Children
May 29, 2011
High Drama Saturday
This is really a dual-category post. I should have just called it "My Day, by Heather Noggle."
I started out the day with some work, and when it was clear the weather seemed to be ready to cooperate, the planning and prep work for a bike ride began. Here's the general checklist for the first ride of the season:
- Find bike (did that earlier)
- Put air in tires up to 102 PSI
- Ensure all tire patching/tire changing equipment's in the seat pack.
- Ensure all gears etc. are working properly, brakes, yes.
- Find water bottles
- Find sunglasses
- Find rearview mirror
- Find gloves
- Find and don cycling apparel
- Find shoes
- Grab all related gear - iPod, keys, ID, etc.
Ok, did all that - took about half an hour to put those ducks in a row, and then, because I live just south of some huge hills, I put the bike in the car and drove it to a church where I'd leave the car. I should be ready for those hills eventually (within the month, I learned), but no sense freaking self out early.
Got bike out and then proceeded to get on bike. Right pedal up, foot clip in. Push down, align left foot, clip. I did about 20 laps around the parking lot, fast corners, etc. And then it was time for the road.
Crossed over the main road that's too busy to ride to start my pre-mapped route. Felt good and natural, but a few miles in, I came to some train tracks I would have to cross to continue, and, nope, stopped train. Gave it 5 minutes, and then I shrugged, said "Plan B," and continued.
There was no Plan B, so I just kept riding as long as the streets looked decently safe. Tackled some decent-sized hills and noted my cardio conditioning is on the money. Also noted my leg conditioning is NOT - burning thighs most of the ride. But the brain and experience can do a lot. I remember how to attack rolling hills and how to conserve for big ones.
The nice safe path ended, and I found myself at an intersection with a busy street. No real traffic at that time of day, so, well, why not? I'm all comfortable - this is what I used to do obsessively for fun. And there I was, riding with the flow of traffic on a street with a speed limit of 60 mph. Wheeee! Did that a few miles and then took a turn that I thought would head me toward home another way, but I couldn't identify where I was, so back from whence I came.
Cyclocomputer's not hooked up, so I have to guess at mileage - somewhere from 10 - 15, probably 12. All went well - gentle soreness in shoulders and tightness in legs notwithstanding. I'm feeling GOOD.
Get home. Children and Daddy have been in the yard all morning. Playtime in the yard usually necessitates a bath, so both children were in the big bathtub, and Brian was folding laundry. I asked to run downstairs to cool off a bit, and when I sat down in my office in the very chair in which I am now seated, I heard it: DRIP, DRIP, DRIP.
Puzzled, I sought the source. Hmm. Something in my closet is DRIPPING. Doubleplusungood. Opened closet door, and, yep, it's coming from upstairs. Directly above me is the bathtub in which the children are bathing. Brain makes cognitive leap, connects, and ears hear "BOYS!!!!"
Said angels of my soul were dumping cups full of water out of the bathtub and onto the floor. Never you mind that everyone in the house knows this is both inadvisable and unallowed...it happened. Scolded boys are driven from their bathtime fun. We dried the older one (something he usually gets to do himself). The younger one was caught up in the drying process when he decided to...wait for it...urinate on the floor.
This is either funny or tragic (maybe for a split second both). We chose funny.
The rest of the day was uneventful until sitting became painful. But that's just a wound with a purpose - riding - I get to do more of it. :)
hln
May 07, 2011
"You Didn't Just...Yeah, You Did"
So, this morning, I'm relaxing on my bed and petting my youngest cat while my children are finishing their snacks and about to pick up so that the entire family can embark on our Saturday morning adventure. Daydreaming a bit. Decide to go check on the all-too-quiet children. Yes, those children who were finishing their snacks.
So into the kitchen I go, all Mommy mode, and what do I survey?
Those angels of mine have taken the remnants of their Raisin Bran, crushed it to tiny pieces, thrown it to the floor, and are STOMPING ON IT. And there's not a small amount.
Ok, after initial "OMG!" shock to see such sinning in my midst, the children must see my eyes and the downturning of my mouth. I calmly mentioned this behavior is unacceptable, and Jimmy pulls an Adam on me "but, Mom, HE did it." At this point, I teach my four-year-old the term "complicit" and bade him a happy room dwelling.
But first there was the feet cleaning. Bran sticks to sweaty child feet something fierce.
Really glad this wasn't liquid - it's their first huge mess they knew they shouldn't have created, so, hey, not bad for me. I get out the broom and the dustpan and commence sweeping it up. And then I get the first bout of the giggles. The swirling bits of bran (all raisins gone, of course) kinda remind me of that toy where you take the magnet beneath some magnetic shards and make the pictures. I made a lot of pictures with all of this bran.
So, 10 minutes later, all good as new. Nervous children pondering what calm Mom is doing. I visit the eldest. I tell him "sit down" in an ominous voice. I explain it's inadvisable to make messes which you cannot yourself clean. I also remind him it was obvious he knew that the behavior was wrong and that the right behavior (if it did indeed spill unintentionally) was to find me instead of crunching bran with improper machinery.
Youngest just looks confused. Still with bran on his feet and a silly grin.
hln
February 08, 2011
Battle of Wills: The Redhead
The family redhead is now about 2 3/4, and it is time to force the toilet training issue. He knows what a diaper is and for what it is used, which to me means he is ready to be diaper bereft. Mommy has spoken, and thus it is so. And it's becoming an epic battle of will.
The smallest child in our family is very cute in his antics and presense. Those are his weapons. Mine? Age, guile, and the ability to hang the child from a clothesline by his big toe. (Not that I would). The battle thus far this week...
Mom tricks child by any means necessary into toilet sitting. We'll teach the standing part later, but at least by seating him on the toilet, I can force him to stay there. So that's where we start. The discussion is usually as follows:
Child: I don't want to go potty on the toilet.
Mom: Why?
Child: Because I don't want to. (isn't child logic amazing).
Mom: But you have to.
Child: But I don't want to. Never ever. Never ever. Neverever. (Accompanied by a great big smile)
So this is a twice-a-day tempest on a toilet. One time over the weekend I left him seated on there for 15 minutes, and nature did its thing. He looked disheartened and surprised, and even my 4 year-old was heaping praise on him. Next round? Neverever.
Sometimes it's this incoherent screaming that persists the entire time on the toilet. Since I know that may happen, I put on emotional armor before we begin our battle, and I can sit there, bounce other giggling child on my lap, and sing amazingly syncopated versions of great children's songs like The Erie Canal. Some of my best work is covered by Jack screaming.
Parents, I know each kid is different, and probably he'll be somewhat compliant out of sheer weariness within two weeks, but, wow, this one's a tough nut to crack in this regard.
A note from feral cat training. If they hiss, pick them up and kiss them.
hln
High Drama Saturday
This is really a dual-category post. I should have just called it "My Day, by Heather Noggle."
I started out the day with some work, and when it was clear the weather seemed to be ready to cooperate, the planning and prep work for a bike ride began. Here's the general checklist for the first ride of the season:
- Find bike (did that earlier)
- Put air in tires up to 102 PSI
- Ensure all tire patching/tire changing equipment's in the seat pack.
- Ensure all gears etc. are working properly, brakes, yes.
- Find water bottles
- Find sunglasses
- Find rearview mirror
- Find gloves
- Find and don cycling apparel
- Find shoes
- Grab all related gear - iPod, keys, ID, etc.
Got bike out and then proceeded to get on bike. Right pedal up, foot clip in. Push down, align left foot, clip. I did about 20 laps around the parking lot, fast corners, etc. And then it was time for the road.
Crossed over the main road that's too busy to ride to start my pre-mapped route. Felt good and natural, but a few miles in, I came to some train tracks I would have to cross to continue, and, nope, stopped train. Gave it 5 minutes, and then I shrugged, said "Plan B," and continued.
There was no Plan B, so I just kept riding as long as the streets looked decently safe. Tackled some decent-sized hills and noted my cardio conditioning is on the money. Also noted my leg conditioning is NOT - burning thighs most of the ride. But the brain and experience can do a lot. I remember how to attack rolling hills and how to conserve for big ones.
The nice safe path ended, and I found myself at an intersection with a busy street. No real traffic at that time of day, so, well, why not? I'm all comfortable - this is what I used to do obsessively for fun. And there I was, riding with the flow of traffic on a street with a speed limit of 60 mph. Wheeee! Did that a few miles and then took a turn that I thought would head me toward home another way, but I couldn't identify where I was, so back from whence I came.
Cyclocomputer's not hooked up, so I have to guess at mileage - somewhere from 10 - 15, probably 12. All went well - gentle soreness in shoulders and tightness in legs notwithstanding. I'm feeling GOOD.
Get home. Children and Daddy have been in the yard all morning. Playtime in the yard usually necessitates a bath, so both children were in the big bathtub, and Brian was folding laundry. I asked to run downstairs to cool off a bit, and when I sat down in my office in the very chair in which I am now seated, I heard it: DRIP, DRIP, DRIP.
Puzzled, I sought the source. Hmm. Something in my closet is DRIPPING. Doubleplusungood. Opened closet door, and, yep, it's coming from upstairs. Directly above me is the bathtub in which the children are bathing. Brain makes cognitive leap, connects, and ears hear "BOYS!!!!"
Said angels of my soul were dumping cups full of water out of the bathtub and onto the floor. Never you mind that everyone in the house knows this is both inadvisable and unallowed...it happened. Scolded boys are driven from their bathtime fun. We dried the older one (something he usually gets to do himself). The younger one was caught up in the drying process when he decided to...wait for it...urinate on the floor.
This is either funny or tragic (maybe for a split second both). We chose funny.
The rest of the day was uneventful until sitting became painful. But that's just a wound with a purpose - riding - I get to do more of it. :) hln
"You Didn't Just...Yeah, You Did"
So, this morning, I'm relaxing on my bed and petting my youngest cat while my children are finishing their snacks and about to pick up so that the entire family can embark on our Saturday morning adventure. Daydreaming a bit. Decide to go check on the all-too-quiet children. Yes, those children who were finishing their snacks.
So into the kitchen I go, all Mommy mode, and what do I survey?
Those angels of mine have taken the remnants of their Raisin Bran, crushed it to tiny pieces, thrown it to the floor, and are STOMPING ON IT. And there's not a small amount.
Ok, after initial "OMG!" shock to see such sinning in my midst, the children must see my eyes and the downturning of my mouth. I calmly mentioned this behavior is unacceptable, and Jimmy pulls an Adam on me "but, Mom, HE did it." At this point, I teach my four-year-old the term "complicit" and bade him a happy room dwelling.
But first there was the feet cleaning. Bran sticks to sweaty child feet something fierce.
Really glad this wasn't liquid - it's their first huge mess they knew they shouldn't have created, so, hey, not bad for me. I get out the broom and the dustpan and commence sweeping it up. And then I get the first bout of the giggles. The swirling bits of bran (all raisins gone, of course) kinda remind me of that toy where you take the magnet beneath some magnetic shards and make the pictures. I made a lot of pictures with all of this bran.
So, 10 minutes later, all good as new. Nervous children pondering what calm Mom is doing. I visit the eldest. I tell him "sit down" in an ominous voice. I explain it's inadvisable to make messes which you cannot yourself clean. I also remind him it was obvious he knew that the behavior was wrong and that the right behavior (if it did indeed spill unintentionally) was to find me instead of crunching bran with improper machinery.
Youngest just looks confused. Still with bran on his feet and a silly grin.
hln
Battle of Wills: The Redhead
The family redhead is now about 2 3/4, and it is time to force the toilet training issue. He knows what a diaper is and for what it is used, which to me means he is ready to be diaper bereft. Mommy has spoken, and thus it is so. And it's becoming an epic battle of will.
The smallest child in our family is very cute in his antics and presense. Those are his weapons. Mine? Age, guile, and the ability to hang the child from a clothesline by his big toe. (Not that I would). The battle thus far this week...
Mom tricks child by any means necessary into toilet sitting. We'll teach the standing part later, but at least by seating him on the toilet, I can force him to stay there. So that's where we start. The discussion is usually as follows:
Child: I don't want to go potty on the toilet.
Mom: Why?
Child: Because I don't want to. (isn't child logic amazing).
Mom: But you have to.
Child: But I don't want to. Never ever. Never ever. Neverever. (Accompanied by a great big smile)
So this is a twice-a-day tempest on a toilet. One time over the weekend I left him seated on there for 15 minutes, and nature did its thing. He looked disheartened and surprised, and even my 4 year-old was heaping praise on him. Next round? Neverever.
Sometimes it's this incoherent screaming that persists the entire time on the toilet. Since I know that may happen, I put on emotional armor before we begin our battle, and I can sit there, bounce other giggling child on my lap, and sing amazingly syncopated versions of great children's songs like The Erie Canal. Some of my best work is covered by Jack screaming.
Parents, I know each kid is different, and probably he'll be somewhat compliant out of sheer weariness within two weeks, but, wow, this one's a tough nut to crack in this regard.
A note from feral cat training. If they hiss, pick them up and kiss them.
hln
