WHAT I KNOW FOR SURE

Oprah has a section at the end of her magazine titled "What I Know For Sure". What a great idea! I thought that I'd do something similar.

So the following is what I know for sure.................

Maybe I should rephrase that...........

I realize that I really don't know anything for SURE! Just when I think I know what I'm doing in life, something or someone comes along to change my mind. Oh well, at least I'm flexible! If you can believe, I wasn't even SURE how to spell flexible so I had to look it up in the dictionary. But now I'm SURE its spelled f-l-e-x-i-b-l-e. Hah! I'm SURE of one thing, I know how to spell flexible!! At least right now I do, I may forget by tomorrow.

YOU WERE RIGHT, I WAS WRONG

Several years back, when I was still working and I didn't have any kids, I had an argument with the guys that I worked with. They already had children and they told me that kids are born with 90% of their personality and you were LUCKY if you could mould that last 10%! I got on my soap box and said THAT couldn't possibly be true and it MUST be the other way around. At the time I thought kids were basically little pieces of clay just waiting to be formed into wonderful adults. Well, today I'm here to tell you, I WAS WRONG! Now I have three kids and I know that THEY WERE RIGHT!!

My son, my firstborn has a personality like a donkey, stubborn. He likes everything to stay the same including the fact that he has never wanted to leave me. This should have been obvious to me the day that he was born. It took 32 long hours to get that kid out! His head was down, but he was facing in the wrong direction. This was because he wanted to get his head wedged firmly into my spine so as I pushed I only succeeded in causing myself more agony. The cord was wrapped around his neck but I'm convinced that this was only because he was using it to help him hold on. I can picture him holding on for dear life yelling "No way, I'm not coming out!"

My youngest is a worrier. She also had the cord wrapped around her neck. Apparently this really scared her because there was meconium (poop for those who don't know) in the amniotic fluid. I guess it really scared the you know what out of her! When she came out, she was probably thinking, "oh my god, what if the doctor drops me!"

Then there's my middle daughter. The cord was around her neck too but she wasn't worried a bit. She came out fat and happy! She weighed a pound and a half more than my other two kids and I think that was totally due to her laid back attitude. She was two years old before I saw her worry about even the simplest thing (a pea got stuck in her nose).

In general that is the way that they all are today. Sure I've managed to get my youngest to worry a bit less and the middle one to at least worry a little. I've manage to get my way with my son at least some of the time. However, I have accepted that they were just born with the personalities that were handed out that day. I can deal with that. Afterall, this way I can't really be blamed for any psychological problems they develop!

DIRTY ENOUGH TO BE HAPPY

It has come to my attention that many women have an obsession with cleaning. I am NOT one of them. Many times when I've been at other people's houses, I've been told "don't mind the mess" and I'm left searching for a mess that doesn't exist. I wouldn't have said I'm a slob, but lately I've wondered. Compared to these people's houses, I've allowed my house to become a pig sty!

Once a neighbor of mine came to me in a panic to borrow some bleach. She didn't want her soon to arrive visitors seeing a stain in her sink. Not only did I not have any bleach, but I had to stop myself from recommending that she just strategically place a dirty dish over the stain. I realized that I should not be giving her advice because I'm the kind of woman who once used a piece of French bread to mop up some spilled Koolaid. I was too lazy to get the sponge. Actually, I found the French bread to be quite absorbent! Dare I mention the saleswoman who called trying to sell me new windows? Apparently, they were the kind that can tilt in to be easily cleaned because she asked me how I cleaned the outside of my windows. When I said, "I don't", she laughed and confessed that once she didn't clean her windows for six months. She misunderstood what I meant by "I don't".

I've told my husband I would be willing to clean day in and day out, but I'm concerned what it would do to our kids. I think I've almost convinced him that we need to save our children from developing AOCO (adult onset cleaning obsession). The only way of stopping it is to expose them early on to plenty of messes. I also believe that my undesirable cleaning habits can benefit the mental health of other women by making them feel much better about themselves. I can hear it now, "Did you see Elise's house? What a slob, I'm much neater than her!" Think of all the boosts to their self-esteem!

Friends have also helped me in justifying my messiness. One friend said it's much better to let your house get really messy because it's more satisfying to clean a dirty house. Since then, I've tried to follow her philosophy, and I'm proud to say I've been quite successful. A particularly wise friend said "I figure if people came to see a clean house, they're coming to visit the wrong person." Wow, I'd like to reach that state-of-mind. So, don't be surprised if the next time you stop by, you have to step over some dirty clothes, around a pile of toys and then slip on a banana peel!

A MOTHER'S DAY LETTER

I have mixed feelings about Mother’s Day. I look forward to the usual "special breakfast" of cold toast, with a lot of butter, crusted scrambled eggs and burnt sausage all served with heaps of love. My kids always pick out a flat of flowers for planting but I especially like the homemade gifts and pictures. My ambivalence is created because what I’d really like is a personal commendation from the President of the United States for the outstanding work I’ve done as a mother. I am not holding my breath. I decided long ago my best compliments come in the form of hugs and kisses and spontaneous exclamations of "you’re the best mom". Just seeing how happy my kids are makes me feel good. These are rewards I get all year long. My ultimate reward would be to one day receive the following letter, because every mother hopes they are doing a good job.

Dear Mom,

Now that we are older and can really appreciate what you’ve done for us, we’d like to say thank you. You gave us discipline and taught us the difference between right and wrong. You showed us how to deal with different people and all sorts of situations. You taught us about life by including us in everything you did. We never felt left out. You told us we were great and gave us the confidence to face anything. We always knew you’d be there for us when we needed you and be our voice when someone needed to stand up for us.

We had our bad days when we were probably driving you crazy but you gritted your teeth and hugged us anyway. You had your bad days too when you yelled like crazy but you usually said sorry that you were feeling grumpy. It taught us that people are only human. We know you sometimes laid awake worrying or feeling guilty. You gave your best and we want you to know it was good enough. You’re a great mom and we are glad you’re ours!

Love,
Your Kids


I know my kids and husband appreciate me but this Mothers Day I’m giving myself and other mothers a pat on the back. Being a mother is challenging and rewarding. Its one of the most important jobs on earth and I’m glad its mine.

TEACHERS

Now that I’m a world renown columnist I’ve decided to use my power to inspire people to show appreciation for teachers. Okay, so maybe I’m not world renown but teachers still deserve some appreciation. After all, in what other profession can you get kicked and have your pocketbook thrown out the window all in the same day? That’s exactly what my husband did to his kindergarten teacher and she was still so fond of him that he got to sit right next to her for the first two months of school! Fortunately he grew out of his feisty attitude and became a good student. As an adult he’s seen firsthand the trials and tribulations that teachers endure. He is involved with a program called "Future Scientists" where engineers and scientists from his workplace go into local grade schools and conduct experiments with the kids. (WITH them not ON them). His first encounter with the students almost caused him to enter a permanent vegetative state. His colleagues gently guided him from the classroom while he mumbled something about teachers not earning enough.

I admire how patient teachers are when dealing with parents. They get parents in denial about their child’s behavior "Little Ralph was just expressing his creativity when he painted Suzy’s hair green". Some parents are convinced that their Johnny is much too advanced to be working at such a slow pace. "He’s been coloring since he was 8 months old and he stopped eating glue at a VERY early age!" Then there are parents like me. I’m one of those parents who come into the classroom to "help". Just before Thanksgiving I went into my daughter’s kindergarten class to help the kids make pilgrims out of construction paper. I’m always amazed at how teachers can handle a class of 20 or 25 kids. I was only working with five at a time and I couldn’t keep track of who was gluing what and where they were gluing it! After seeing that the first set of pilgrims looked more like aliens, the teacher decided to help out. Thank goodness. With a little more glue the table would have had a permanent collage of patterns and construction paper affixed to it! She even kept her cool when a kid at the next table threw up on his worksheet. Phew, it was almost time for me to leave. Not only did she have to stay but she had to come back the next day. These teachers keep coming back. Are they crazy? I for one am glad that they are. It’s a dirty job but someone’s got to do it.

Its human nature to complain about the bad things, but I challenge you to praise the good things your kid’s teachers do. Don’t do it tomorrow, do it right now. Pick up the phone and leave them a nice message on their voice mail or send a note in with your kids. Tell them something you like about them. Such as, "I like the way your nose matches your face" or "I am glad you don’t burp in class" or even "You’re a wonderful teacher and I’m glad my child has you". I sincerely hope teachers are flooded with compliments, they deserve it.


Epilogue: I wrote this a few years back, now my daughter who was then in kindergarten is now in fifth grade and my youngest daughter is in second grade. I'm still torturing the teachers with my "help". I'm surprised that sometimes they seem to appreciate it!
I see that I wrote that classrooms have 20 to 25 kids, now I've seen some with as many as 30 kids! Yikes!
A special thank you to Mrs. M. for teaching S., even through her tears. Just remember sometimes we all "just need to cry"!!

POTTY TRAINING 101

Any house with a preschooler deals with a wide array of bodily functions. The majority of the situations that are dealt with concern what people call bowel movements. In our house we call it poop. I have been fortunate to have had some very interesting experiences with poop. Besides the various shades of brown I’ve seen many yellow tones and some quite impressive shades of green. The locations can be just as varied. They include the floor, the kiddy pool, the lawn and the bathtub. Those of you without kids may be grossed out enough to stop reading or possibly to reconsider plans to have kids in the future. The rest of you are probably laughing and recalling your own fond memories.

The idea of potty training is to have only one poop location, where you can flush and be able to avoid viewing those colors. The first step in training is to identify your child’s style. You may have a "holder". At the mere mention of the potty this type will suddenly hold all movements for a week. Not good. You may have an "I don’t care" type. He could poop in his underwear and continue playing for several hours. The third type’s timing is off. They’ll say, "I need to poop," after sitting several minutes on the potty they’ll get up and poop on the floor. My 3 year old daughter fits the "I’ll never be potty trained" category. When she told me this, I looked into the price of adult disposable undergarments and decided I needed to do something. Of course putting your child into a category doesn’t help at all, but it makes for interesting conversation. I always love to hear about other styles that I’ve never seen.

Since this is my third child, I would like to share my expertise with more inexperienced parents. My technique is called the Lazy Parents Method of Potty training.
* Rule number one: if its work for the parent don’t do it. I’ve never understood why parents work so hard at potty training when disposable diapers are so easy.
*Rule number two: wait, then wait some more. I’ve found two years old is definitely too young. Believe me eventually your friends and relatives will give up nagging at you. Then they’ll start talking behind your back where you don’t have to listen to them any more.

Following these two simple rules will ease the transition from diapers to toilet. This will free you to worry about more important things like, "what else are those people saying behind my back?!"


Epilogue:
I wrote this piece quite a few years ago and tried to have it published in a local magazine that I had previously published articles in and the editor refused because of the discussion of poop, particular the part about the colors. My youngest daughter is now 8 years old and fully potty trained.