Swim mom

That’s me. This is our third go round with swim lessons this summer. By my child’s choice, mind you, she loves it so much that she prefers it to pretty much everything else. Although she is looking very much forward to dance beginning again this fall.

Anyways, I’m writing this because today was the first time I had the very uncomfortable experience of a teacher pushing my child out of her comfort zone. It’s really hard to watch your child cry while standing next to the pool desperately looking in your direction. Nearly too much, actually, I almost scooped her up and ran, which is always my first impulse. The only thing that saved the teacher from my wrath was that she recovered very quickly afterwards and seemed able to finish the rest of the lesson.

We’ll see how the next lesson goes. I think we’re definitely due for a break anyway, so I’ll have no regrets about pulling her and being done. If she goes from adoring swimming to not wanting to go, however, that teacher and I will have a word or two. It makes me wonder… we all have to be pushed sometimes to learn something new. Will it scare her off or just help her overcome the fear? Hard to say. I’m not sure I like having to trust that a teacher knows that fine line better than I do.

I guess we all have to learn to jump in the deep end sometime.

The Great School Debate

Just when I thought choosing a preschool was hard enough, now I’m mired in thoughts about kindergarten. The dutchkid has a late birthday, so she is not starting kindergarten until fall of next year. Leave it to me to worry ahead of time.

I think this has been on my mind mostly because unless I make a decision before dh leaves, I will have to figure it out on my own. The next school year will have started before he comes home. And in case you haven’t guessed by the fact that I blog, I sometimes need to talk something into the ground to process it. I just can’t see myself doing that long distance via short phone calls. So school research it is.

I graduated from a Christian school, as did my dh. So for the longest time I figured that a private school would be the route we would go. I’m still leaning strongly in that direction. BUT (you knew there was one, didn’t you)… it is looking very likely that we will be moving after her kindy year. Private education is far, far from inexpensive. I look at the price tag and wonder to myself if it would really be worth it. My cheap frugal dh definitely wonders. Would one year of a good public school be so terrible? Besides, plenty of Christian families choose to send their children to public school.

If I knew we were staying, I would in all likelihood put her in a Christian school simply for continuity. I value Christian education because ideally I want the teachers that influence the dutchkid to share the values that we have. Plus, as my mother reminded me today, I also want a community of parents that has the same values, particularly when you’re talking about parenting teenagers (aka holding them accountable and breaking up the parties). However, I’m not sure that those things come into play so much when you’re talking about a 5 year old. And there are never any guarantees, I found out today that a teacher at my former high school was just arrested for having a sexual relationship with one of his students.

There’s a public school here we’re seriously considering. It’s small, requires uniforms and parent participation, and it’s year-round. Their test scores are some of the best in my district. The kicker is that it’s not in what anyone would consider a nice neighborhood and the majority of students qualify for free or reduced lunch. Which brings up some things I don’t particularly care to admit… (and I’m sure I’m going to get some outraged comments on this, but I’m trying to be honest). Like the fact that I have somehow become a private-school educated snob. As my dh sniped at me, “What, you don’t want her mixing with the peasants?” I could try to go out of district (they do “school of choice” here) but the test scores aren’t really any better, and the schools are triple the size. It seems wrong even to snobby old me to choose a school because the parents have more money.

As of right now, dh thinks we should give it a try. We could always pull her out and enroll in a private school if it was truly hideous. If the Army sees fit to let us stay here then we would probably switch her to a Christian school at some point before she reached middle school. If we move then I’ll get to make this decision all over again!

Sigh. It’s just hard. Mostly, I feel very fortunate that I have the means to choose. I know a little bit about the choices some of you have made (homeschool, Christian school, independent school) but I would love to know how you figured out that choice was right for you. Others of you I have no idea what your opinion is on the subject. What do you think?

Taking care of the kids

So Army Blogger Wife and I are running a race together on Saturday. I’m sort of scared. Mostly because I think she’s going to smoke me. I mean, really? She’s a triathlete. I just run sometimes. That and it’s uphill. A long ways uphill.

But this post really isn’t about the race, it’s about childcare and gender roles and lots of other confused issues. Let me be clear, I’m not airing this as a grievance to make my hubby look like the bad guy, but rather because I’m curious how other families work.

Earlier in the week, I mentioned something to dh about running the race and he very nonchalantly announced that he was planning on going turkey hunting. Translation: “You no longer have a babysitter because I can’t watch the dutchkid”. He had forgotten about the race. I was not a happy camper (understatement of the century). I’ve been planning on this race for several weeks. We hashed it out and in the end, I was ok with it. I was not graceful about it, but he hadn’t had a chance to go hunting yet and this is the last weekend of the season. I knew that I could either walk the race pushing the dutchkid in the stroller (she’s just getting too heavy for me to push while running, much less uphill), or find a babysitter. Now I think he’s coming to the race and watching her for me anyway. Probably out of guilt, and because he has a harpy for a wife, but mostly because his hunting partner can’t go on Saturday.

This issue is what gets to me sometimes about being the primary stay-at-home parent. Whenever I want to do something where children aren’t welcome or because I need to do it alone for my sanity, childcare is the first hurdle I have to overcome. The nature of the Army life is that I generally can’t count on dh being home at a certain time, sometimes that even extends to weekends. I know this is not his fault. But somehow it makes me less tolerant of when he can watch the dutchkid for me and doesn’t choose to. When I’m honest, I think it’s royally unfair that when he makes any sort of plan, he doesn’t think of childcare… because he always has ME. Not that he’s out there gallivanting and painting the town red, far from it. That’s part of the reason why I did find a backup babysitter because I do want him to be able to do things that he enjoys too.

I grew up in a household where my dad didn’t take care of my siblings and I (seriously, it was so rare that I can count the times on one hand). Plus he did whatever, whenever he pleased. I have no idea how my mother handled it, I think I would have lost my mind. So I’m wondering if I’m overly sensitive about the subject in general, or if somehow my expectations are skewed? Maybe I’m a total selfish shrew?

So tell me, how does it work in your house or how would you have resolved a similar situation?

Making my heart sing

She managed to send an entire display of watermelons cascading onto the floor at the commissary today. That most definitely did not make my heart sing.

But this? Oh yeah. Watermelons forgiven.

It has taken her a long time to come around to the piano. She would probably prefer it to be called, “The dreadful loud thing that takes up a lot of my Mama’s time”. As a baby and toddler, she would cry when she heard it… at the time I was a church pianist and piano teacher and she equated the sound with being taken away from me. Now most of the time she’s sort of indifferent. It broke my heart, as I had always hoped that she would be comforted by the music, not tortured. My nephew by contrast has always loved the sound of my brother singing and playing… it always made me jealous.

It’s nice to know now that she is taking it in on some level. She loves to sing with the children’s choir and is a complete ham on stage. She has my love for cheesy 80′s music and I’ve been happy to introduce her to “Major Tom” and Men at Work. She also likes Beyonce and Black Eyed Peas (hey, we’re an equal opportunity household, here). Even better, she easily recognizes bits and pieces of music that are familiar. For example, she will often point out a classical song on a TV show/movie that I either play, or that we’ve listened to.

I’ve tried not to push her toward the piano at all. I know that I will be proud of her even if she decides that music doesn’t interest her in the least.

But I can hope, can’t I?

Operation stay-up-late

I think this might be the first time that I can remember where I have purposely kept the dutchkid up late. Not even on New Years (heck, WE didn’t even stay up until midnight!). She is one of those early risers no matter what. So while I have been tempted to keep her up in the past so she’ll sleep in, I know from the accidental late bedtimes we’ve had that it won’t work.

But tonight that’s not the reason I am purposely sleep depriving my child. No, it’s in the hopes that it will make her procedure go more smoothly tomorrow. We are returning to the dentist (insert ominous music here). It may totally backfire, but I’m hoping that if she’s already a little sleepy it will make the sedation work better and maybe she’ll just be out for the whole thing. With maybe the added bonus of sleeping a little longer in the morning so that she won’t realize how hungry and thirsty she is (nothing after midnight). Sigh. I’m really ready for this whole saga to be over. Wish us luck.

Inadvertent

I don’t know why it is that I always have stories about the commissary.  Although I did have a staff person ask me if I was there every day (Um, you think I would come here for fun?!).  I suppose other people go to the commissary without incident, but then again they must have really boring blogs. 

Today started as a good trip, even though it started pouring rain just as I was about the put the dutchkid in the car. That’s ok, we don’t mind getting wet.  It made for fewer crowds. We cruised through in less than 45 minutes. As a treat for being so cooperative (if a bit loud – she had been serenading passersby), I let her pick out some animal crackers in the cute red box.

When we loaded into the car to head home, I realized that I forgot to save them out and they were in the trunk with the rest of the groceries. So after I buckled the dutchkid in, I told her I would go look. “Oh no, Mama, they’re right here!” she says proudly, opening up the little play purse she had with her. Sure enough, there they are.

My girl, a thief at 3. 

I even talk to her frequently about how we always pay the nice lady before we open or eat anything from a store!  I was so tempted, standing there in the rain, to just get in the car and take her and the stolen goods home.  But I couldn’t do it.  After the whole fiasco with the birthday cake!?  I’m lucky they even let me IN the commissary. We went back inside.  Paid for the crackers, all $1.10 of them.  She must take after her daddy.

Proud

It’s been difficult in the parenting jungle lately. Lots of tantruming, demands and general cantankerous three-year-old behavior. To include several counts of public parent humiliation.

But today was the dutchkid’s first dance recital. It was much to be expected, lots of dazed looks by the young ones decked out in tights, tutus and feather boas. Very little actual “dancing”.

Except for my girl! I might be *slightly* biased, but even dh said after he watched the video how amazed he was that she followed the music (and the teacher’s direction). Sadly, he couldn’t be there because the recital was held in the morning.

I only put her in dance in the first place because it was offered as part of her school day, but on the drive home I found myself pondering if I should seriously look into dance classes after we move. It’s amazing how quickly thoughts of a brilliant future in ballet pop into your head.

Feel free to shoot me if I ever become one of those stage mothers, but it was amazing to see her up there on the stage. I thought I was going to cry. This parenting gig does have its perks.

Decisions, decisions

I wrote last year about my mommy guilt over putting the dutchkid into a preschool two mornings a week this year, which by the way, has turned out to be a great experience. She has thrived in the social environment and really enjoys it. When I chose that particular preschool, it was in part because I heard good things from other parents, but also because it is faith based. I am the product of a Christian education and so almost by default that was always the route I had planned to go.

Over the past few years, however, I have been exposed to and read about the many different schooling options out there. Things that I just never considered before. In my attempts to figure it all out, this past year I read a really interesting book called The Power of Play by David Elkind (the author of The Hurried Child). He talks about how children today are so pushed scholastically from such a young age that they lose the valuable skills provided by self-directed spontaneous play. I felt fortunate that I had chosen a play-based preschool for the dutchkid.

But now I have to choose all over again! We are moving to a much larger community and the options are overwhelming. And ironically now that I’ve educated myself by reading all sorts of books, I feel like it’s such an important decision and I’m worried I’m going to screw it up. My dh likes to remind me that she is only 3, but we will likely be at this duty station until she is through kindergarten. And the all important “they” say that these early years are so important! Not even to mention waiting lists and all the rest.

Right now I’m seriously considering Montessori, an option we didn’t have where we are now. They have multi-age classes with children from ages 3 to 6. So we’d ideally need to decide now if we’re going to try that out this fall. And then there’s the cost of it all, which is about enough to drive my dh to drink. If she weren’t an only child, I think I would keep her at home through kindergarten, the more I learn about homeschooling the more appealing it looks sometimes. I just worry about finding enough social interaction for her, not relying too much on the television and still keeping my sanity. And of course there are zillions of other options as far as religious based education, traditional public education…. Sometimes it feels like parenting is one of those choose-your-own-ending books: “To go down the dark tunnel, turn to page 25. To go into the forest, turn to page 30.”

Which page do I turn to for a happy, well-adjusted, productive member of society?

I used to be tough

As a RN, I used to watch and participate in things that made others faint, or freak out. I was known for staying calm in a crisis. I used to poke and prod tiny babies in efforts to help them survive, learn to eat and thrive.

But now? Now I am completely derailed by minor procedures. I dissolve into a puddle of tears and it takes every bit of my willpower to not completely fall apart. Last night the dutchkid fell while at the babysitter’s and required stitches on her chin. I was fine with the blood, I knew she needed stitches and was fine with that initially. I was fine all through the hours in the ER, right up until the dutchkid started to freak out about being held down and they started talking about conscious sedation. Then I was most definitely NOT fine.

Watching her slip under the anesthesia was almost more than I could handle. I still can’t quite put into words why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was because I was so terrified that something was going to happen and I was never going to get her back.

It is a feeling I never want to experience again, and I don’t know how parents with chronically ill children handle it. It makes me feel terrible for any time I ever thought badly of how a parent acted under stress. It makes me wonder if I will ever be able to go back and do that job again. We finally got home at about 4am and I cried my eyes out while she slept off the rest of the medication.

The dutchkid was right as rain today, and is the proud new owner of three stitches. Yes you read that right, all that for three whole stitches. I am officially a parenting pansy.

3 steps forward, 2 steps back.

I think that we have finally turned the corner on the potty learning.  I’m blogging this somewhat reluctantly, in case I jinx myself,  but I decided to write about it just in case somebody finds my blog and has a kid like mine.   It always makes me feel better to read that someone else didn’t have the potty prodigy who trained early and easily. 

I did not think this would be as much of a challenge as it has been… which goes to show you that I have much to learn about being a parent.  You would think after 2.75 years I would know better.   No one warned me how potty learning can be a long process, although after I started to complain a bit then I began hearing other parents say that they had a child who monkeyed around as well. 

Kids always seem to be out to prove they are one of a kind.  The dutchkid is no exception.  She was pooping on the potty shortly after she turned a year old and I thought we were well on our way to getting rid of diapers early.  Everyone I talked to said that peeing in the potty was the easy part.  Not my kid.  Only in the past few months has she had the awareness of her body during play and other distractions to say, “I need to go”.  Otherwise we would fall into a routine of me trying to cajole her into using the potty at regular intervals, which she immediately picked up on as something I could not make her do.  Try as you might, you can’t make somebody urinate on cue.  Even when you try bribery. 

I know I am fortunate that I haven’t changed very many poopy diapers in the past year, but wet pants, wet panties, wet car seat, and random wet furniture get OLD after a while.  I’ve been thankful that we have wood floors in this house (and laminate in our last one).  More importantly, I hated the power struggle that it had become.  So after we moved here I really laid off.  I figured that the transition of moving would throw her for a loop anyway (which it did). 

And finally, finally she started staying dry.  And going willingly when I asked without pressuring.  And then her teachers at preschool said they thought she was ready to wear panties to school (yay!).  I’m sure we will have several more accidents before she is super reliable, but I feel like the worst is over. 

So take heart, parents of reluctant pee-ers.  I am here to remind you that everybody uses the potty like a big girl (or boy) eventually.