Rewards

I was kvetching on twitter this morning that Maddie is completely impervious to punishments/consequences. Times outs, losing TV, losing bedtime stories, spankings… NOTHING phases her. She evaluates the punishment versus the satisfaction of doing whatever it is that she shouldn’t be and decides the punishment is worth it. It’s maddening!

Anyhow, Marie Green suggested parenting based on rewards instead of punishments. Gerald and I have talked about doing that in the past but haven’t because we’re afraid of creating a sense of entitlement in Maddie. We don’t think she should be rewarded for doing what’s expected of her or for following the rules. You don’t get rewarded for following the rules as an adult. When was the last time you got pulled over by a police officer just so he could tell you that he saw you stop for that stop sign and “good job!”? If you follow all the rules at work you get to keep your job. You aren’t entitled to a raise or a bonus because you do what’s expected. I know that rewards are far better motivators than punishments, but our society simply isn’t set up that way once you’re no longer a child.

However, since punishments don’t motivate Maddie, I’m trying some rewards instead. I created this:

So far today she’s earned two stickers. One for throwing away her juice box when she was done with it and the other for being a good listener. I’m giving her one every time I see her doing something good. She’s eating lunch right now and instead of no snacks later if she doesn’t finish her lunch, I’ll give her a sticker if she does. She can use the stickers as currency to buy extra bedtime stories (which she loves because they delay the actual “bed” part of “bedtime.”) or Halloween candy. I just hope this works. And that I’m not creating some kind of entitlement-driven-monster-brat.

Halloweeners

This year Maddie asked to be ghostie in a sheet. Cheapest and easiest costume ever? Why, yes. Yes, it is.

I used a king size pillow case instead of a sheet. $10 for two of them. I put it on her and used her body as a template to cut arm holes along the seams and then cut some holes for eyes and a mouth.

Underneath the pillowcase. Please notice her new Fancy Nancy sneakers. Please do not notice that her pants are entirely too short. She is all legs, damn it.

oooooooo spooky!

For the the record, she hummed Edvard Grieg’s In The Hall of the Mountain King all along the trick-or-treat route.

Braaaaiiinnss!! Or squaaaassshh!!

Sam used Maddie’s first costume. Only instead of being a cute jack o’lantern, he decided to be a zombie pumpkin.

Bonus: Here’s a movie of Sam jammin’ out to his favorite song.

Sammy Sam from Erica Dressed Up on Vimeo.

Fatty, Fatty, Two by Four

Presumably, you’ve all read the Fatties on TV piece on Marie Claire by Maura Kelly. (I’m not linking it because I don’t want to give them any more publicity.) As a former “fatty,” you’d better believe I have OPINIONS upon OPINIONS about the article, but I’ve pretty much vented them all via twitter. However, I can’t seem to get over the fact that the editor of Marie Claire felt that this article was in any way, shape, form or fashion appropriate to print. It seems that making fun of fat people is the last socially acceptable form of cruelty.

Can you even imagine the editor talking to Ms. Kelly and saying something like, “What do you think about that new show that has those wetbacks making out?” Or how about “those niggers?” Or “fags?” Or “dykes?” Or “anorexics?” We would never, ever, accept an article written with pejoratives directed at anything other than obesity. Why is it still all right to make fun of someone for being fat?

Oh, and the fact that the author gives “advice” on how to stop being fat! How helpful! Yet, would we tolerate advice on how to no longer be anorexic? “Just eat something already. Jesus.” Or how about advice on how to stop being gay? “Have you tried dating women? Maybe you just haven’t found the right one, yet.” No, being morbidly obese isn’t healthy. However, we’re much less concerned about the health and well-being of fat people than we are with the aesthetics of fat people.

We can villify Marie Claire or Maura Kelly all we want to, but really, the fault lies with us as a society. As long as we tolerate the bulling of fat people then this sort of thing will continue. We need to make it clear that it’s not all right to to call someone “gross” or “disgusting” simply for being.

Health Kick, Part II

I just tried to walk/jog (wog?) in my neighborhood and it was PAINFUL. The skin on my thighs was bouncing so hard it felt like I was going to go right through the sidewalk. And my belly/boob area was a tragic mess. I feel like I need to workout in a wetsuit to hold everything together.

I’d love to hear some suggestions from anyone out there who’s lost a lot of weight and has lots of loose skin to deal with. Should I stick to low-impact stuff?

Health Kick in the Pants

I need to start a Health Kick. Being pregnant gave me permission to eat like crap. I haven’t been pregnant for five months and I AM STILL EATING LIKE CRAP. I’m a comfortable size 12/14 but would like to be more like an 8/10. I don’t know what that equates to in poundage to lose. Maybe 20 lbs? I weigh 170 and I’m thinking maybe 150ish? I’ve got LOTS of extra skin hangin’ around so I don’t know if I can even fit in an 8.

Anyhow, the problem I’m facing using as an excuse to not do anything is finding TIME to exercise. I’ve got two kids and a work-from-home job. About the only thing I can come up with is to do a workout video while Sam takes his morning nap. Maddie can do the tape with me! BUT, Sam is super inconsistent with napping so I’d have to scrap the workout whenever he decided to be a jerk about it. How can I carve out some time just for me without everyone around me getting pissy about it?

Also, I’m not keen on working out just WHENEVER. I’m a sweater. Not the kind you wear. The kind that sweats. A LOT. I’d prefer to not have to just randomly workout and take a shower in the middle of the day.

So how do you fit in a smidgen of exercise?

Yes, it’s another sappy letter to my kid. Shut up.

Dear Future Maddie,

Recently, I’ve been struck by just how incredible you are and I want to make sure you know it. This is a snapshot of you at the age of three and three quarters:

You are fearless. Except when it comes to bugs. Your first question is always “Is that a bitey kind?” Since I am also afraid of bugs, my answer is usually “Probably. Let’s not touch it, ok?”

You are so very loving. You tell me you love me at least three times a day. Unprompted. There’s no telling how many times you reply to my declarations of love with “I love you, too, mom.” It’s got to be in the millions. I, um, say it a lot. You want hugs and kisses all the time. One of my very favorite things is our Snuggle Time. Every night, after I put Sam to bed, you and I have a half an hour to an hour of Snuggle Time in my chair. We watch TV together, or talk, or play Pocoyo on my laptop. Whatever we feel like doing. But we’re cuddled up together as we do it. You also love to have Snuggle Parties in your bed; either as I’m tucking you in or waking you up. You want me to lie down next to you and hold you close. I think about how much I loved Snuggle Parties with my mom when I was a little girl and I can hardly believe that there’s a little girl who wants to have them with ME. It seems so surreal sometimes.

You are also extraordinarily friendly. At the farmer’s market on Friday you struck up a conversation with the older lady in line behind us. I eavesdropped like mad while I paid for our produce.
“Hi! What’s your name?”
“Hello there. My name is Jane. What’s your name?”
“I’m Maddie. How are you today?”
“I’m great, Maddie. How’re you?”
At this point, you turned to me with a HUGE grin on your face. “Mom! She said hi to me! And we told each other names! She’s friendly!” I smiled at you and at your new friend, Jane. Jane asked you how old you were. “I’m three. I’ll be four soon. I’ve got a birthday coming up,” you replied.

Jane looked at me incredulously. “She’s THREE?” Yep. She sure is. She’ll be four in January.

You and Jane continued to talk. About Halloween, mostly. Trick-or-treating, costumes, candy, you know, that kind of stuff. As we were leaving I reminded you to say goodbye to Jane. “Goodbye! It was nice to meet you!” you said as I pushed our cart to the doors. I was beaming with pride. You are the friendliest, most well-mannered little girl I know.

Last week I was asking the standard “how was school” questions that you HATE to answer and I asked about the other kids in your class. “Do you like the kids in your class? Have you made any friends yet?”
“No. I don’t like any of my kids. And they don’t like me, either.”

I was 99% sure this was bullshit on your part because, well, you have a tendency to lie. Especially about school. But, being the dutiful parent that I am, I asked your teacher about it the next morning at school. She assured me that you were popular and seemed to be well-liked by all the kids as well as liking them in return. I figured this was the case and thanked Miss Denise for the feedback.

That afternoon, when I picked you up, Miss Denise took me aside and explained that she had paid special attention you that day. She informed me that you were a social butterfly and everywhere you went, there was a trail of kids following you. You walked holding hands on the playground first with Lily and then with Natalie. Slade actually went up to Miss Denise and said “Maddie just shared all the toys with me! She’s so nice!” Miss Denise told me that you were very popular because you were kind, generous and fun to be around. I thought my heart would just burst out of my chest. Those are exactly the characteristics I had hoped you would embody.

I try to tell you how proud I am of you every day. I try to make sure you know how much I love you and love being your mom. Some days I’m short and snappy and grouchy and I’m sure you don’t feel my pride in you or particularly loved. And I’m sorry for those days, baby. Please trust me when I tell you that I’m ALWAYS proud and grateful to be your mom. And I love you so much that mere words can’t even begin to describe it. You are everything I ever wanted in a child… and then some. I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for us.

I love you as big as the sky,
Mom

My gorgeous kiddos

It’s been awhile since I’ve bombarded you with pictures of my gorgeous children. Consider yourself bombarded.

The great carrot massacre of '10

Why do you keep saying "bath," mama?

Carrot flavored goodness

My cute. Let me show you it.

In her birthday shirt from Aunt Shelly

Gorgeous Girl

Outside to look at the moon after bathtime.

Stuff and Junk

* My new medication is kicking in for real. No longer just placebo effect happiness. I know this because the side effects have kicked in as well. So far, nothing is so bad that I want to quit taking it. Let’s hope it stays that way.

* On the plus side, I’m feeling good. Not “good” in a falsely inflated way. Just “good” in a normal way. I feel more even-keel. I don’t have such frequent and terrible outbursts of anger or depression.

* My dr called with my lab results and my liver enzymes are perfectly normal. (w00t!) My amylase and lipase are elevated which is symptomatic of some sort of pancreatic wonkiness, so I’m to make an appointment with the gastroenterologist post haste. She also surprised me with the news that I’m pretty severely anemic. This is contributing to my overwhelming tiredness along with my son believing that sleep is for chumps. I’ve been taking an iron supplement daily and dang! I don’t think I’ve ever had such terrible side effects from a supplement before. I think I’d almost rather be tired.

* Tomorrow afternoon, I’m going for my bi-annual smash-o-gram and MRI. This just a normal screening and not diagnostic. I haven’t found any lumps or weirdness. And still I fret and wonder if this will be the time they find something. Being in the high risk program is nice because I’m confident that when I’m diagnosed it will be caught early. However, it’s awful because I use the phrase “WHEN I’m diagnosed” not “IF I’m diagnosed.” I sort of consider it a fact. Pragmatic or fatalistic? Who knows.

Fun Fact Friday!

* I started my new medication on Wednesday. I feel better already, thanks to a combination of relief to finally be getting some help and the placebo effect.

* I’m struggling to understand how that Kody guy from Sister Wives is shocked at being investigated by the Utah police. Dude. You went on television and showed everyone that you’re doing something illegal. And that same show is paying you, so you’re also making a profit from said illegal activity. If the Utah police didn’t investigate you we’d have been waaaay more surprised.

* FWIW, I don’t think this kind of polygamy should be illegal. All five people involved are consenting adults and they all knew what they were getting into before they got involved. Who cares? They’re not hurting anyone and they seem legitimately happy. Why does the government give a damn? Same with gay marriage. Who cares? If two people of the same sex, or 12 people of the opposite sex want to get married, let them. It doesn’t undermine the country in any way, shape or fashion.

* I changed hours at work so that I’m now working in the afternoon when Gerald gets home from work. It’s not ideal, but I won’t be up working until midnight six nights a week in addition to having a baby who thinks sleep is for chumps.

* Since I’ll now be working until 6:00pm most nights, I’m going to start making crockpot meals for dinner so that I don’t have waste time cooking after my shift. Sam goes to bed around 6:30 and I don’t want to set that back too much farther if I can help it. Do you have some recipes to share?

* Tomorrow is my little town’s fall festival. I can’t wait! It’s small, but fun. I’ll take lots of pics to show ya. You know you need to see some adorable chubby baby and gorgeous little girl.

* Maddie has asked to be a ghost under a sheet for Halloween. Cheapest costume ever. Gawd bless the Little Einsteins and their Halloween episode.

* Sam is sleeping on his tummy on the reg now and is so much happier. The downside is that he drools a lot and sucks his hands, so he wakes up with the stinkiest hands EVAR. And I have to change his sheet every other day because of the drool puddles. He has to wear a bib pretty much all day or his outfit is soaked in 37 seconds. I had forgotten how damp babies are.

Elmer’s Glue and Scotch Tape

Thank you. For not judging. For not saying “I told you so,” even if you were thinking it. For empathizing. For sympathizing. For taking the time to encourage. Thank you. Even though you’re all so far away, I felt each of you close by last night. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me. Thank you.

I saw my doctor today. Have I ever told you that she’s a woman? And a mom of two little boys herself? And her kids are exactly the same age apart as mine are? She gets it. She listened. She hugged. She gave tissues. She said that she wishes more women would be brave enough to say that being a mother isn’t always great. That it’s hard. That we wonder what in the hell we were thinking. That we sometimes wish we’d never had children in the first place. We all struggle to live up to this “ideal mother” persona that we’ve created in our collective imaginations, but the truth is none of us are this mythical mother who never gets upset, never says ugly things to her kids, never feels ashamed and never dreams of running away. She simply doesn’t exist, this woman that we’re all trying to be. Motherhood is HARD. And it would be so much easier if we all said these scary things out loud and supported and encouraged each other, instead of hiding them out of some misguided sense of shame.

We’ve started that, you and me. I wrote my post. You commented about how it’s been rough for you, too. We’re breaking the taboo and admitting that we’re sometimes broken and that doesn’t make us bad mothers. It makes us mothers. Period.

So, my wonderful doctor wrote me a prescription for a new SSRI and will see me in three weeks. Unfortunately, the drug she chose isn’t covered by my insurance because it doesn’t have a generic. I left a message and she’ll call me back in the morning with a new script. Thank goodness. I feel like I’m not quite as broken now. I’m held together with Elmer’s glue and Scotch tape, but I’m held together nonetheless. I keep telling myself that I just have to make it two or three weeks and I’ll feel better. That’s not so long to wait, right? I can plow through knowing there’s an end in sight. I’m not just floundering out here grasping for something, anything, to keep me afloat.

I also got TWO flu shots today. My arm is so sore that I can barely lift it above my boobs. I’m fairly certain that I already feel sick, too. ::cough cough:: I can feel a Man Cold coming on right this very minute. Imma milk this sumbitch for all it’s worth. Which is about $.17.

I also had some labs drawn. My liver enzymes have been elevated in the past and need to be checked (My mother had non-alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver and her actual cause of death was liver failure due to all the chemo drugs. I don’t have a fatty liver anymore, thanks to losing 140lbs, but my liver may still be scarred so it’s something my doctor keeps a close eye on.) and I’m being tested for Chronic Pancreatitis. My bariatric surgeon suspected that I have it a year ago and I’ve never been tested. I’ve been having flare-ups lately so it’s time to face the music. I’ve got a referral for a Gastroenterologist who specializes in pancreatic and biliary tract diseases. Of course, this includes pancreatic cancer, which I am steadfastly refusing to think about even though it keeps trying to sneak its way into my already troubled mind. Because I’m crazy AND a hypochondriac, apparently.