I Let My Kids Watch Too Much TV

This is what happens when you offer to record American Ninja Warrior for your children and you let them watch it whenever they want.

They beg you to go to the playground at the intermediate school. 

They practice balancing. 

Hugmonkey climbs up higher than I can reach. 

There are feats of upper body strength. 

He wouldn't even trying climbing this in the spring. 

He likes to go sideways. Because it takes longer. 

I had to rescue him right after this photo was taken. But considering he's not even 5, that's not so bad. 

"I've got to work on my momentum, Mom." 

"I'm swinging!" 

"I need to hold your hand to jump to the next one." 

I made Lovebug freeze in this position so I could get a picture, because otherwise he went too fast. 

The spiderweb was too much for Hugmonkey until his 100th viewing of American Ninja Warrior. 

Just hanging around. 

This is like straight from the show. I wonder who designed this playground, anyway? 

And I thought that bar was just for hanging. 

Hugmonkey likes to pretend to be a spider in the web. 

I'm just glad he decided not to balance on the top bar. That would have made me nervous. 

Going higher than ever before. 

Do they look like future ninja warriors to you? 

Much as I enjoy the show, I'm not sure what it has to do with ninjas. I feel like if it was really about who was the best ninja, there would also be some katana duels and martial arts. Or at least an assassination. 

Wordless Wednesday: The Big Slide

Hugmonkey's been afraid of this slide ever since he was a toddler. When he was two, I really appreciated this. But at four, I've been encouraging him to try it - with no success. However, last week we ran into one of his classmates at the playground. She got him on the slide with no problem. 

Dating Insights from my Two Year Old

Today I saw the future.

And quite possibly the explanation for half the guys I dated.

It started on the playground at Ironflower's school, where I was following Hugmonkey. I usually follow Hugmonkey around her playground - not only is it not built for 2 year olds, the boy also has a habit of hitting strangers. Sometimes I kinda hope one will (gently) hit him back to teach him a lesson, but so far he has only attacked nice children who just look at me in horror. Anyway, today Hugmonkey was approached by one of Ironflower's classmates, a sweet girl who totally needs a baby sibling. He ran away from her.

Then he spotted the older sister of Ironflower's friend. He strutted in front of her a few times. When that didn't elicit a "Hi, cutie!" or other positive attention, he threw a rock at her. That, of course, got a response. A hugely negative one. I forced him to apologize and he walked away to regroup.

He then began performing for her. There was jumping, a recent accomplishment that involves both feet actually leaving the ground. There was dancing, a perennial standby that always elicits cries of adoration from the family. There was grinning and cocking his head, which is pretty much how he gets out of all the trouble he causes. After proving his adorableness, he sidled up to her again. "Hi!" he said loudly.

She said hi back. He took that as an invitation to start trying to play with the Pokemon cards she had. When she expressed dismay, he picked one up and handed it to her, grinning. She grinned back and started to pay attention to him.

He promptly ran away.

All I could think was, "Holy crap, I dated someone exactly like that - more than once!" I suppose that's an odd thing to consider when watching your toddler at play, but trust me, he was totally trying to woo her. At the beginning anyway.

"I guess he's over me, " said the little girl cheerfully. She started to play with a friend. Hugmonkey's response was to coming running back, I kid you not. This time he skipped over rock throwing and went right for the dance moves.

When I was dating guys like that - and finally realized that they were indeed guys like that - I always assumed that they had mommy issues. Or terrible childhoods. Or some other reason to fear commitment. It never occurred to me that they were born that way. But Hugmonkey and I have a normal relationship, his childhood is not so terrible and it's not like he's had his heart broken or anything.

So either there's a gene responsible for this behavior, or the adult men who act this way haven't evolved beyond the age of 2. I'm hoping for the latter, otherwise I'm going to feel compelled to write a warning letter to every woman Hugmonkey eventually dates.

Where I Totally Fail At Being Non-Judgmental

I thought I should take advantage of the fact that's it's not snowing or freezing (technically, anyway) to take the kids to the park.  Naturally they requested the playground in the next town over, with its two sections that make it difficult to see all of them and few things that Hugmonkey can do independently. But I agreed to it, hopeful that the last 6 months would make the place easier to manage.

It wasn't.

Hugmonkey is no longer much of a climber, quite possibly because he is the youngest and used to having Mommy there to push him up. Which I did. Ironflower ran off and joined up with a girl her age. Lovebug wandered rather aimlessly until 3 small boys arrived with their mothers. He asked to play with them and one boy totally shot him down. As Lovebug tried to follow them up the slide, the same boy had a huge tantrum, climbed down and then screamed that Lovebug had cut in front of him. I had been just watching while pushing Hugmonkey in the swing, hoping that the one boy would accept Lovebug and let him play. But even after Lovebug climbed down and let the boy go in front of him (which I complimented loudly enough for his mother to hear), the boy still wouldn't let him play.

As more boys and moms joined the clique, Lovebug tried a few more times to play. But the boy rejected him each time. I then eavesdropped on some of the other boys and was horrified that a bunch of 4 year olds could be so nasty to each other while their parents were nearby, totally ignoring them. I encouraged Lovebug to play with Ironflower, but there's only so much pretending to be a boy fairy he can take.

I shouldn't be surprised, given that all the moms were unfriendly too. I should be over it - Lovebug is. I shouldn't be judgmental, because I'm trying to see the good in people.

But.

Not only did those brats hurt my kid's feelings, they tried to tell him it was THEIR park. I said something about that too, but once again the mothers totally ignored me and their children's bratty behavior.

Ironflower asked me, after we'd left, why those parents let their kids act that way. Before thinking about it, I responded, "Because they just don't care." I don't know if it's that they don't care to make the effort into making their kids good people of if they just don't care if their kids turn out to be good people, but I didn't go into it with Ironflower. She just commented that it was "too bad".

It's really no wonder those kids are little assholes.

Oops, that sounded kind of judgmental, didn't it?

Dancing Queen

When I got the latest blog blast assignment from the Parentbloggers, I laughed. What in the world did I have to say about staying active? My mother exercises more than I do. But when I checked out the Ryka sneakers involved, I decided to give it a shot. Because the sneakers are seriously cute and I could use some seriously cute apparel in my life. Not to mention motivation to work out.

Because of my children's sleep habits, our tight budget that doesn't allow gym membership and my inability to get up at 5am, I have to work out WITH my children. This effectively eliminates all the Pilates moves I used to do, as any time Lovebug sees an adult on the floor he takes it as an invitation to jump on said adult. For the record, twenty-five pounds of toddler can, in fact, bruise your kidney. With Pilates out and free weights banned (yes, a toddler can lift an eight pound weight over his head and drop it on your toe), the only exercise I get is of the aerobic variety.

For a while I was forcing the kids into the stroller and walking them to the local park. (No, my children will not stand for a walk that does not involve them getting out somewhere and doing something fun) Naturally on these excursions I dressed in workout gear and put my hair in a ponytail. Sometimes I would even sweat. Ooops. The other women at this park wear skirts. And cute shoes (see? This is why I need to win those Ryka sneakers). And although I startled one of the children of the cute moms by actually climbing on the equipment with Lovebug, ("Moms can't do that!" he exclaimed), their cold shoulder at my sloppiness is disheartening day after day.

So the kids and I have "dancing time". We learn body parts by shaking them and sing along with the Wiggles. It's not dignified, and it probably doesn't burn as many calories as my walks, but I bet it makes me laugh harder than anyone else does while working out.

Am I a Lazy Sod?

Yesterday I took the kids to the park. This was after putting their laundry away, dressing and grooming (one small tantrum over hair bows) them, cooking and cleaning up their breakfast, unloading the dishwasher, cleaning the downstairs bathroom and finishing a blog. Then I changed their diapers, put their sunblock and shoes on and loaded them into the car. I had also packed a picnic so that they could play for an extra long time.

They got to play with lots of other kids and I got to talk to their parents. I also got to push them on the swings for forty-five minutes (pushing two kids is very different from pushing one and should definitely count as a work out) and play tag with them. Ironflower has now become concerned about me finding friends at the park, just as I have always encouraged her. Yesterday she even asked another mom if the woman would be my friend. It was quite adorable.

As our two and half hours were winding down, a mom with twin girls came to the now emptied park. Ironflower was excited about the twin babies and all the kids had a good time in the sandbox together. Naturally the mom and I had a nice chat. We talked about temperaments. The woman looked dubious as I explained that Ironflower had gone from a somewhat mellow baby to a very melodramatic toddler. At this point, Ironflower was sweetly sharing a bucket with one of the twins and singing to herself. She looked like an angel.

Then I reminded her that we had actually gone way over her extra five minutes and that it was time to go. "NOOOOOOOOOOO! I WANT FIVE MORE MINUTES! NOOO!" As she screamed at me, she proceeded to throw sand in my direction. Fortunately, she did not get any of the other kids in the eye. Nonetheless, I swooped down, picked her up and placed her in the stroller.

I was mortified. She had had warnings. She had had two and half hours. I squatted down in front of her as she tried to cry and pout and whine at the same time. "Ironflower, if you had asked me nicely for five more minutes, you would have gotten them. But instead you yelled and threw sand, so you are not getting what you want."

"You were so calm," the other mom said admiringly as I went to help Lovebug out of the sandbox. I felt bad. My calm expires by the fourth episode of the day, truth be told. If Ironflower has more than three tantrums, by the last one I am yelling things like, "You don't yell at me, young lady!" I didn't want her to get that mom inferiority complex that I always get around the people who never yell. "You should see me at about 7 o'clock," I said consolingly. The mom smiled gratefully.

I put Lovebug in the stroller and denied Ironflower's requests for treats, toys and her hat. I loaded the diaper bag and the picnic bag on my shoulder. We walked to the car, Ironflower complaining that she wanted to push the stroller, me explaining that she could have if she hadn't thrown a fit. I loaded each kid in, then the bags and the stroller.

As I turned the key in the ignition, I realized I was exhausted. And it was only 1:45pm. Nap time loomed after the drive home. I reviewed my plans for nap time: exercise, dust and shower. I scrapped them for these: book in the back yard. Do you think I should feel bad about this?

Loser Mommy

Let's be clear about a few things before I tell my story. I am thirty pounds overweight. My clothes that fit are all from Target and Old Navy. I desperately need a good haircut and to do my roots. I could use a pedicure. I look like a stereotypical mom from the mid-west.

So anyway, here I am in the suburbs of NYC, where women carry Coach diaper bags. Where even the friendly ones are wearing yoga pants from Nordstrom. They never seem to be bothered by what their children do (or do not) do. They are always calm and well put together. I'm not surprised that I haven't met any new BFFs. But I know there are other losers lurking around here somewhere. I just have to find them.

Anyway, yesterday I took the kids to the park in the next town. We met a mom and her two little girls. Ironflower immediately became enchanted with the older girl and they ran off to play. The mom and I chatted while we pushed the younger ones in the swings. And even though she was skinny with a nice haircut and cute clothes, I liked her. Eventually Ironflower wanted to go to the other side of the park. I waved good-bye to the nice woman as I followed Ironflower and Lovebug to the other area. Once there, Lovebug kept trying to climb the too-high ladder. After distracting him successfully (I thought), he began a tantrum. He rolled in the dirt, cried, kicked when I picked him up and when I put him down. It sucked.

Ironflower continued to play during her brother's meltdown, but then she began asking about a snack. I explained (while wrestling with Lovebug) that we would be leaving in five minutes to go have lunch. Ironflower continued to ask for snack and reject the idea of lunch, I continued to deny her. I decided it was time to leave. As we walked to the parking lot, I had Lovebug on my hip, facing out so he couldn't kick me. We were both covered in dirt. Ironflower was hanging off of my other arm, protesting loudly about her dislike of the concept of lunch. My ponytail had fallen out and my hair was frizzing everywhere.

That's when the nice lady drove by and paused. She rolled down her window as if to say something, then paused in horror. Her own little girls were sitting quietly in her backseat. "Ummm, nice chatting with you!" she called as her tires squealed and she roared down the park road.

Another one bites the dust.