The Dangers of Blogging

I started blogging just over a month ago, and while I have really enjoyed it thus far, I recently discovered its inherent dangers. LJ and Julianna now insist on "helping" me write my posts.

As I was working on my most recent post, Julianna climbed into my lap and said: "Mama, I'm going to help you write your blog!"

I tried to write as she sat with me, but when she started reading aloud every word I typed, my mind started to go blank. And then, when she began to finish my sentences for me, I'd had enough.

We compromised. I let Julianna choose the photos for the post, but I told her she cannot watch me while I write.

LJ has also provided his own brand of assistance. He quickly caught on to the fact that I usually blog based on something he or Julianna says. Keeping that in mind, he is now trying to feed me material for my posts.

LJ and I attended a Ravenscroft vs. North Raleigh Christian Academy basketball game a couple of nights ago. NRCA has one kid who is a terrific shooter and averages around 27 points per game. I told LJ before the game to keep an eye on #2 ... that he can really score.

After #2 drained a couple of jumpers early in the second half, LJ said, completely deadpan: "I see why you were talking about that guy, Mom. I think he's good enough to be the worst player in the NBA."

After I stopped laughing, I told LJ how funny that was. To which he replied: "You need to write about what I said in your blog."

And he wasn't kidding.

He told me the same thing a couple of more times during the second half of the game.

Then, when we got in the car to head home, he told me to use my iPhone to blog about it.

And during the last 36 hours, he has reminded me of it at least a dozen more times.

One positive and unintended consequence of blogging is that I do find myself listening more closely to the kids. I don't want to miss any of their witticisms ... or bombshells for that matter.

When we were fixing Julianna's hair earlier this week, it was full of static and standing on end.

"Mama, I don't know why my curls are so ecstatic this morning!" she said.

In the past, I might have just smiled at her mistake and quickly forgotten it.

But instead, I asked her if I had heard her correctly.

"Yes, Mama! My hair is all ecstatic and crazy -- just look at it!"

So I did. On Julianna's advice, I paused a moment to look at her "ecstatic" hair. But more importantly, I took a moment to listen too.

While blogging with my kids nearby is at times a bit risky, the perils are easily outweighed by the benefits.

All those cute, funny, and memorable moments I've never put down in a scrapbook before? Blogging gives me the perfect place to file them away for safe keeping.

And, besides, it's a lot easier than using scalloped-edge scissors, craft glue, and decorative stickers.

Sibling Rivalry, Sumo Style

It seems that long breaks from school bring out the best and worst in LJ and Julianna's relationship. I spent most of this morning running interference and trying to stop them from playing games like "King of the Bed," "Kiddy Sumo Wrestling," and "Dragging Each Other Around by the Legs."

After four days of winter break, they quickly moved from playing board games to playing bored games. The kind that inevitably end in finger pointing and name calling.

Most of the time the kids get along really well. Of course there are moments when they tease and provoke each other, but I do believe that LJ and Julianna love each other very much (even if LJ would never admit it).

One hallmark of their relationship is how much Julianna looks up to her big brother. And she truly relishes the opportunity to be LJ's wingman.

She is the Teller to his Penn ... the Minnie to his Mickey ... the Pippin to his Jordan.

No doubt there is a healthy dose of sibling rivalry between the two. But no matter how many wedgies or wet willies LJ delivers, Julianna grins and bears it with undying devotion.

Today, during a game of Sorry!, LJ tackled Julianna when she knocked his piece back to start. No lie ... he actually clocked her with the full weight of his 76 pounds and left her lying prone and stunned on the carpet.

Her reaction? She popped up and started laughing. And she didn't flinch when, on LJ's next move, he sent her piece right back to start too. She just smiled and said, "Good move, Jack!"

I had the same kind of "need to please" my brother, TJ, who is four years older than me. TJ and I had (and still have) a great relationship, but that doesn't mean that he didn't pick on me from time to time.

LJ and Julianna love to hear the story about when TJ tricked me into eating canned dog food by telling me it was sausage from the pizza our mom was making.

I share that story (and others) with them because I think it's important for them to know that even the most loving brothers and sisters are going to get on each other's nerves.

It's okay that they get frustrated with each other on occasion. What matters is that they weather the storm and settle their differences ... however that may be.

And if settling it for LJ and Julianna means a little more Kiddy Sumo Wrestling, that's just fine by me.

I'm just getting the heck out of the way before they throw down.

College Counseling for Kindergarteners

Today I was in the car with LJ, Julianna, and their friend, Julianna. (I'll refer to her hereafter as Jules to avoid any confusion).

I could hear the girls in the third row of my SUV whispering and giggling (about boys I presume). And then, in a change of topic that was completely random, Julianna announced, "I may or may not go to college when I grow up."

Jules replied: "What are you talking about? You have to go to college or you can't get a job."

"I don't have to go if I don't want to," said Julianna.

"But how are you going to make any money if you don't get a job?" asked Jules.

And then LJ piped in, "DUH!"

LJ's comment quickly squelched the conversation. But why were a 6-year-old and two 8-year-olds even discussing their college plans? And how is it possible that the two second-graders have already determined that college is not a choice, but a requirement?

Well, it's actually not that shocking if you consider the environment in which most of our kids grow up.

We start looking for that competitive edge the moment our kids are conceived.

I remember reading to LJ months before he was born. I took Julianna to Kindermusik classes when she couldn't even crawl. LJ started playing YMCA soccer and basketball when he was 3 years old. And Julianna was on the fast track to being an Olympic gymnast until she broke her collarbone shortly before her fourth birthday.

Seriously. I put my kids through all those things. And while I'm sure it was enriching for them on some level (except for maybe the in utero bedtime stories), it was more about me than it was about them.

Given that I (and many other parents) have programmed my children from an early age to give it their all ... shoot for the stars ... take no prisoners ... it comes as no surprise that pre-teens are now plotting their paths to job security.

And maybe that's okay. It has become so difficult to get into the nation's top colleges that any edge we can give our kids may benefit them in the long run.

If my children need that extra little push to get them to the front of the line, then I'm happy to be the Mom who shoves the kid in front of them out of the way.

But all kidding aside ... let's not fool ourselves. It might be cute right now that Julianna doesn't want to go to college because she "never wants to leave Mommy and Daddy," but it won't be nearly as adorable when she turns 18.

Part of my job as a parent is to guide my children toward that next step ... whether it's college or something else. It's in their best interests - and mine - to encourage them however I can.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to help LJ finish editing his college essays. You wouldn't believe the grammatical errors that kid is making.

Planes, Trains, and Night Lights

As I was scrubbing some pots and pans today, Julianna said (with awe in her voice), "Mama, a long time ago they didn't have dishwashers!"

Her observation prompted a long conversation about all of the modern conveniences we take for granted ... all those our ancestors lived without.

I answered her questions about airplanes, trains, microwaves, cars, refrigerators, televisions, magic markers, light bulbs, CD players, and even tee pees.

Then I asked Julianna to choose just ONE thing she absolutely, positively could not live without.

I thought she would say the computer, her mp3 player, or maybe even the toaster (because you can never underestimate the importance of Daddy's famous cinnamon sugar bread every morning).

But she didn't choose any of those things, and her answer surprised me.

She said: "I would choose my night light. Because I can't fall asleep without it."

The childlike simplicity of Julianna's answer caught me off guard and got me thinking about which one creature comfort I would choose above all others.

And I quickly narrowed it down ... to around 10 things (hey, YOU try choosing just one).

Two of the highest-ranking items on my top 10 list were indoor plumbing (no explanation needed) and a clothes dryer ... because I once went a week without one and my clothes felt like cardboard.

Why is it that my 6-year-old daughter is so much easier to please than I am? Why is a night light all she really needs to make her happy?

Is it that I'm getting old?
Julianna would say yes.

Maybe I'm just high-maintenance?
My parents would say yes.

Could it be I'm just plain spoiled?
My husband would take the fifth.

So how can I help Julianna and LJ avoid the same fate? How do I help my children stay relatively easy-to-please -- so much so that all they really need is a metaphorical night light?

Well, my hunch is that it may already be too late to save them.

As LJ and I were watching the NBA Slam Dunk contest on our DVR tonight (another thing that made my top 10 list of "must haves,"), he saw one of the basketball stars flash his expensive-looking cell phone at the TV camera.

LJ stood up, pointed at the screen and screamed: "So what! Who cares? Why would I be jealous of that? My Mom has an iPhone!"

Did I mention that made my list too?

Forever in Blue Jeans

Julianna's Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Rodruan, pulled me aside this morning - big smile on her face - and said the words every parent dreads: "I just have to tell you what your daughter said about you!"

My heart went into my throat and my mind began racing. What had I done? How bad was it? Had my sweet little girl sold me down the river?

I instantly flashed back to when LJ was 3 years old and his pre-school teacher said the exact same thing to me.

In LJ's case, he had declared to both of his teachers: "My mom is lazy!"

There was a perfectly good explanation why he said that ... it had to do with a conversation he and I had about the way I made grilled cheese sandwiches. (Strange but true). I don't think his teachers bought my excuse. They had a great laugh over it and I was mortified.

I realize that teachers hear gems like that all the time. They spend as many hours with our children as we do. They probably know all sorts of "secrets" about our families and undoubtedly hear daily tales of our bad habits and ill-tempered outbursts.

Kids are pretty transparent with their emotions and in a safe haven like school, those feelings and experiences often bubble to the surface. I'm guessing that show-and-tell in Kindergarten can quickly become an impromptu therapy session.

So, today, when I heard those frightening words again from Julianna's teacher, I couldn't help but be nervous.

According to Mrs. Rodruan, the kids were drawing pictures of what they would look like when they turned 100 years old.

As Julianna created her likeness, she explained to Mrs. Rodruan that, when she turns 100, she will wear only wear blue jeans because "when I get old that's all I will want to wear -- like my Mommy."

Pfffffffftttt...

That's the sound of the wind being taken out of my sails.

It wasn't the blue jeans part that stung. That part is absolutely true. But old?

I needed clarity. Does she really see me as old?

I know I'm not the coolest mom in the world, but I like to think that at the very least, my kids see me as "young at heart."

Tonight, I gave Julianna a chance to redeem herself ... or at least give my ego a little boost.

"Tell me about the picture you drew at school, Julianna. What did your picture of you at 100 years old look like?"

"Well," she said, "I had gray hair. And I was wearing pants. Actually they were jeans."

I am a glutton for punishment, so I poked the stick at the hornet's nest and asked her, "Why jeans?"

"Because old people like you wear blue jeans all the time."

Pfffffffftttt...

Whatever little bit of air was left in my sails was now gone.

My daughter does indeed see me as old. Her perception is my reality.

But instead of focusing on the negative, I should really look on the bright side. I suppose it could have been much, much worse.

She could have called me old and lazy.