Why Sam's teachers looked at me funny at pickup today...

I would like to introduce you to my son's latest creative masterpiece. At his school, the kids often illustrate books and the teacher writes in the narrative as dictated to them. Sam's brought home a few of these, most having to do with fire trucks and fires.

Until today.

Without further ado, I give you:

That's right, folks, the next great children's picture book. "Zombie Hill."

Aw, look at that nice guy in his nice house. Too bad we all know what happens to people in stories like this with names like "The Guy."

Isn't that always the way it goes? You want to climb Zombie Hill, but you do not know. YOU DO NOT KNOW. Look how happy he looks. Smiling and everything.

Yup, that's right. There are zombies on Zombie Hill. How could he possibly have known?

It doesn't seem to bother him too much. After all, he's still smiling.

Man, I hate it when that happens. Thats what you get for buying a house right next to Zombie Hill. New realtor, dude.

What's that?? A happy end for our hero? Well, well, well. Looks like The Guy has defied horror cliches and lived to fight it out again at his poorly researched long-term investment, The House at Zombie Hill.

Hope you had the hero shoot him in the head, honey. Otherwise I smell a sequel. But don't worry, Sam's Teachers, we'll cover that at the next The Walking Dead family viewing party.

Control Issues

I was all ready to post today about how well Sam is doing with the preschool switch, but with a few recent occurrences, I'm feeling the need to wrap my head around something different today....mainly, the idea of "parental control." I don't know a parent who hasn't heard the command that we should "control our kid!" either directly, or indirectly as a blanket statement about so-called permissive parents. Before I dive in, I should acknowledge that there are certainly bad parents out there, ones that don't care what their kids do or how they do it. But it's been my experience that those parents are few and far between. We may not always know how to get a desired result, or we may be tired, overwhelmed, or stymied, but most parents I know DO care about how their children conduct themselves in the world, even when others aren't looking.

When I hear that phrase, though, it always makes me think. Hmmm....."controlling my kid." What exactly does that mean? How would it look in everyday life? How do we "control" another person, someone with their own feelings, priorities, thoughts, desires and motivations? I had some opportunity to meditate on this today.

Sam, Caroline and I went to the park this afternoon to blow off some steam after a day of housework and lounging. He no longer has school on Friday afternoons, so I've been letting those days fall into a more unstructured pattern. We stay in our jammies a little longer, linger over breakfast, clean up the house and do some chores, and watch some TV. It's nice to not have to rush off. But by the afternoon, the kids are ready for a little exercise. This afternoon, we decided to head to a new local park with an awesome ropes course. We went for the first time over the holiday, and Sam loved the three-dimensional spiderweb of ropes to climb up and through. When we got there, it was mostly deserted due to the cold except for a mom with a son and a dad with a daughter who seemed to have met for a playdate.

Time to stop again so I can editorialize. I try really, really hard to not judge other parents. I wasn't always this way. Frankly, I was pretty sanctimonious when Sam was younger. But as I grew into parenting I relaxed a little bit. As I often tell Sam, different families have different rules, and making a hypothesis about the quality or kind of parenting a kid is receiving based on a five minute encounter is patently unfair. People have bad days, check out for a bit, or are just worn down and sometimes what I see isn't their best effort, so I try to be kind. With that said, I present the following while trying to not judge. But it's gonna be hard.

The little boy, probably about 3, had a car he was enjoying. Sam, seeing that, wanted to head back to the car for his own toy and did so, bringing it to the kid for a trade, which the little boy was happy to do. They were playing contentedly together when the mom of the little boy called him over. She informed him that his playdate was with THIS child (pointing to little girl with dad) and he was here to play with HER.

I was....puzzled. I'm used to different parents having different playground rules, but this was a new one. I explained it to Sam and he found something else to do. Over the next half-hour or so, I observed this mom take away the kid's trucks when he started to send them noisily down the metal slide like Sam (I should mention that no one at the bottom or in the vicinity was there to be hit by them, which would have been an occasion to tell Sam to stop), tell him to be careful to not hurt his friend when he wanted to spin her on a toy, and speak sharply to him and give me the stink-eye when he tried to copy something Sam did that was safe for a 5 year old but not a 3 year old. Come to think of it, she gave me the stink-eye a lot.

So, yeah, that was one controlled kid. And to his credit, he was pretty good about doing what his mom asked. But at what cost? The message he was clearly receiving from his mom in that moment was that she expected him to play with the kids SHE wanted him to play with and not anyone else, to play with his toys in a way SHE preferred, that trying new things was dangerous, and that she pretty much expected him to hurt his friends unless she was there to remind him not to. Extrapolating a bit, what is this kid going to learn as he grows, if this is consistent behavior from his parent? Is he going to be comfortable or confident making his own decisions? Is he going to feel like he is a good, worthwhile person with interesting ideas? Will he take responsibility for his own actions? Will he have any personal agency at all?

When people proclaim that we parents should "control our kids," I think this is what they think that looks like - instant obedience and instruction based on prevention instead of correction. And we poor parents can't win for losing. So often, these same parents get criticized in the teenage years especially for being "helicopter parents" - wanting to micromanage their children, make decisions for them, fill out their college applications so they're done right, bird-dog their classes. Often it seems, those same people that think parents these days can't control their little kids are just as incensed when their teenage employees send in Mom to negotiate their salary or a higher grade in their law school class.

Maybe it seems like I'm exaggerating a bit, but I really do believe that it all starts at this age. Kids are not little adults, and they have to learn these things somewhere. Giving them enough room to make mistakes is part of their growing process, and some of them need a little more room than others. Finding that balance of necessary room and teaching social skills is a tricky one, and it's different for each parent and each situation. A playground and an airplane are two different places, for instance. But find it we must for our kids to develop into the functional grown-ups we hope they will become.

And if we get the stink-eye every now and then, well, I guess that's just the cost of business.

Why I Hate Sleeping Beauty

I hate Sleeping Beauty. Hate it with a passion. Maybe it's because I've had to watch it about 7 times in the last few weeks, but the plot....well, it leaves something to be desired.

The movie opens at the birth of Aurora. Happy, happy day. And these parents choose this day, the day they know an evil witch will most likely be on the hunt to ruin their happiness (remember, they didn't invite her?) to do something really subtle. You know, thousands of people waving flags, screaming high C's in a song that INCLUDES THE GIRL'S NAME, the usual. Seriously, why don't they just hang up a big banner that says, "HEY, MILLEFICENT! COME ON OVER AND DO SOMETHING EVIL!"

And of course she obliges, in the middle of a wish-giving session. Which brings up, who exactly sets the rules for magic here? Is there some authority? Only one wish per little witch, can't undo the curse but can change it, only bring joy and happiness? As the crabby little blue one says, destroying Millifecent would bring her some pretty serious joy and happiness. Sounds like a reasonable loophole to me. No go, though.

Which brings me to the overly specific and complicated spells. For some reason, Millificent doesn't just kill the baby right there. Probably because killing babies in a Disney movie wouldn't fly. But really, did it have to be that complicated? Wait until she's 16? Prick specifically her finger on specifically a spinning wheel? Because that's not at all easy to get around by destroying all the spinning wheels. Seriously, Millificent, why don't you just invite everyone to your volcano lair where you'll unveil all the details your plan before you destroy them all? But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, the witch shows up and everyone's like, "O noes! You mean you're not mad?" Of course she's mad, idiots. She's an evil witch.

And the little witches come up with a truly brilliant plan to hide a baby in a cottage in the woods. Because a baby with three old ladies who suddenly moves into some deserted cottage in the woods wouldn't draw any attention.

Fast-forward 16 years. Now, we're missing a lot of what happened in between, and Disney tries to rectify this by cramming everything that could have gone wrong during those 16 years into ONE DAY, the day of her birthday. Because of course, for the entire 15 years and 364 days leading up to this everyone was on high alert and all was peachy keen, but on the last day they actually have to keep their schmidt together, everyone engages in massive group FAIL.

First, the little witches. I am supposed to believe that this is the very first time they were EVER tempted to use magic? Didn't they raise a baby? I mean, she's a princess and all, but there are still blowouts, colic, and tantrums. And potty training. Good God, I don't know a single parent who wouldn't want a little magic for that. But they're stymied by a CAKE and a DRESS? They've really never done either of those things before? What did they do on the other 15 birthdays, play with rocks and sticks while she wore a potato sack? And then, of course, they send her out by herself on the day Milleficent will be the most desperate with a "LALALALA and don't talk to strangers!" Yeah, I'm sure that'll work.

And Milleficent. You disappoint me. Up until now, you were at least a head above the others, in spite of it all. But NOW you figure out that your minions have been looking for a baby the whole time? You didn't think to ask maybe once in the last 15 years how their search was going for a toddler? A 5 year old? A 10 year old? Consider me let down by your poor management of minions. At least the crow is on the job now (a crow, I might add, that is eventually turned into a statue by Little Crabby Witch, in spite of the whole "only bring joy" thing from earlier. But I digress).

Let's take a look at the parents. Who knows where Mom is. Probably frantically cleaning or doing her hair. Having your daughter taken away by fairies as a newborn has got to do a trip on your head. She's probably popping pills. But Dad....hoo, boy. Your daughter has been missing for 16 years. You're about to see her again for the first time in that long. Not to mention that an evil witch is after her and, as I mentioned, I would deduce that she's getting desperate. So what do you do? What's that? Get drunk with your buddy while singing some stupid drinking song that includes a word no one actually uses or understands? Ding, ding! Way to go, Dad. And Disney. As you learned from Dumbo, drunk idiots in a children's film are never not funny.

So then, the little witches smuggle Briar Rose to the castle BEFORE sundown. Because that's not inviting trouble. And then they're all like, "Let's leave her by herself! Nothing bad will happen!" How do you people manage to walk around without padding? And we trust you with magic?

Of COURSE Milleficent gets her. All you idiots really dropped the ball. And it was THE LAST DAY you had to pull off your cunning little plan. I think she's better off sleeping off the rest of her life if waking up means dealing with all of you.

So, there she is, waiting for the prince in a coma. And of course, her hair is perfect. The three little idiots come up with a plan that actually might work....rescue the prince, point him in the right direction, and tell him to go to there. And they give him weapons because, although they can't change spells, they can conjure weapons out of thin air. Magic Rules, section 105b.

And then we find out something that really makes me mad. Milleficent can turn into A FREAKING DRAGON. Wouldn't this have come in handy sooner? I mean, perhaps she could get her lazy rear out of her castle and do a couple fly-overs instead of depending on pig minions? Maybe she could have just torched the castle and all the inhabitants at the very beginning instead of waiting 16 YEARS? The stupid. It burns.

But not as much as the fact that, in spite of being a witch AND a dragon, she is, apparently able to be destroyed by a sword that THE FAIRIES MUST HAVE HAD THE ENTIRE TIME. Are they too small to lift it? Needed to give it to a human first? Who knows! THEY'RE FREAKING MAGIC, PEOPLE, AND MAGIC HAS RULES!

Anyway, Briar Rose wakes up as Aurora, marries the prince, and dances happily among the idiots, no doubt ignorant of the fact that she should have been destroyed as a baby or in the intervening years if everyone had their crap together, and that it was through sheer luck and MAGIC RULES that she is even currently living at all.

Probably better if she doesn't know.

Me This Morning, or The Sad State of A Mother Suffering from Sleep Deprivation and the Aftereffects of T-box.

Well, crap. I need to get up to go swimming. But darn it, my eyes won't open. Ok, ok, I'm up. Wait a second....why do we have a ladder instead of stairs? Hold it....is this a dream? (opens eyes) Yep, there's my pillow. That was a dream. Ok, I'm really going to get up now. Feet on the floor, I'm walking, walking, going up the stairs....hold the phone! These stairs, they don't stop! I'm in our inaccessible attic! How the hell did that happen? Wait a second, I think I know what's happening here. Yep, there's my pillow again. Still a dream. Ok, FOR REAL I'm going to get up now. Yes, yes, I can feel my body getting out of bed, boy am I stiff. Going up the stairs, here's the kitchen...wait a minute, I didn't know Laural was coming over! And why did she put all my feminine hygine products in the sink? Ok, now I'm pissed. I REALLY thought I was awake that time.

This happened, kid you not, about ten times before I actually got up. And I was seriously mad about it.

I eventually made it to the pool.

Adjustments

I'm trying really, really hard to not freak out about the fact that Mark goes back to work on Monday. He's been working from home a few hours and had a few meetings over the last few days, and I'm getting a taste of what it's like to stay at home with two kids. Oh, and did I mention that they're both sick, along with Mark? In true motherhood style, I am the only one that did not get the Horrible Disgusting Cold. Someone has to take care of everyone, after all. So, Caroline is snorting and woofing her way through nursing sessions every few hours, Sam is snotting all over his own face and occasionally wiping it on me, and I am upstairs in Sam's bedroom with both of them, trying to not think about jumping out the window and running down the street.

Ok, it's not that bad all the time. But I got a taste of what venturing out with two kids is like on Saturday while Mark was at a meeting. The weather was nice, so I loaded Caroline in the sling and decided we'd take a walk to Discovery Park. One tantrum later, Sam was happily riding his tricycle down the sidewalk. All was going well - a visit to the playground, running into some friends - when Caroline got hungry. Instead of trying to dash for home, I decided to go to the visitor's center to feed her in the playrooom while Sam entertained himself. Unfortunately, entertaining himself meant dumping sand on the floor, taking another little girl's toy, and eventually whacking her. I, with Caroline in the sling and still nursing, hauled him out into the hallway for his timeout, after which he refused to apologize to the little girl, in spite of my threat that we would be leaving on the spot if he didn't. Time to make good on the threat. So, I hauled him under one arm to the entrance of the visitor's center where a Grand Mal tantrum was had, and I think there was something said about leaving the tricycle here for someone else to have before it was gotten upon and ridden home, crying and trying to turn around the whole way, while I tried to steer it forward with Caroline fussing and crying in the sling. Not really fun, all told.

Along with that, we've had countless tantrums, refusal to use the potty, and (Mark's personal favorite), a dump in the pants. I'm trying really hard to be patient, knowing that he has a lot going on and needs to adjust to not being the baby anymore, but it's taking just about all I have to not list him on E-Bay right now.