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.

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.

Another sappy letter to my children

Dear Maddie and Sam,

I’ve given up on writing you individual letters. I have the very best of intentions, but time is a precious commodity these days and writing one letter to you both makes more sense.

Mad, let’s start with you. You’re three and a half years old. You’ve mastered the arts of negotiation, stalling and extortion. You’re fully prepared for your teenage years or a seat in Congress.

Our life has changed pretty drastically in the last three months. Sam has disrupted our routine and thrown everything for a loop, but you’re handling it like champ. You’ve never once shown any jealousy or ill will toward Sam. You rush to see what’s wrong when he’s upset, you love to wake him up in the morning and play with him. You’re a fabulous big sister and Sam is lucky to have you.

Maddie, you’re such a wonderful girl. Sure you get on my every last nerve, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re loving, funny, insane, creative and a whirlwind of activity. You never stop moving or talking. You even talk in your sleep, baby girl. I look at you and can hardly believe that you’re the same little baby I nurtured three years ago. I had no idea that you’d grow into such an awesome little kid.

Sammy Sam, you’re pretty stinkin’ awesome, too. You’re fat and roly poly and so happy. Unless you’re not being held or entertained. Left to your own devices, you scream like you’re being tarred and feathered. Recently you’ve become incredibly verbal. There’s a real laugh about to explode out of you at any moment. I cannot wait! Maddie’s first laugh is one of my most precious memories.

You’re quite the Senor Kickypants these days. Your little legs are hardly ever still. You’ve discovered your hands and watch them so intently that you go cross-eyed. Which is adorable and creepy at the same time. Anytime someone makes eye contact with you, you smile your huge, wet grin at them. Your eyes crinkle with delight when you see me over your crib rail for night feedings. It almost makes up for the fact that you wake me up WAY TOO OFTEN to eat at night. ALMOST.

You two are the most frustrating, crazy-making, delightful, wonderful people in the world. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Love,
Mama

Smartitude

Disclaimer: I’m not trying to be doocey douchey and all “My kid can read! Did I mention my kid can read? Books with chapters!” This is something Gerald and I are dealing with and y’all know how I love to share.

So, Maddie’s smart. Like, wicked smart. Like “the pediatrician labeled her a genius” and “her preschool director called me and asked permission to move her up a class this fall” smart. This is no surprise to us, of course. When she was younger, we’d see her do or hear her say something and look at each other and wonder “do other kids her age do/say this kind of stuff?” As we became better acquainted with kids her age, we realized the answer was “no.” Don’t get me wrong; she’s not some kind of scary prodigy that’s destined to graduate Cornell at the age of 14. However, she’s smart enough that we need to have a game plan on how to handle it, y’know?

First of all, we’ve decided not to tell her that she’s wicked smart. Who needs that kind of pressure? Instead, when she’s tried to do something, regardless of whether she succeeds or fails, we applaud the effort she gave. When I was still pregnant with her we read a study that said that linking praise to success can lead to kids feeling like a complete failure if they don’t succeed. That the only good outcome is winning. I don’t care if she comes home with a D- in Algebra if a D- is the best she can do. If she sweat for that D-, then it’s as good as an A to me. If she’s lazy and doesn’t apply herself and still gets a B-, then I’m not as thrilled. So, we focus on the effort she extends, not the outcome.

We also try to strike that precious balance between providing opportunities for her to learn vs. ramming it down her throat. For example, she’s *this close* to reading and I credit it to starfall.com. We started going through the alphabet on the site with her about a year and a half ago, maybe two years. And not for any other reason than it entertained her. She loves to sit in our laps with the MacBook and surf the ‘net. We figured we ought to balance out the kitty videos on YouTube with something vaguely educational. She ended up preferring starfall to anything else. Honestly, her being able to read this early is completely an accident on our part.

Now that we realize what we’re working with as far as her potential is concerned, things seem a little more daunting. Gerald and I were both gifted as kids and completely squandered it, albeit for different reasons. I was lazy and HATED homework so I never did it. I barely graduated high school despite scoring insanely high on ACT. (That score was the only reason I was accepted into college.) Gerald, on the other hand, was misdiagnosed as learning disabled and wasn’t given the chance to prove otherwise until high school. By then, he was so disillusioned with the entire academic world that he blew off college entirely. (Ironically, he now works for one of the best universities in the country.) We both desperately want to avoid these situations with Maddie. We don’t want to send her to public school for two main reasons: 1. The public school system in Texas SUCKS ASS. Seriously, we’re at the bottom of the barrel. 2. The possibility that she’ll fall through the cracks is astronomical. Teachers are spread too thin, paid too little and expected to do too much to be able to pay attention to each of their students and their respective potential. This, of course, leaves us with two options: We can send her to private school and hope that the smaller class size equals more one-on-one attention, or we can homeschool her.

Currently, the state of Texas doesn’t require any sort of registration or certification to homeschool a child. It’s easy to get into and there are plenty of co-ops in our area so the issue of social development is moot. My big concern is that I’m simply not smart enough to keep up with her. I can get her through college-level reading and science, but math? Not so much. I am completely, hopelessly, embarrassingly bad at math. (This is because I tend to think logarithmically and not by integers, but whatev.) How am I supposed to teach her shit I can’t do? Also, will I go batshit crazy being around her and Sam 24/7? (Answer: YES.)

I guess it’s time to figure it all out. She’s in the kindergarten prep preschool class this year so we need to have a plan in place for next year. I swear, these kids are going to be the death of me. If it’s not “feed me! entertain me! provide shelter!” it’s “educate me!” and “help me live up to my potential without becoming That Kind of Parent!”

I hope you’re comfy. This is a going to be a long one.

I’ve been wanting to blog for over a week now and just can’t seem to get any time to do so. Sam’s in this horribly needy/clingy/screechy stage. He’s an absolute gem when he’s being held. Gerald actually calls him “Guy Smiley.” However, the MINUTE you set his ass down, it’s DEFCON 1/Red Alert/Death is Imminent. He hates the swing, the bouncy seat, the playmat… basically everything that’s not Mama or Daddy. I’m not going to candy coat it. It’s a pain in the ass. I struggle with getting the bare minimum done everyday. Even wearing him in the Moby Wrap or Baby Bjorn I’m limited as to what I can do. Some things just aren’t possible to accomplish when wearing a baby.

Anyhow, Maddie’s eating breakfast and watching Curious George and Sam’s still in bed, so I’m going to write until one of them loses their respective shit.

* Maddie’s completely potty trained (during the day). It was a rough four or five days, but we made it through and my girl’s been a champ. If only we could stop the Tour of All Public Restrooms We Encounter, things would be perfect.

* Speaking of, I think this is the ideal time to teach Mad about “private parts.” At church the other night, she started pulling her shorts and underpants down in the hallway outside of the bathroom. Right now, she has no concept of private parts. Hers or mine or Dad’s or Sam’s. We’ve always been very matter of fact about genitalia and treat it like, say, an elbow, when bathing. I want to inspire modesty not shame and I’m unsure of how to go about it. Do any of you have any advice on the matter?

* It’s been 2 years since my gastric bypass. Even with a pregnancy in there, I’ve maintained my weight loss. I’ve lost 145lbs from my starting weight right before surgery and 160lbs from my heaviest. I’d like to lose 20 more pounds, but I’m not stressing about it. I wear a size 12 and a medium and I’m happy with that. I do, however, HATE myself naked. The extra skin! The shar pei wrinkles! The boobs that can be tucked into my waistband! It’s nothing that $40k worth of plastic surgery can’t fix and I look all right in clothes, so I guess it’s not so bad. I need to have Gerald take pictures and I’ll post comparative shots.

* BlogHer ’10 is next weekend and I’m not going. I’ve known for almost a year that I wouldn’t be attending and it’s still upsetting. I had such a wonderful time last year and it makes me heartsick to know that I’ll be missing it this year. And New York City! I’ve never been! I’m trying to be happy for my besties that are going, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for myself. I keep telling myself that while I can’t afford to go to BlogHer, I get to stay home with my kids instead of working 40 hours a week and sending them to daycare. Although, that’s hardly a plus some days, amirite?

Well, I’m halfway through my list of topics and Maddie desperately needs me to pretend to be The Man with the Yellow Hat. I got further than I thought I would.

Against the grain

Today, I forced my daughter to wear underpants.

I know that all the “experts” say not to rush potty training and to let your kid decide when they’re ready, but my kid doesn’t fit the mold. She’s completely able to use the potty. As a matter of fact, she’s done it quite a few times in the past. She likes the convenience of diapers and, frankly, she’s lazy. She also uses the whole potty training situation as a chance to exert control.

She’s at the top end of the weight limit for size 4 diapers, so I told her that she’s gotten too big for her diapers and that’s as big as they get. We’ve been talking for weeks about this and that she’s going to have to start using the potty and wearing her underpants.

So far this morning we have 100% success. And by that, I mean she was happy to wear her underpants and hasn’t had an accident yet. She also hasn’t gone to the bathroom, either, so take that with a grain of salt.

I guess this goes to show that the expert opinion is usually right for most kids, but sometimes you just have to do what you think is right for your kid.

Her milkshake brings all the dinos to the yard

Sam’s starting to be a little more like a baby and less like, well, like a blob. He’s staying awake for longer periods of time. Granted, they mostly occur between the hours of 10:30pm and 3:00am, but STILL. He’s cooing and interacting and generally being more fun than, well, a blob.

Maddie still adores him. She wants to feed him and burp him and hold him and hug and kiss him. (“I will hug him and squeeze him and call him George!”) She’s super helpful and loves to put his pacifier back in his mouth for the 8793485734 time in an hour or run to his room and get me yet ANOTHER burp cloth for Spitty McPukesalot.

I managed to take both kids to a playdate with my new mom’s group this morning. It went Very Well and I feel like some kind of Super Mom. We came home, both kids had lunch and now they’re napping. I feel like just maybe I might get the hang of this. (Which we all know is the worst possible thing I could’ve written because now The Universe must smite me for my prideful boast and my life will be a complete shit storm for the next week as punishment.)

And just because it makes me laugh every damn time I see it, here’s a picture of Maddie nursing her dinosaurs. She refuses to play with any of her baby dolls and instead nurtures the hell outta these guys. It’s sweet and twisted all at the same time.

Bullets from the Front Line

* Sam is currently taking a nap in his crib in his very own room for the first time. Now, every tiny little snuffle and snort won’t jolt me wide awake and have me jumping up to check for choking on spit-up and SIDS. Instead, I’ll hear it over the monitor and have to run to the other side of the house to check. Somehow, I’m not quite sure this “moving to his own room” idea is in my best interest.

* Thank you very much for your sympathy and empathy on the whole “older child is driving me batshit crazy” sitch. It helped IMMENSELY to know that other moms felt the same way when their second child was born. I was feeling very much like an unfit mother. Now, I still feel that way, but in a “normal” sense.

* I’m recovering nicely. I’ve been off the pain meds since the day after we brought Sam home. My swelling and bruising are just about gone and so far my incision has stayed completely closed. SCORE! Also, I weigh five pounds less than I did when I got pregnant. (Don’t hate me. I only gained 13 pounds over the pregnancy.)

* We’ve made the decision to breastfeed AND bottle feed Sam. I realized that nursing exclusively was wicked difficult with a toddler around. And Sam takes about 1.5 hours to nurse (LITERALLY. No hyperbole, people.) and that’s just way too much of my day taken away with another child to tend to. So, I nurse him once or twice a day and he gets a bottle for the other feedings. I realize this makes me unpopular with the “breast is best” nazis, but it’s the best decision for my family at this point in time and I’m happy with it. Maddie was almost exclusively formula fed and has turned out just fine so I know I’m not doing Sam any long-term harm.

* Sleep deprivation is causing my temper to simmer right on the surface, but so far the hormonal roller coaster hasn’t been too bad this time around. The Z0loft is definitely helping keep Teh Crazy at bay.

* We’re settling into our new routines and finding the things that work for us. It’s a HUGE readjustment and sometimes kind of a pain in the ass, but I’m praying it’ll all be worth it one day.