Cling On and Drama Boy

I took my boys to a Christmas party last night which I was supposed to be helping with.  As if the boys would let me!  Calvin did his usual dramatic throw myself on the ground entrance and the Hulk wouldn't leave my side.  He liked hiding under my sweater from behind.  Fortunately 2 boys Calvin's age showed up and saved me and eventually the Hulk adjusted.  And no one was hurt.  I can understand the Hulk's clinginess given his age (4) but why does Calvin do the dramatic entrance thing whenever we enter into a big group?  Does he get overwhelmed? Does he need that much attention?  Is he just being silly?  Must look into it.  It's getting annoying.

Santa and Shut up

The Hulk has taken to saying "Shut Up!" constantly.  It's usually the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he wakes up.  I don't know where he got it from, why he keeps saying it, or how to stop him.  I've been saying "Santa Claus" in reply, hoping he'll make the connection that Santa doesn't like to hear little boys saying shut up, and Alex knows it's a bad thing to say.  But this approach hasn't stopped it yet.  I think the best solution so far has come from his older brother Calvin.  He told the Hulk to stop saying it because Santa may pass over the house all together and neither of them will get any gifts.  For goodness sake this may impact him!  I like not having to take this one on.  Go Calvin!

Christmas List

I'm terrified of Christmas this year.  My son's list has turned into a book.  It's quite impressive, really, but terrifying!  So much to explain, all based on a lie.  It's depressing me on so many points.  Santa is a lie, I have no money, but even if I did I wouldn't buy it all.  That's the intellectual side.  For the philosophical side, there's the whole issue of junk toys, people in need, get over your 7 year old all-about-me ego, etc.  The good news is the list got so big the pages came out of the staples so it's getting a bit tattered.  I think he figured out what that means.  But of course I don't want it ruined because it's a fun read.  It started out with the Walmart catalog, which he must have instinctively known was coming out that day because we went out of our way on a Saturday to get a paper.  He was so excited.  So he had 5 pages of junk toys.  Then other toy catalogs started to come in the mail.  Even though I canceled everything last year, they came anyway.  And of course he likes to check the mail everyday so he saw them first.  With each catalog the list grew, but the items changed.  Three "good" toy catalogs later, the Walmart items are down to just 2.  I'm so proud of him!  And what's even better is most of the toys are available right here in town on Main Street.  Maybe I could barter for toys???

Snow!

There is nothing I love more than watching the boys play together in the back yard.  It snowed on Friday morning and Calvin was so excited.  After breakfast he got his snow stuff on and went to play.  The Hulk caught on and followed suit.  They went up and down the hill on sleds.  The Hulk is a riot with his cast.  Nothing is going to stop that boy.  He even climbed up the rock wall with it.

Of course this lasted only about a 1/2 hour the first time around.  Calvin hit the Hulk with a snowball that went down his back so he came in crying.  By the end of the weekend, they got better at playing together and on Sunday Calvin was outside all day with his friend our neighbor and Hulk followed along for most of the day.  As far as I know, no one got hit.

Sibling Surprises

My son, the Hulk, who just turned 4, fell down the stairs the other morning and broke his wrist. This is his third major injury.  Fortunately it wasn’t as bad as when he broke his arm after catapulting out of his crib two years before.  One second he was happily bouncing in the crib and the next screaming on the floor.  The last accident was when he and his brother, Calvin, were jumping on my bed and The Hulk “fell off and bumped his head,” as the Monkey story goes, and had to get staple stitches.  Is it worse to watch your son roll down the stairs or to stand by as a staple gun shoots him in the head?  Calvin, for the record, has not had any major injuries.
 
A Facebook post from NPR that same morning titled “Siblings Share Genes, But Rarely Personalities”  got me thinking about how different my two boys are.  The first clue is that Calvin took over 30 hours to deliver, lots of drugs, and a final C-section warning to leave my womb whereas The Hulk popped right out.  Calvin was as colicky as can be for the first 6 months while The Hulk nursed his way through everything.  It’s not that I expected them to be the same when I had my second son, but I am constantly amazed at their differences.  (For the record, one thing they did have in common at birth is they both weighed over nine pounds.)

Perhaps because Calvin is the first born I paid more attention to his every move.  Not to the point where I actually wrote them down in a baby book (good intentions), but just that I was so much more aware of each rite of passage.   And of course I memorized the “What to Expect” books.  I also had more time to spend with him early on so without realizing it he may have become a study in child rearing.  We were blessed as well with excellent child care providers who supplied me with a ton of information and support.  Because it all seemed so easy I decided I wanted another a second child.

Ha!  It started out simply enough.  I had everything I needed for my new guy with all the clothes, crib, baby gear, etc.  I was also at this point an expert on nutrition, BPA, the dangers of lead, child care options, stages of growth, etc.  But ever since that first broken arm I knew this boy was going to be more of a challenge.  My “gentle giant” has wanted nothing but to be just like his big brother since the day he figured out he had one.  He started walking early, could make his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich before he could say it, and has always been so big he looks older.

Calvin started speaking with full sentences.  At the doctor’s checkup where they measure these things, he didn’t say a word until the end of the appointment and then totally shocked his pediatrician.  I had no idea that his speech was so good because I didn’t have any frame of reference.  So lucky me, one less thing to worry about.  I secretly suspected that all the reading early on was showing some benefits.  The Hulk on the other hand never really cared for books and couldn’t sit still at bedtime no matter what I tried, including buying new books that were more interactive to get him interested.  His speech is fine now, but not anywhere near where Calvin’s was at his age and not quite where one would expect him to be given his size and fine and gross motor skills.

With Calvin, it took a few good people to get him up to par by second grade.  With the Hulk, it seems to be taking a village.  When Calvin was of age to enter Kindergarten he went to the SAU Development Screening and passed without much thought.  I probably should have held him back since he’s one of the youngest in the class, but it hadn’t occurred to me at the time and he’s doing fine now.  With the Hulk, I’ve met with the SAU Pre-school screening team early on just to be sure we’re okay.  He’s so much different in his development I don’t want to take any chances.  While it’s a little disconcerting to sit down with nine professionals at once to go over the needs of a 3 year old, it’s also reassuring to know that help is available when needed.  What an amazing group of people to have access to.  And if it weren’t for the caring staff at the preschools he’s been to, I wouldn’t have know this resource is available at any time. 

Calvin has always been, overall, a well-behaved child.  A little silly, big imagination, but peace loving for the most part.  The Hulk, on the other hand, has a bit of a reputation.  He hits.  Because of his size his punch carries more weight than the average 3 year old.  It’s not that he’s a bully - I think he too is a peace loving child, but he comes across as a little more aggressive and it’s quite troubling!  With Calvin’s mishaps I’ve been able to nip the problem in the bud and move on.  With the Hulk, it’s just not working that way.  At times I feel I’ve been “blessed” with more Zen moments as I can handle.

The NPR article asks the question “Why is it that being raised in the same family pushes children in opposite directions in terms of personality?” and came up with three theories:  Divergence, Environment, and Exaggeration.  “Divergence is basically to minimize competition so it's not direct. And that leads to specialization in different niches."  In my case, Calvin is the thinker, the Hulk is the doer.  I see Calvin as an engineer and the Hulk more of an athlete.  The second theory, environment, deals with the timing of the child.  In Calvin and and the Hulk’s case, they were born in different towns and my husband and I had different jobs.  Exaggeration, the third theory, “holds that families are essentially comparison machines that greatly exaggerate even minor differences between siblings.”  An example of this is as I’ve stated before is that both boys are “peace loving,” but the Hulk has earned his nickname.

This Thanksgiving, in case there was any question, I am grateful that I have two wonderful boys who have enriched my life more than I will ever know.  And as I watch them eat turkey at the table for the two minutes they’ll sit down, I will remind myself to accept them for who they are and hope they keep surprising me.

T-day

Survived.  Not a big fan of the holidays.  I'm starting to think it could just be me.  My relatives are challenging so it's not at all fun to visit them, and otherwise there's just the four of us which can be a little too predictable.

Hate to be such a skeptic but it's a long day with watching the boys, cooking so much food that just ends up back in the frig, and bumping into my husband in the kitchen preparing it.  Number one question:  "Why are you doing it that way?"  And then the clean up.

Next year I'll find someone fun to invite over.  I'm starved for conversation.

Crazy Parties

The boys and I went to Tamworth today to pick up out 25# turkey.  It's enormous.  Calvin was barely able to carry it to the car.  The boys kept asking where all the turkeys were at the turkey farm but I had to tell the truth.  They've all been beheaded and we're going to it one on T-day.

On the way home we stopped at the Chocorua House to check on the status of the renters who should have been moved out by now.  OMG.  How can people live like that?  There was clutter everywhere.  Seriously, as if a tornado went through.  At least none of the permanent fixtures was damaged.  But I don't get it.  How can any one allow so much clutter?  And have so much junk?  When we got back in the car I made the boys promise that they would never live like that and to obey the golden rule of "Leave things better than you found them."  Calvin said okay, but asked if he could still have "crazy parties."  "Of course,"  I said.  "I'm counting on you for that.  You just have to clean up after."

Turkey From Albuqueque

Busy day.  Money making interview, Turkey Trot, and the Tday play.  Good product but not sure how it's going to be lucrative.  Turkey Trot was a riot with all the kids running around.  Calvin did pretty good.  Needs real sneakers though.  And the play was cute.  I couldn't see any of the kids but The Hulk was with me and he behaved and that's all that matters.  Not mentally ready for the next 5 days.

Moving Mirror

Alex fell down the stairs yesterday morning and broke his right wrist.  Fortunately it wasn't too bad and he'll be out of his cast in 4 weeks.  When we got home from the hospital he asked if he could have "falldown medicine that's in the moving mirror."  Translation:  Advil in the medicine cabinet.  Love that boy.

Time to End Boys will be Boys

My best friend's son is the same age as Calvin and they play together on occasion.  They're in different schools so they don't see each other too often.  A few weeks ago Calvin stayed with him for the weekend in their 2nd home up north.  The other boy also had some boy cousins visiting.  I think they were older.  When I saw Calvin on Sunday Monday morning (I too was away for the weekend) his face was all scratched and he looked very tired.  He said the friend kept wrestling with him and it wasn't much fun.

When I asked yesterday if he'd like to go back up North and we could all visit the family this weekend he said no, he doesn't want to play with the boy anymore.  "Maybe the boy could come over to our house?" he asked.  "He behaves better when he's here."

Perhaps it's time to finally tell my friend what's been on my mind for years, that her son is out of control, has no boundaries, and is far too aggressive with my boy.  Or, when I tell her we won't be coming up this weekend, I'll just tell the truth and say that Calvin doesn't want to and take it from there.  Or more than likely I'll wimp out and not say anything about the boys at all.  How awkward is this?

Junk Toys

I went to an open house yesterday at my 3 year old’s preschool and was blown away by what I saw.  My own son, aka The Hulk, was playing ever so gently with educational toys and explaining to me how they worked.  He carefully rolled out his mat, took the toy out, played with it, and then He Put it Away!  My son?!?  I’m new to the Montessori experience but I’m so sold on it now I think I should start going to classes there.  Miracles aside, one thing I noticed was that he was playing with typical household items that had been “recycled” into useful toys for children.  Items such as old purses and wallets, bottles and tins, and kitchenware. The few actual toys there were in the classroom were just basic wooden type things, such as farm animals (for agriculture) and a few cars (urban planning no doubt).  Talk about green!  I’m green with envy.  How do they do that?

For starters I’ve got a pretty well organized play room with clear boxes for the toys to go back in on reachable shelves, but I seem to be the only one who puts them back.  And of course the used toys are never in just one section of the carpet.  (Is there anything worse than the sound of a million legos getting dumped out of the container?)  Could it be that I’m not enforcing the pick-up segment of playtime?  And come to think of it might it be possible that there are so many distractions in the house at any given time when the kids are home that it would never occur to them they’re supposed to put things back?  The answer is yes!  Fortunately the Headmistress at my son’s school is willing the share her secrets with me so in a sense I am indeed going “back to school.”

The lack of fanfare in the toys at the Montessori School also got me thinking.  With the recall this week of Fisher Price products, I have to wonder why we fill our homes with plastc “junk toys.”  One mommy blogger when interviewed about the recall replied, “I’m starting to feel like maybe no toys are safe.”  With most of these processed toys, I have to agree.  The plastic is bad for the environment, the gadgets and attachments are eventually going to come loose, the need for batteries is toxic, the noise is repellent, and the quick fix aspect, which is usually the case with most overly commercialized toys, is bad for a child’s development.  We’ve all had the experience of the younger children getting a gift and just wanting to play with the box.  Imagine if someone marketed it on television and every kid asked Santa for a box for Christmas?  A toy drive for empty boxes!  Now that’s green.

Commercial plastic toys are so ingrained in our life that it’s hard to think of alternatives.  This “back to the basics” list by Alicia Daniel, field naturalist, teacher, and mother of two daughters offers these suggestions:

1) Will this toy eventually turn into dirt-i.e., could I compost it? Stones, snowmen, driftwood, and daisies-they will be gone, and we will be gone, and life goes on.
2) Do I know who made this toy? This question leads us to search for the hidden folk artist in each of us.
3) Is this toy beautiful? Have human hands bestowed an awkward grace, a uniqueness lacking in toys cranked out effortlessly by machine?
Will this toy capture a child's imagination?" 

One could go further and add: Does this gift foster my child's natural inclinations? Will it enable him to more fully engage in life? Does it help her reach her goals?

And now to reach my goal of getting the family clean and green.  I want my boys to be self sufficient, and it’s not going to help them if I’m picking up after them all the time.  So it’s back to school for me and out of the house with the junk toys.  I checked with 4 Our Kids Recycling here in town for the best way to recycle and they suggested donating them to a new organization in Tamworth called "A Stepping Stone" that assists single Moms (and they may accept some gently used items too - find them on Facebook), and of course there’s always the dump store.

Not the SAHM I Think I Am

I've been home from working full time for almost 2 months now which I suppose makes me a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM) and I'm proud to say that my house isn't any cleaner than it was before. I've only vacuumed once and the playroom is not in alphabetical order, which was my first intended nesting project and also my biggest fear. And I had this crazy notion of organizing the basement but that's not going to happen anytime soon. Not unless I need to find something to sell so I can afford this "carefree" lifestyle.

I tried economizing at the grocery store and I've managed to spend a little less on the only controllable weekly expense we have, but I had planned for better. I can give up not going out to dinner, not getting my hair done, not buying anything for anyone ever, but I can't sacrifice on the quality of our food. I'm keeping the organic products and serve more beans and less fat. Fat is actually expensive. Things like cheese, red meat, and prepackaged snacks are all now luxury items in our home. "That's what friends houses are for," I told my 7 year old son.

Ironically now that  I have the time to do more with the boys I don't have any money to pay for it. My vision of the oldest taking music lessons or other after school activities is not going to happen just yet. And I'm losing sleep over how to pay for skiing this winter. I'll find a way to make it all happen but thank goodness for hand-me-downs and lost & found departments.

Did I mention we're remodeling the house? I think it's safe to say I put the kibosh on finishing anytime soon. I don't know how my husband is doing it but little by little he works on a section of the house and actually gets things done. He's paying for it with his own slush fund which is good because if the money were in one account there's no doubt I'd spend it. And the progress is so slow it's almost hardly noticeable. We've all learned to ignore the completely stripped area of the house we hope to one day call the living room.

My biggest problem is that I'm not very good with idle time. I've worked full time all my life in sales and food service. I was always busy and had somewhere to be.   I’ve been a drop-and-go parent at school, and I'm not much for small talk unless I'm making a sale. Which isn't to say that I don't genuinely care about other people and believe me there's nothing worse then selling something to a person that they don't need or want.  But I fear that I may come across as arrogant when the truth is I'm actually kind of shy. Could it be that I’m becoming more introverted in the second part of my life?

The reality is that my website and blog consume the first 6 hours of my day so the only real change is that I pick up my kids at 3pm instead of 5pm. Oh, and that I don't have a paycheck. The bewitching hour, from 3-4 when the boys are home from school and the house is in utter chaos, is motivation for me to go back to a full time job. That and not being able to afford cocktail hour anymore. But at 4pm a calm sets in and I thank my lucky stars I don’t have to deal with office politics or race home from being on the road all day.

So I embrace this opportunity to spend more time with my kids, enjoy my natural and free surroundings, cook incredibly creative meals on a zero budget, and discover the inner adult that is struggling to come out and show my more creative, patient, and caring side.

The Language of Love

In my eternal quest for how to be a better parent I came across this book last week, The 5 Languages of Love by Gary Chapman.   What an eye-opener!  I was researching ways to get my sons to buy into a chart we’re working on.  We’ve had some issues with random hitting that you may recall from my last blog and a behavior modification chart was suggested.  First I read about the effectiveness of charting your goals, then I learned the best way to go about it.  And then I discovered that not everyone wants the same thing.  So obvious, but apparently I’m not the only one who didn’t realize this since the book is a New York Times #1 bestseller.

Here’s what it says about the “love language,” or primary way of expressing and interpreting love, for children:

Gifts - Kids whose primary love language is gifts like to receive presents. These presents don’t have to be expensive or big. But these are kids who will be excited to receive a trip to a “goody bucket,” a coloring book that you bring back from the supermarket, a book, a bookmark, even a note from you in their lunchbox.

Words of affirmation - If this is your child’s primary love language, he feels most loved and appreciated when he hears you say nice things about him. Things like, “I’m proud of you,” “I love you,” “I’m glad to see you,” or “You did a great job.” To these children, the positive (and negative) things you say to them are extremely meaningful.

Quality time - Kids whose primary love language is quality time really value spending time with you, even if you’re doing seemingly mundane or boring activities. These kids will like being in the kitchen with you while you’re cooking, they’ll like it when you come to their soccer games, watch a TV show together, make cookies together, or read a book with them.

Acts of service - Kids with this primary love language really appreciate the little things you do for them. They feel cared for and loved when you help them complete tasks, like bringing them a glass of water, helping them with their homework, brushing their hair, or tying their shoe when they ask for help with it.

Physical touch - If physical touch is your child’s primary love language, she’ll feel loved and appreciated when you make physical contact with her. This contact could be in the form of a high five, a pat on the back or head, a hug, a snuggle, a kiss, or playful wrestling.

So the rewards for my two boys upon successful completion of their chart are not the same.  The older boy likes gifts and the younger one likes quality time with mom.  (At least for now, so I should relish every moment.)  I still have to accept that just because they’re brothers doesn’t mean they are alike.  Which they prove every day.  

Naturally I had to take the test for me and my husband too.  The results were interesting!  I’ve had 3 job interviews where I had to take a personality test.  All 3 times I never got to hear the results.  Until now I never would have thought that I preferred verbal praise.  I turn red when complemented and will do anything to change the subject.  My husband’s results were also different than I had expected.  Good to know!  The author also notes that, for whatever reason, people are usually drawn to those who speak a different love language than their own.  No surprise there - at first you’re attracted to the differences and then later you want to kill them for it.  I’m sure I have a book somewhere in the house about that.

The Preschool Apology

I had a bad Monday last week.  My preschooler had turned around in the school parking lot and whomped the boy behind us.  The boy was very upset and his father who was walking with him was horrified.  I didn’t see it, wasn’t sure it was even my kid who did it, and really had just wanted to get him in the car without him hitting me.  Pick-up time is right after naptime and my son’s behavior is very unpredictable.  He’s also much larger for his age and when he thrashes, he hurts.

What happened next shocked me more.  The boy’s father insisted that my son apologize.  I had expected a unanimous “We don’t hit under any circumstances” from both of us but instead I was fighting off a clinging child, struggling to get him in the car, processing what to say next to diffuse the situation, and getting defensive with the father.   It was most unsettling and I couldn’t think straight.  There was no way my son was going to apologize.  He was already so upset that all he could do was cling to my leg.  At least he knew he did something wrong.  Surely the boy’s father could accept that.  Haven’t we all as parents been in this situation?

Forcing an apology from a child doesn’t work.  A three year old doesn’t have the cognitive development to understand its meaning and can’t be expected to remember to say it again the next time.  At best it adds more stress to the situation and most important doesn’t do anything to change the behavior. 

To grasp the magnitude of a sincere apology is in some cases a life’s work.  There are several levels to consider:  the act itself that caused the problem, understanding how it made the other person feel, saying the words to the apology out loud, and asking for forgiveness.  I think that’s pretty hard!

I suppose had it been earlier in the day, at a preschooler’s prime hours between 9am and 12noon, my son would have been more receptive to considering the other child’s feelings.  But that’s about as far in the process of giving a sincere apology that I can see for him. In his egocentric world, he is still mastering his emotions, nevermind those of others. 

After giving the parking lot situation more thought, it’s not my son that should be in the spotlight.  I’m the one who should be apologizing for not having a better grasp of my son’s behavior.  We’re still very deep into uncovering why my son gets so aggressive.  I feel terrible that he hit someone and I’m to blame for not realizing the depth of his problem.  As his parent I am working to make sure it doesn’t happen again and I hope that the boy’s father can empathize with our challenge.  Crisis is opportunity and I can thank him for bringing this issue to light.  And that’s sincere.

Playing Doctor

I wasn’t ready for it.  Just like the first tooth and not having a $1 on hand (really, what happened to just a 25¢?), I was completely unprepared for my first encounter with finding my son, who just turned 7, naked while playing quietly with a friend.  The lack of noise should have tipped me.  I opened the door and didn’t know what to say!  Speechless, I smiled and started waving my hands around.  “Well, what’s going on here?”  as if I needed to ask.  “We’re playing doctor,” they replied.  Silly mommy!

Playing doctor is a natural curiosity.  Or, from another perspective, as normal as eating candy, but without clothes on.  You just need to teach kids what’s appropriate and what’s not.  Here are some tips from Perfect Parenting, The Dictionary of 1,000 Parenting Tips by Elizabeth Pantley:

Stay calm: If you actually walk into a room and catch children playing with their clothes off, it’s best if you can remain calm. Make a statement such as, "It is not appropriate to play with your clothes off." Help them get dressed and find an activity to get involved in. Later, at a quiet time, have a brief conversation with your child about what is and is not appropriate. Teach that they must always keep their private areas (bathing suit areas) covered. If this happens with the same two children more than once, don’t let them play together unsupervised. (Don’t make a major announcement, just monitor their time together.)

Teaching time: Take the situation as a cue that your child is ready for more sex education. Spend a brief amount of time answering any of your child’s questions. Let your child’s interest and questions lead the discussion and don’t overwhelm your child with too much information. Give straightforward answers in accurate, but simple terms. Address the issue of appropriate versus inappropriate touching so your child will learn how to be respectful of his own and others privacy.

Read about it: Purchase a book about sexuality and development. Read it yourself, first, because there’s lots of stuff you may have forgotten, and some things you may not even know! Share it with your child at an appropriate time. Let your child know that you’re available to answer any questions. Two outstanding books for this purpose are: My Body, My Self for Girls and My Body, My Self for Boys both by Lynda Madaras. (Newmarket Press, NY, 1993)

Are they mimicking something they’ve seen? Take a serious look at what television shows or movies your child has been watching. Children model the behavior they see, even if they don’t understand it, so be careful what images they are being exposed to.

Take note: Excessive interest in sexual topics, or repeated occurrences of sexual play, may be a warning sign of other problems. There may also be cause for concern if one of the children is several years older than the other. Discuss your observations with a pediatrician, school counselor or family therapist.

In retrospect, I should have known they were up to something.  The boys had forewarned me not to go in the room.  Again silly mommy, I assumed they were making a potion of sorts, which has been my son’s latest interest.  One source, Discipline for Life by William and Martha Sears, advises that you should make a rule in the house to always have bedroom doors open when friends are over - at all ages.  I think that’s a good idea.

I am pleased to report my initial reaction was spot on.  I kept an open mind, pointed out that “it’s not appropriate to play together without our clothes on,” and had them get up and get dressed and come downstairs for a snack.  Afterward, I called the boy’s parents to give them a heads-up, and then spoke briefly with my son at bedtime about what questions he had.  And I found out that the giant foam hand from the Sea Dogs game we went to earlier that week doubled as a doctor’s instrument!  (Sometimes it’s best not to ask too many questions.)

And for my son’s birthday, which was a few weeks later, I got him a starter book on the human body from Usborne Books called See Inside Your Body.

Road Trip!

The excitement, the anticipation, the planning. Is there any better rite of passage in a child’s life than to be stuck in a car for 8 hours to visit elderly relatives?  And to add to the element of pure fun, we don’t have a caravan or even a portable DVD player.  Gasp!  How did we survive?  By ignoring all the suggested practices and winging it.

On Friday night my husband, two sons, and I traveled for 4 hours in what is to me a luxurious company car but even with the wider seats the two boys still smacked each other the whole trip.  As there was no hope of them falling asleep en route, I broke down and let them watch a DVD on my laptop.  Along with the comfort of the car, we also stayed 2 nights in a condo.  This was a big change for us as normally we would have camped in a tent.  Separate rooms, cable TV, a fireplace - what a great way to start a vacation!  And the boys were well behaved.  The purpose of the trip was to check out the Adventure Park at Jiminy Peak which was a blast.  Kid tested, mother approved, and it will be coming to Cranmore soon!

Then we got back in the car to go to my parents house Sunday morning.  Again with the constant hitting.  And along scenic Route 2 in Western Massachusetts.  I tried telling them the history of the Mohawk Trail but sadly they didn’t care.  At least when we arrived at my parent’s they were good for the whole hour we were there.  Yes, just an hour.  After my last visit when I was told at 8am to quiet the boys down or leave, I’m not taking any chances.  I can respect that while my parents are happy I have kids, they don’t necessarily want them in their house.  Which is made quite clear by the knives and tools left out in the kitchen at every visit, and a rifle I found under the bed in the guest room. 

For the next leg of the trip my husband and I parted and I met up with his daughter who drove from North Conway in my Jetta 4-door sedan.  It’s a wonder neither of the boys has a black eye from punching each other.  This was a 7 hour ride to my aunt’s house in Washington, DC.  I pride myself on being economical, efficient, and green, but I guess I’m a little unrealistic.  My car is way too small for a family of four going anywhere.  I started to have dreams of a caravan with a third row seat.  But we may not need it for a while since I don’t think we’ll be invited back anywhere.

Now, I should have known better about visiting my aunt with the boys given the situation with my parents.  “Silly Mommy,” as my 3-year-old likes to say.  My aunt is my father’s older sister.  But she looks younger and sounded thrilled that we were coming.  Of course that was my take after a late night call and not a more telling early morning wake up call.  It’s hard to visit with someone when they sleep until 1pm and your 3 and 6 year old are running around at 7am.  And with her giant dog who almost bit me on my last visit.  Fortunately there were no incidents with the dog but my older son set the house alarm off once.  The other major faux pas was going out to dinner at 8pm, the boys’ bedtime.  Now come on, what is so bad about a 3 year old standing up on the bench in a restaurant and taking his shirt off?  At least he wasn’t on top of the table!  My aunt, like my father would have been if he had seen it, was horrified.  “You need to discipline that boy!”  I would have had to take him out of the restaurant but didn’t want to risk the scene or getting kicked and scratched by him in the struggle.  So I went the “distract by tickling” route to buy some time and eventually we made it out. 

The poor kid didn’t have a good night’s sleep all week, which made him a total wreck sightseeing.  I had to carry him all over the National Mall in DC and drag him through the Smithsonian’s museums.  But it was worth it!  I’ve been to DC almost every year for the past 30 and I just can’t get enough.  This year I started with the National Gallery of Art and both boys seemed to like it.  And then of course we went to the Museum of Natural History and The Air and Space Museum.  And the gift shops. 

We also stopped for a night at my college roommate’s home in New Jersey on the way back and had a grand time.  She insisted they didn’t even mind my 3 year old’s meltdown at 11pm when I wanted to turn the light off.  On an unrelated note, I learned from their son that it’s illegal to pump your own gas in New Jersey.  All this time I thought it was the state’s way of welcoming travelers.

It was just after we crossed the Vermont border on the way home that the boys were actually playing together peacefully.  My step-daughter and I had our first trip zen moment.  And I decided I could live with the Jetta a little longer.