Abbie & Ian & Tory Update

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Hair Raising

Abbie has learned that pulling hair is a neat trick. If she pulls her brothers’ hair, she gets a reaction out of them. If she pulls their hair hard enough, she’ll get a reaction out of me.

Like everything else she does, Abbie pulls hair for attention. If her brothers are ignoring her, she can give their hair a quick yank and they’ll start interacting with her. That interaction might involve biting, but apparently that’s better than being bored. She’ll also start interacting with me in the form of scolding and time outs.

Abbie pulled Ian’s hair this afternoon while we were out. She wanted to leave before I was ready. I told her to wait, and after a minute of waiting she grabbed Ian’s hair and pulled. She didn’t let go this time, though; she just held on tight to his hair and kept pulling straight up.

As Ian started complaining, I reviewed my options for dealing with her. I scolded her, but we were in public so I had to do so quietly without resorting to my Fear of God Voice.

When scolding had no effect, I had to move on to more drastic measures. Time out was worthless because she was already mad about having to stand around with nothing to do.

I grabbed her arm without thinking of what I would do next. I couldn’t just yank her arm away from her head without fear of leaving Ian with a giant bald spot. I tried poking a couple pressure points on her arm, but that had no effect, possibly because I don’t actually know any pressure points. I tried pulling her hand apart, but it was in a tight fist that I couldn’t penetrate without pulling it away from an increasingly irritated Ian.

Not knowing what else to do, I used the same technique I use for stopping a bite in mid-chomp. I put my fingers on Abbie’s cheeks and applied pressure, forcing her mouth open. She hates that, probably because it hurts, and she immediately let go of Ian’s hair.

Ian quickly relaxed as his hair follicles snapped back, and he continued waiting patiently. Abbie started complaining about her harsh treatment, but at least she didn’t move. Meanwhile, I felt like pulling my hair out.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Just Wondering

Today was Abbie's last day of preschool. For the next three months, she'll be home all day everyday. It will be my job to care for her and educate her, just like I used to do. Now, how in the world did I do this for the first three years of her life?

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Happy Almost Birthday

Abbie’s birthday is in three days. Her party is in four days. But her preschool birthday was today.

Abbie’s preschool had to celebrate her birthday a little early to fit it into their calendar year. Tomorrow is her final day of preschool until fall. Since the last day of school is filled with goodbyes, special events, and extensive cleaning of personal spaces, they celebrated her birthday on the penultimate day of school.

My birthday is in August, so I’m used to celebrating school birthdays at odd times. In one of my early years, my parents sent me to school with a bag of Snickers to celebrate my half-birthday. When I approached the teacher she told me they weren’t going to hold a birthday party for me when it wasn’t my birthday. So I got to eat an entire bag of Snickers after school. Happy half-birthday to me. As I aged I learned to keep my mouth shut even on those rare occasions when my birthday fell early in the school year lest someone discover it’s my birthday and make an embarrassing fuss.

As an almost-four-year-old, Abbie loves it when people make an embarrassing fuss over her, so we’re celebrating her birthday with all candles lit. My part of the preschool party was to send her to school with a bag of cookies. The cookies were of course prepackaged, eliminating the possibility of dangerous entering the school. The children ate these cookies during snacktime in addition to their regular snack. The school then sent the rest of the cookies back to me along with a well-fed Abbie.

I don’t know what else the school did for her. All I know is she walked off the bus wearing a crown that said “Happy Birthday Abbie!” She also wore a huge smile, so the fuss made must have been adequately embarrassing.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Neither

I always give the kids a choice of shirts to wear in the morning. Getting ready for the day is demanding, and giving them a choice of clothes gives them a little control over it even if the choice is nothing more than stripes or solids. Plus we’re working on decision making skills, and hopefully hastening the day when the kids will decide to get ready in the morning without me yelling reminders at them every 90 seconds.

I asked Tory, “Do you want to wear the orange striped shirt, or the cat shirt?”

“I want the rhino shirt!” he replied.

The danger of giving them a choice between option A and option B is sometimes they choose option C. I limit their choices to speed the selection process, but the boys’ object permanence is in full effect, and they remember favorite shirts even when they’re out of sight. For some reason, Tory has designated this blue shirt with a rhino silhouette his favorite.

I didn’t know where the rhino shirt was, or even if it was clean, so I tried to direct him to the choices literally at hand. When he insisted on the rhino shirt, I slipped the cat shirt on him thinking maybe this animal was just as good. His flailings as I forced his hands through the armholes informed me this was not an acceptable substitute.

I went back to his room to find the rhino shirt. Fortunately it was clean. Naturally it was at the top of the clean clothes since a quality shirt like that wasn’t going to spend much time in storage.

He giggled as I slipped it over his head. I sighed in relief that I had at least averted one tantrum for the day.

An hour later I removed his rhino shirt. He had smeared poop on it in a stealth diaper removal maneuver. We’ll both be happy to see it clean again.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Crime and Punishment

Finding effective discipline is a challenge. I’ve tried screaming vague threats, but the kids quickly learned that I have little to back up my words.

I’ve tried locking them in their rooms, but they wind up having too much fun in solitary confinement. Within seconds of me closing the door, someone is giggling. Maybe that someone found a toy. Maybe that someone is jumping on a bed. Maybe that someone is taking advantage of this chance to bite a brother without fear of dad seeing it.

I’ve tried making them sit in chairs for time outs, but that turns into a game. One child sits in a chair, then the other children pull up chairs alongside and they have a contest to see who can be the most disruptive while still technically being in a chair. Abbie’s favorite tactic is sitting in the same chair as a brother and slowly sliding him off the chair as she slides closer to the center. The boys are fond of jumping between chairs positioned inches apart.

Abbie found a new disciplinary tactic tonight to deal with Tory’s naughtiness. Keep in mind that Abbie has little grasp on what qualifies as “naughty.” She understands that when I yell at someone, that person was being naughty. She’s not very good at realize who’s being scolded. I might scold Abbie for throwing rocks, and she’ll decide that the nearest brother is the one being naughty for running around the playground. She also believes that fairly benign actions are naughty. She might declare her brothers naughty for reading in their room, or eating their sandwiches at lunch. Almost any action I single out, she might classify as naughty.

I don’t know what Tory did tonight. I was working in the basement when I heard Abbie scold Tory. He may have stolen something from her, or he may have picked up a stuffed animal from the floor. Whatever he did, I heard Abbie yell at Tory. Soon after, mommy yelled at Abbie. Soon after that, Abbie yelled all the way into her bedroom.

I climbed the stairs to ask what had happened. Abbie had dumped her glass of milk on Tory’s head as punishment for … whatever. Mommy deemed this offensive and sent her to her room. I could already hear Abbie playing with the ducks she keeps hostage in her room, so I doubt her punishment sunk into her head. After we stripped off Tory’s milky clothes, he enjoyed the chance to run around naked, so I doubt his “punishment” sunk in either.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Summer Time

The kids slept in until 8:15 this morning. With a couple days of preschool left, Abbie is transitioning into her summer routine nicely.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Look What the Kid Dragged In

Ian toddled up to me this morning during lunch preparation. It was about 11:30, which put me in lunch preparation’s initial phase of checking the Internet. Before I can focus on food, I have to check my various news sites for updates since I last checked them an hour ago.

As Ian stood by my side, he held something up to me and yelled, “bird!” My peripheral vision said he had something small and furry, probably one of his stuffed animals. Chances are it was a stuffed bird.

After he yelled, “bird” a couple more times, I finished my paragraph and glanced down at his hands. I quickly realized that whatever he was holding wasn’t stuffed with cotton. It was small with smoky grey fur and was obviously carbon-based.

My first instinct was he was holding our cat, but this animal was much too small. Next I thought he sprung our chinchilla from his cage and was parading him around the house, but again this animal was too small.

I took a closer look, and realized he was holding a bunny. A baby bunny. A dead baby bunny.

“Bird!” he yelled, offering his catch to me.

I yelled for mommy because, honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. Mommy grew up on a farm. She had to have experience with dead animals.

Mommy was as horrified as I was. Not knowing what else to do we carried Ian outside with the bunny still tightly clutched in his hands. There we pried his hands open and dropped the bunny in the backyard where it came from.* Then I whisked Ian into the bathroom where we thoroughly scrubbed his hands.

I don’t how Ian got a dead rabbit. It was floppy when he carried it inside, so obviously it had died recently. I doubt our little 30-month-old is coordinated enough to catch a live rabbit, even a baby. I suspect that our cat caught and killed it. Our lazy, mildly obese, morbidly out-of-shape housecat caught and killed it. That sounds a lot better than our toddler smothered it.

* Several hours later it was still in the spot where we dropped it. That’s when I unceremoniously wrapped it in a plastic bag and threw it away. What else am I supposed to do with a dead wild animal?

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Ooh, Fireworks

Tory carried one of Abbie's ponies into the kitchen tonight. It was a My Little Pony style pony with a creamy white coat and a long flowing pink mane and tail. It was a girl's pony.

I have no problem with cross-gender toys. I encourage Abbie to play with sports toys and tool toys. I encourage the boys to play with Abbie's frilly toys. I'd be happy to see the boys play with dolls; it would be nice to see someone play with the dolls we keep in this house since our non-girly girl Abbie mostly ignores them. When our children play cross-gender, I just want them to put a gender-appropriate twist on their play.

"What's the pony's name?" mommy asked Tory.

"Star!" Tory said, pointing to the star printed on the pony's hindquarters.

"The pony needs a manlier name than that," I said, trying to salvage some shred of gender-appropriateness.

"Fireworks!" he said, reinterpreting the pony's star.

That's a good name. I'd be proud to have my son brush Fireworks's long flowing pink mane.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Sick and Tired

I knew I was going to get sick. The kids' noses were too runny, their coughs were too congested, and their fingers were too snotty for me to escape unscathed. Still, I had hope.

That hope is running out my nose right now.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

On the Road Again

We were out of town this weekend. The kids returned home crankier than ever. They all came down with colds on the trip. Nobody napped, and they didn't exactly make up the lost sleep time over night. They spent about 12 hours locked in their car seats over a 55-hour span. But they did eat at McDonald's three times in that 55-hour time span, so the trip wasn't a total bummer for them.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

What Not to Say

While I was hanging clothes outside this afternoon, Abbie wandered up to update me on her activities inside the house.

"There was soap everywhere," she said.

I finished hanging clothes and followed her into the bathroom. Sure enough, there was soap everywhere. Abbie had dumped about a quarter of a 128-ounce liquid hand soap refill bottle onto the bathroom floor.

I wasn't happy about her behavior, but I had to give her communication skills credit.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The Joys of Homeownership

Homeowner lesson for today: Pool pipes tend to freeze and shatter over winter. Check for leaks before spending several hours trying to fill the pool.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Never Underestimate a Child's Desire to Hit a Sibling

The kids’ latest game is the Boop Game. This involves hitting a sibling, saying “boop” in a cute, high-pitched voice, and giggling. The kids think this is great fun, even though they hit each other hard. They rear back for a full-force open-hand blow that creates a thud heard across the room. The ferocity of the hit alarms me, although not always the recipient, but I can’t convince them to stop.

If I say, “No more hitting,” they ignore me.

If I say, “No more games,” they repeat me and continue booping.

If I say, “No more booping,” they laugh uproariously. When they make me say, “boop,” that’s when they win apparently.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Happy Late Mother's Day

We celebrated Mother's Day tonight because we were too busy this weekend. Even though I only had to sign and seal four greeting cards for mommy, I'm still playing the Too Busy card.

Mommy's greeting card from me was one of those cute, mixed-media cards. There's nary a nicer card anywhere for under a dollar. It had several items glue to the front including cardboard hearts, a paper mache rose, and a wire twisted into heart shapes. That wire's exposed end poked her finger as she opened the envelope, creating a puncture wound deep enough to draw blood.

Happy Mother's Day. Sorry about the tetanus.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Burning the Candle at Both Ends

Thanks to the constantly earlier sunrises, the kids woke up an hour early this morning. It all evens out, though, because the kids went to be an hour later than usual last night because we were busy running errands.

Friday, May 09, 2008

Breaking and Exiting

Abbie locked me out of the house this morning. It happened while I was working on laundry in the backyard. I like to hang laundry outside to dry when weather permits. Avoiding the electric dryer is good for the environment and it saves money. That saving money thing would’ve come in handy if I needed the savings to offset the cost of a locksmith.

I let the kids run wild in the backyard while I work there. Sometimes they insist on me swinging them, but usually they find enough outdoor distractions for me to work in peace. They can chase a ball, slide down the slide, or just fill their pockets with sand to track through the house later.

I guess Abbie didn’t want to be outside this morning. I was too engrossed in clothespinning to realize that she had wandered back into the house. When I started inside to grab another load, I discovered our sliding glass door was closed. Usually I leave the door open, allowing a free exchange between the house and backyard of children, pets, and insects, so I had a bad feeling as I approached it. Sure enough it was locked tight. Abbie had apparently gone inside, shut the door, verified that the locking lever will stay in both a down and up position, and then wandered into the deeper parts of our house.

I knocked on the door, hoping I might convince Abbie to flip that little lever down. I couldn’t even get her to come to the door, though, so she must have been in her soundproof room, or possibly waist deep in the snack drawer.

I thought about pulling a screen out of a frame and crawling through an open window, but all the windows were still shut tight. Stupid late spring.

I opened the fence gate and walked around to the front door. This involved locking the boys in the backyard unsupervised, which I wasn’t eager to do. If Abbie slipped into the house and locked the door unnoticed, obviously my supervising skills are less than stellar anyway, so I trusted them not to get into too much trouble while I searched for a way into the house.

The front door was locked. I never know which of the half-dozen people passing by daily on our suburban cul-de-sac have malicious intentions, so I leave the door locked at all times. I didn’t have the key in my pocket either. Suddenly I wished I had checked my pants pockets carefully while sorting clothes.

My last hope was the attached garage. I fiddled with the door for a few minutes before opening it with a secret that hopefully none of those malicious passers-by witnessed.

I checked on Abbie and verified that she was in the house without doing anything naughty besides locking the back door. I then went to the laundry room to switch the load as I had planned to do before my impromptu property survey.

I carried another load into the backyard and continued clothespinning. After a few minutes, I realized that the boys were out of sight and too quiet. I walked around the corner and found the fence gate wide open. Apparently I didn’t shut it as tightly as I thought when walking to the front door.

Ian was playing on our front porch. Tory had taken advantage of our unfenced front yard and wandered down the street. A nice man had found him and chased him from the nearby intersection to our house. I alternately thanked him and apologized, and he told me not to worry about it, these things happen. I’m glad he wasn’t one of those malicious passers-by.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Drum Duet

Ian didn't think much of Abbie tonight at bath time. He was happily playing in the tub when she stepped into water play area. He couldn't scoop water anymore, so he pinched her to make her move. I pulled his hand away and told him to stop, and he immediately tried it again. And again. And again. And an estimated dozen more times. I finally distracted him with a cupful of bath water dumped over his head.

The boys are like that now. When one of their siblings does something to annoy them, they don't complain or move to something else, they go straight for the A-bomb of pinching. Or hitting. Or biting.

A few minutes later, Abbie started drumming on Ian. She likes hitting people with open palms in rapid, bongo-like succession. It's a game for her. I drum on the children too, but when I do it it's cute. When Abbie drums on my arm it's annoying. When Abbie drums on Ian's bare, wet chest, it's painful. Her wet hands made more of a slapping sound than a percussive sound.

Ian protested the drumming, and I told Abbie to stop. When she continued, I pulled her hands away from him. While Abbie was restrained, Tory started drumming on Ian's back. When I told him to stop, Abbie started on his chest again. Abbie and Tory thought this game was great fun. Ian thought it hurt. I thought it was appropriate payback for his pinching flurry earlier. Then I thought about how naughty all three children could be, and I wanted to scream along with Ian.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Swing, Swing, Scream


Mommy bought one of these swings for the kids at Home Depot. It’s a two-seat swing, perfect for encouraging cooperative play between two similarly sized children, such as the two boys in our home born three minutes apart.

Mommy’s dream was to give the boys something to enjoy together. They’d step onto the swing and rock back and forth, each helping the other swing higher into the air while both giggle the entire time. Abbie could use it too. Her weight difference is small enough that she should balance well with one boy. If she’s too heavy, she could push the two boys, which would make it fun for all three children.

With it recently attached to our play set, I took the children outside to enjoy it tonight after supper. I loaded Abbie and Tory into the seats. Ian watched from the ground since he was the last one to the swing, and possibly a rotten egg.

Within three swings, Tory was screaming. He’s too small to fit properly on the swing, and he didn’t appreciate the sensation of not being able to rest his feet on the pedals while his butt is in the seat.

I slowed the swing in hopes that Tory might find a comfortable position. Abbie immediately protested the drop in momentum. She wanted to swing, or, as Abbie might say, “I WANT TO SWING!

Meanwhile, Ian was screaming at my feet the entire time. He’s too young to grasp the concept of waiting patiently for his turn, so instead he opted to vocally express his displeasure just in case I’d forgotten about him.

I pulled everyone off the swing and removed it from the play set. It’s in storage now and might return when they’re a little bigger. Our dream of them playing nicely together dissipated in a cloud of anguished screams rooted in three different causes. To put it another way, the two-seat swing is exactly like every other item in our house, unshareable.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

"Money Money Money Money. Money."

Abbie has been stealing money from school. I’ve pulled several coins and a few paper bills out of her pants pockets over the past few days. It’s all play money, and I don’t think anyone has noticed it’s missing. There are worse things for her to bring home from preschool, such as the class pet or some sort of disease, but I’d rather she not get in the habit of bringing things home unless they’ve been explicitly given to her.

Since I’ve never caught her sticky fingers in action, I can only assume this money comes from her preschool. I have several clues linking this money to her preschool. First, we don’t own any play money like this, so I know it came from outside the house. Second, I know her preschool has play money like this, although that’s hardly enough evidence to convict anyone in a non-Texas court of law. Third, this money only appears on preschool days. Now we’re into serious evidence.

I don’t mind having the money around the house. Abbie obviously likes the money or she wouldn’t have taken it in the first place. When she empties her pockets at home, the money just becomes one more plaything littering the floor. I need to watch her outside the house, though. A couple days ago, Abbie spotted a coin-operated gumball machine in a store. She wanted one, and I told her no. Demonstrating frightful resourcefulness, she pulled a coin from her pocket, announced, “It’s a penny,” and started for the machine. Fortunately I stopped her before she could jam the mechanism.

Taking this money isn’t a big deal, besides the violation of the whole “stealing is wrong” principle. I’m sure three-year-olds inadvertently take things from their preschool all the time. Parents just pack it into the backpack the next day and send it to school again. The coins are cheap, plastic, and plentiful, so I don’t imagine it’s a huge loss if they never make it back.

Still, I put all of her coins into a plastic bag and slipped it into her backpack. I hope the paper money is easily replaced because I throw those away after pulling those crumpled wads out of her tiny pockets.

Giving the money back might not be as easy as I thought. The bag of coins was still in her bag today after preschool. A note was also in her bag asking, “Do you want us to keep this money?” Maybe it didn’t come from preschool after all.

Monday, May 05, 2008

The Great Outdoors

Warmer weather is here. I no longer have to stay cooped up in the house listening to the kids whine at me because they’re bored or frustrated. I can now send the kids outside where they can play with the mountain of outdoor toys littering the backyard. At least they’ll play until they get bored, at which point they’ll come inside and whine at me out of frustration that I won’t swing them instead of washing dishes, but at least I get a few minutes of peace every day.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Picture Post

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Ian is demonstrating one of the reasons why we rarely feed chili to the children.

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We took the children to a parade. The liked the music, the floats, and all the people marching. But they loved watching this Thomas float, and they’re only dimly aware of what Thomas is. This and the fire truck that crept past with its siren blaring made this parade the coolest thing ever for the boys.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

After a Day on the Town

Now that we’ve definitely, positively, absolutely, maybe experienced our last freeze of the season, we have a lot to do outside. Consequently, we spent most of our day on the road. We visited a greenhouse to replenish the stock in the landscaping graveyard surrounding our house. We visited a local tulip festival to celebrate the arrival of the spring flowers. We visited a hardware store to replace all the home improvement tools that we lost during the winter storage season. About the only thing we did at home was feed the kids, and sprint them out the door so we could make it home before bedtime.

To our surprise, one of Abbie’s preschool classmates met us when we arrive home. He and his mother were handing out invitations to his birthday party, and just happened to walk up to our house as we pulled into the garage.

As we settled the kids back into home, we invited the boy and his mother into our home. That seemed like the right thing to do since the soon-to-be-four-year-old bolted through our front door and took off after our dog as soon as we opened it to answer the doorbell.

I realized our house was a mess as we led them to our living room. The kids scattered their shoes and socks across the entryway before they tore through the rest of the house. Most of their dishes and about half of their food from lunch was still on the table. The pair of underwear Abbie decided not to wear right before lunch was on full display on the living room floor.

I wanted to apologize for the mess, but then I realized that everything embarrassingly messy had happened today. We didn’t clean anything in our haste to leave the house after lunch. I might’ve muttered a quick apology while saying something about kids being kids. I’m sure the mother understood considering her boy played with every toy in our house at least once during their five-minute visit.