the only time I did get that was when we were gone for 4 days on our trip to Chicago and believe me, I appreciated that one time!

Tim is so much better at playing with Brenden at night than I am playing with him during the day. Of course, I have to remind myself that he gets home at roughly 5:30 pm and Brenden's bedtime routine starts at 7:30 pm, so that's only 2 hours of playing compared to the 9 hours I get to fill during the day. I need a break sometimes and I don't think Brenden learning to play on his own is a bad thing.

The sheer joy on Brenden's face when he sees his daddy and the way that they play together has caused me many moments of jealousy, especially on those days where I just want to cry into a pillow out of sheer frustration. But I've come to a realization lately...Tim has things to be jealous of, too, although I hope he doesn't feel it like I have.

I'm the one that got to know Brenden the best, before everyone else. I knew what would help him asleep, what it meant when he would rub his head against the back of the carseat. (he was tired) I was the Brenden "expert" when I know that Tim would have loved to know exactly what was going on. I was there when he rolled over for the first time, when he said his first word, when he did so many cute and funny things. I'm the one that gets the first hug in the morning, the first giggle, and toddler kisses whenever I want. I get to snuggle with him on the couch when he feels like snuggling. I'm the interpreter, the one everyone looks to when Brenden rambles on.

How could I possibly be mad at him for getting that wonderful welcome home when I know he misses out on so much? How could I fault my son for being so happy to see his daddy when I'm just as happy to see Tim as he is? That doesn't mean I won't have the occasional twinge of jealousy as he gets those big old hugs and kisses, but having some perspective has helped. I know exactly how I'll handle it now...by giving my amazing husband and wonderful little boy some big old hugs and kisses of my own, once they settle down of course.

Daddy Love