Alcohol and Nine Year Olds

Man, if you want to see a little drama start a dialogue about how old should your kid be when you talk to them about alcohol. Here's the situation. Yesterday, at my son Thane's ninth birthday party the kids got into a humorous conversation about drinking alcohol. About getting drunk.They were laughing and singing little rhymes about drinking and driving. This is my son's social circle. His closest friends. Here's a picture of these boys. They play hockey, and competitive soccer, they are in Boy Scouts, and a variety of other activities in the community. They are typically developing kids. Firstly, they didn't care in the least that Chris and I were standing a metre away from them. Secondly, did I mention they are nine years old. Maybe because it was the last birthday celebration in a string of way too many. Maybe it's just genetics, but I couldn't keep my mouth shut. For better or worse here's a reasonable representation of what I had to say to them.

You are nine year old boys. This conversation about drinking is not appropriate at a birthday party. I am telling all of your mothers you were talking about alcohol so they can give you the correct information you need. And drinking and driving is absolutely unacceptable and disgusting.

Well. Dead silence. Uncomfortable grins. A couple of apologies. Thane, used to me giving it to him straight, picked up his cake and asked if I could turn the radio on so they could dance. Party on dudes. No skin off his nose. Thane likes to know where he stands with us. It gives him comfort and stability. He's not a kid for surprises. So he won't be surprised or upset when I do call the other mother's, and the principal of their school to tell them what the kids were talking about. It's obviously time for these guys to hear the unvarnished truth about alcohol. Alcohol is a drug. Drinking and driving kills. A drunk kid is a defenceless kid. Alcohol and violence go hand in hand. And finally, drinking in moderation is how Mommy survives. Sorry. What I meant was, when you are an adult drinking in moderation is perfectly acceptable.

I too plan to get on the Internet and see what information Thane needs at his age. I don't want to offer a bunch of old cautionary tales that bore, or overwhelm him. I just want facts and truth. Then if he gets into a situation where he needs to make choices he'll make an educated choice. My kids aren't with me 24/7. They go to sleepovers, they go to school. They go to birthday parties. I'm not naive enough to think a nine year old wouldn't take a jar of alcohol to school in a back pack. Or sneak a beer out of the fridge to taste. If not this year, in the next couple of years. 

Here's the kicker. Thane has been asking sporadic questions about alcohol. Just as I pull dinner out of the oven. Twenty minutes after he's supposed to be asleep, two minutes before we have to head to the rink. Did these questions register on my radar? Truthfully? Barely. And until yesterday's performance, I didn't string them all together. Yesterday, I realized those boys have already been talking about alcohol on the playground. Singing about it. Sharing family practices. You know. My mom has a glass of red wine at dinner, but only with red meat. My dad buys a 24 of beer every Friday, and it's gone by Sunday morning. The first time I raised my head to the conversation the boys were having a kid was describing his grandmother when she gets drunk.

This is 2011 folks. Sticking our parenting heads in the sand won't turn back time. Personally, I think it's pretty avant-garde to talk to your kids about serious topics. Even if you're kid's an angel, going to the best school, in the best neighborhood this parent/kid dialogue needs to happen. Because kids need to be prepared. Information is power. As parents we might as well start cutting our teeth on these relatively simple conversations, about alcohol. Not just because it's our responsibility, but because the conversations about sexuality, sex, and drugs are right around the corner. And if you're reading this blog you have no excuse. You have access to the Internet, your family doctor, your kid's school, Kid's Help Phone. It's all there. Set the precedent now. Start talking.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think of myself as one of those 'older' parents who takes life too seriously. The truth be told the songs the boys were singing were kind of funny. The stories they were telling were cute. I didn't tell them to stop talking about alcohol. We all know the fastest way to get a kid to explore something is to forbid them to explore it. I just told them not to talk about it at the dinner table at a birthday party. Unfortunately, it was just at the point when the drunk grandmother story was headed toward hilarious. Maybe Thane knows the ending...?  I am not an 'older' parent. I just have a good memory. I can still remember being sixteen, pouring my Dad's whiskey into a Mason jar to take to a sleepover. I'll never forget it. Because my father will never let me forget it. I took the expensive stuff and left the cheap stuff for him. Now that was drama.

On Patience

So we're driving along in the Blue Bomb (my old minivan/mom taxi) and I hear my four year old in the back singing at the top of her lungs, "I am slowly going crazy. Six, five, four, three, two, one. Switch." She is very proud of herself. Counting backward is something we've been working on. However, I am a bit taken aback by her choice of song. Hmmmm. I do love that little ditty. Singing it under my breath has become something of a mommy chant. A mantra to get me through times of parental insanity. Although an accurate way to describe my level of patience at any given moment, probably not the best choice. Self-talk is pretty powerful. Given how often that song goes through my head in the run of a day I'll be certifiable in a few months. Time to pick another catchy tune. Fast.

Ever since I can remember I've been told I have no patience. After a while I started believing it. Then I started to fulfill the label. Impatience leads to frustration, anger, and mega stress. As a parent there are many fine threads that tie you to your sanity. Patience is one of them. Snip that thread and entire days can unravel. Who has time for that? I've had to develop my patience. I work on it everyday. Some days are a write off. Some days even the Johnson's baby body wash being slowly dribbled over the oscillating fan doesn't phase me. Even when the ensuing bubbles could bathe an entire elementary school.

I think one of the hardest lessons I've learned as a parent is, "This too shall pass." Your patience doesn't have to be infinite. It has to last through a moment. Unfortunately, if you string enough of these moments together you get a stage. Like the sleepless stage, or terrible twos, silly, lying, biting, hitting, kissing stages. You get the idea. Ugh. But moment by moment you deal with it all because you're a parent and unbeknownst to you it's what you signed up for. Patience comes and it goes. Some days you have an excess. Other days you time yourself out, run to your room, lay on the bed and cry. (Oh, I know you do it. We all do.)

The important thing is to focus on the in between times. You know what I'm talking about. There are minutes, even hours, in a day that don't require patience. When your six year old finally understands how much it hurts you (and him) when he lies. The first meal you eat in a restaurant with the whole family and no one snorts milk out their nose. The day your daughter realizes running into your arms when she's frustrated is better than screaming and stomping her feet. If you acknowledge success you'll actually find you have more patience. Simple, but true. Live the moments in between my friends. Have to go. I hear my husband's ring tone. Love that catchy tune. Alvin and the Chipmunks singing, "We Are Family."

On Electronics and Kids

Here's a controversial parenting topic for you. Electronics and kids. How much is too much? And I'll start by saying whatever works for your family is what's right for you. I'll tell you the story of electronics and our family, and if you learn anything from our mistakes fantastic. If you think I'm an overbearing and controlling mom well, that's okay too. We're all in this parenting thing together. And the only thing we know for sure is that there is no one right answer for any one parenting problem.

The world is a much smaller place than when I was a kid. Information is accessible with a keystroke. Twelve year olds have smart phones. I get ticked if there isn't 'an app for that'. Unfortunately, as parents this means we're competing for our kid's attention. Remember the good old days when an adult used your full name and you thought you might pee your pant's because you were in so much trouble. Yeah. Those were the days. When Thane is on the computer I'd have a hard time getting him to hear me if the house was on fire, let alone just speaking his name. A year or so ago his teachers felt the same way. He was driving us all crazy. He was cranky, sullen, and belligerent. And his father and I had to find out why. His teacher's led us to believe he had Attention Deficit Disorder. Which led to doctor's appointments, and a negative diagnosis. Which led to everyone becoming even more frustrated.

It took a few months of examining our family system and our patterns to figure it out. Well, I discovered my kid was stressed and I was part of the problem. Interestingly enough the symptoms of stress are almost identical to ADD. What a kick in the pants that was. Here I was staying home with the little darlings. Their lives should have read like a freakin' Disney script. Cue the bunnies and butterflies. After all, how many of us have said, "If I wasn't working _____ would be so much better." Yeah right. No bunnies and butterflies here. So let's get back to this stress thing. How does a typically developing seven/eight year old get stressed? Seriously stressed. To the point that professionals would like to label him with a diagnosis.

Obviously everyday was different. But the important items on the 'good parenting' list were there. Snacks, meals, sleep, physical activity, concerned involved parents, stable family. All checked off the list. So why was our kid stressed? What was the problem? Why was he cranky, sullen and belligerent? It isn't easy to condense a kid's day into short sentences. So bear with me here folks. From here on in DS, TV, and computer will simply be referred to as 'electronics'.

I would feel guilty for getting Thane out of bed in the morning so I'd let him sleep until the last minute. After all he looked so sweet and peaceful. But then instead of getting dressed, having his breakfast or packing his bag he'd be using electronics. Already a half hour behind because he slept in he was now creeping up to forty-five minutes behind.

Off to a bad start at home, he had little energy to deal with what the day threw at him in school. By recess he's in trouble, and he just didn't care.

After school he hits the electronics, instead of having a snack, doing his homework or practicing guitar. Gets it done eventually, but it's a struggle. Later has a snack, thus disinterested in supper. Rushes out the door to sports because he just had to finish 'one more level'. Homework being put off after school means playing catch-up the next morning or skipping bath. Hectic evening leads us to believe he needs to unwind with his electronics. A little extra electronics causes him to stay up past his bedtime again. Which guilts me into letting him sleep in the next morning.

I'm sure you've gotten the point, but now I'm going to drive it home with some dialogue. As this is my blog I'm not presuming to bring Chris into it. It should be noted we are a 50/50 parenting team. However, Chris is at work long before I get the kids ready for school. This isn't pretty. But I'm being honest, so put your big girl panties on when you read it.

"Get up. We're already late. You shouldn't have stayed up so late last night."
"Get your clothes on NOW or I'm sending you to the bus stop like that!"
"You knew you had homework. You wrote it in your agenda. Why isn't it done? Indoor recess for you!"
"Eat something. We don't have time for this."
"Do you not have a watch? Use it!"
"Turn that thing off and get your coat on."
"Get off that computer and get to bed."
"I said NO YOUTUBE!"
"How did you get my password? What good are parental controls if you hack into the computer? I don't trust you anymore!"
"I said GET TO BED NOW!!!"
"Get up. We're already late..."

Now, let's remove the extraneous variable. Electronics. No more electronics during the school week. So simple. So effective. Like a small miracle. Amazing. Seriously. A new kid. A happy little boy. Sleeping when he should. Eating when he should. Playing, doing homework when it needs to be done. Electronics were taking up tiny bits of time. Fifteen minutes here. A half hour there. Making us late, and making us resentful. Keeping us from interacting. From talking. From sharing. From listening. All the important things little people need to thrive. And yes, the nagging and yelling settled down. Don't get me wrong. This is a loud house. Full of big, loud people. We yell upstairs. We yell downstairs. But there is a whole lot less yelling at each other.

We got our priorities straight. Should Thane have given up guitar over DS? Homework for computer? Sleep for TV? No way. I should be parenting my kid. Not the TV, DS or computer. Frankly, I just gave in to Thane's requests. Let him do what his friends were doing. What was I thinking? Thane still has his moments. He's a normal kid. He gets Wii, computer, DS and TV on the weekends. Unless he screws up, then we have something to bargain with. Remember, this is not the solution for every family. But, if you are having behaviour issues, controlling electronic usage might be the key.

As a parent take a look at everything you are competing against when you are trying to get your message, your values, your morals across to your kid. No matter what we do we can't bring back the good old days. They're gone. As parents we have to take responsibility. Very few kids have the restraint to self-monitor the time they spend using electronics, or the restraint to stay off sites they shouldn't be on. In a few years I'll be friends with my kids. Not today. Today, I'll proudly wear the label of overbearing and controlling mom.

On Self-Care

I know. I know. Overdone topic. Everybody is talking about going to the gym, personal trainers, hobbies, life style changes and the dreaded D-word. DIET. Frankly it's overwhelming. I don't know about you but I just want to throw out the magazines, turn off the TV and dig into a bag of Hershey's Chocolate Kisses. So much easier. Unfortunately I'm not getting any younger. And it seems the kids, I thought would get easier to physically manage as they got older, are worse than ever. Skating equipment outweighs that ridiculously expensive super, light-weight nine lbs stroller I lugged around for years. The dreaded Pack and Play was nothing compared to loading camping equipment for five people into a minivan. What's a diaper bag compared to the overnight bag a nine year old boy takes on a sleepover? Same thing. Take out soother, replace with hockey cards. Diapers to boxers. I'm still packing and lugging, and pushing, and lifting. Only everything has gotten heavier. Including my four year old daughter who happens to be the exact height and weight of the average seven year old. Seven year olds don't expect you to carry them to bed or lift them out of the tub though. Hence me staring at my forty-one year old reflection thinking if you're going to survive skating, tobogganing, chasing, running, lugging, and toting you better start listening to this self-care stuff and get with the program.

So I did what everyone of our age does. I picked up my smart phone and started a list. What can I do to look after myself? Then I realized how far down the wrong road I've travelled. In the past three years, since I've become a stay-at-home mom, I've given up going to the gym, getting my nails and hair done on a regular basis. The only clothes I wear are from big box stores. I no longer pick the food I eat. My meals are based on what the kids will eat. I have given up my hobbies, my interests, my entire identity. I became Ubermom. At least my definition of an Ubermom. I've been subconsciously trying to make up for all the days I missed being with the kids because of my past employment obligations. I let that guilt consume and reinvent me.

So who the hell is this new person? Do I even like her? Do I care enough about her to even take on the idea of self-care? Here's an example of how far I've let things go. I made myself put together a grocery list of food that I like and I compared it to my typical weekly family grocery list. Not even close to the same. How guilty do you have to feel to not buy yourself a cucumber? Oh yeah. I'm in a bad place. But I'm crawling out. Life is about balance. I just happen to have slid way too far over into the, 'I'm going to be the best stay-at-home mommy ever' side of the page. I need to start finding myself again. So every great success story begins with a plan. Mine is slowly coming together. This thinking about yourself takes a lot of work.

First things first. I warned the troops. Mommy/wife is going to be making a few changes. Some of these changes will enter your airspace and possibly may make me unavailable to your every beck and call. Ahhhh. Even giving myself permission to be at times unavailable was refreshing. So, last weekend Chris took the kids skating for 2 hours by himself. Let's just say there was a little drama, but the survival rate was 100% so we'll consider the activity a success. I am now going to physio three times a week. By myself. Sans kids. This is an example of how desperate I am. I practically skip out the door to be physically tortured. Ahhhh. It's so quiet in the clinic.

I loaded my Ipod with music. When I put laundry away I plug it in to this phenomenal speaker system I bought Chris for his birthday (Who's a smart girl?). The first time I blasted my music Thane took the heat. Chris blamed him for breaking the sound barrier. Too bad Daddy-o. It was me. I had no idea how much I missed having my music in my life. Not the freakin' Itsy Bitsy Spider or Chicken Dance, but stuff I want to listen to. Self-care? You wanna believe it. It felt great. I slam dunked that laundry like there was no tomorrow.

Last week I bought a new yoga mat. My old one is packed with the camping supplies as an extra bedroll for whomever needs it. I needed it and couldn't find it. New mat and some new yoga and Pilate's DVDs later I'm all set. So today, Ava and I did yoga. Oh, and Barbie. Apparently she loves yoga. She does yoga naked, so it's a good thing I didn't bother getting a gym membership with yoga privileges. Barbie would have been uncomfortable. So, not only did I look after myself I set an example for Ava. Mommy takes care of herself. Mommy is worth it. And someday when you 're married with kids you'll look after yourself too.

I have a long way to go. I felt guilty buying a new sweatshirt this weekend. Three years ago I would have spent a whole paycheck in a clothing store and not thought twice. Oh how things change. My value, self worth, self confidence and self esteem are so entangled in my professional identity it will take me years to sort out the mess. But I'll be a better mom, a better wife, and a better me if I figure it out. Right now I think I'll have lunch. I bought a cucumber. No one likes them but me. Let's face it, nothing says, 'I'm worth it' like a toasted cucumber sandwich.

Thank You Readers!

Blog. What kind of word is that anyway? It's not a happy word. It doesn't connote something enjoyable is about to happen. You are about to read a blog. A what? Barf, slog, clog, fog. Nope. No feelings of enjoyment conjured up. I've had to explain, using my own limited understanding, to many a friend and family member, what a blog is. Simply a public electronic journal. A place to barf out my thoughts, slog through my problems, unclog my underutilized brain, while meandering through the fog of parenting three little darlings. Okay. Maybe blog is the right word.

When I took on blogging a few weeks ago I was using it as a creative outlet. I considered it an extension of Facebook. I love Facebook because I'm interested (read nosey), social, and given the fact I'm home all day with little people I have many quick opportunities to jump on my iPhone to see what's happening out there in the adult world. But I also love to talk. And I am a creative person by nature. Writing comes naturally to me. Especially conversational prose. So blogging has become something I really look forward to. It's fast. A post takes about 45 minutes including the time it takes to wipe a nose, pour a glass of milk, pull a Barbie out of the toilet, and pick crayon out of the dog's teeth. (I know you're jealous of my glamorous life of leisure. Get over it. In my world wine is known as Mommy Juice.) So blogging has become my new way to connect with the world, and I love it.

And can you believe it? In a little over three weeks I've had over a thousand page views. From all over the place. Hello UK, Angola, and Hong Kong. A lot of repeat offenders I know, but nonetheless I am very pleased. Afterall this is a blog, not a website. I've had a lot of positive comments and some constructive criticism too. I'm just glad you're all along for the ride with me. Pass on my link to anyone you think might enjoy a moment of parental commiseration, or would just like to laugh at our chronic insanity.

To celebrate a thousand page views, and this new found reason to give my 10 year old laptop to the kids and get a new one,  I've redesigned my blog. Just another simple template in an attempt to make it a bit easier to read. A bit brighter. I'm a sucker for bright colours and I get bored very easily. Playing around with my template saved me the hundred and seventy-five bucks it would have cost to change my hair colour. It's that time of year. Brown, blond, auburn who knows? Cheaper to go from coffee cup picture to blue stripe watermark.

Let me know what you think of the change. I'm open to suggestions for topics too. I have a list I update as the kids present interesting issues. But it might be personally enlightening to comment on someone else's parenting misery. Of course, I mean parenting challenges. I think we could have a laugh and learn something along the way. So a giant THANK YOU to all of you for using my blog as a way to avoid housework. I completely understand. I'll try to make sure you avoid tackling dust bunnies at least once a day. You never know, blog may become a happy word yet.