American Whitney

Oh dear. Everything seems to be happening on St Patrick’s Day. I’ll be at Wondercon that day, and already I’ve been invited to a baby shower and a birthday party. Not to mention that I’m missing Sportive Tricks in Long Beach. (Go, Southern California people, go!)

But I’m going to Wondercon. I’m going to make myself a Sith costume and I’m debating whether to go with a classic cloak or something a little less traditional.

Though that reminds me- I need to make a Vader costume for someone. Because this (as my friends pointed out) screams Casual Day on the Death Star.

It is official. The Little Kidlet has seen all of the original Star Wars trilogy. I’m still not entirely sure that he heard that Vader is Luke’s father… he might have been too busy lightsaber dueling with an invisible opponent.

He really did enjoy Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, though. He cheered when Palpatine was thrown into the reactor shaft. He had no real reaction to the Ewoks, but he did grab just about any toy and pretend they were speeder bikes.

His big brother was more interested in getting some computer time, since he knew he wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to play his roller coaster building program this week. Though he did manage to come into the end of Return of the Jedi (after missing all of ESB) and still miss that Vader was Luke’s father. He did know that Vader turned good at the end, but missed the rest. We’ll try again this week, I think.

I don’t think I ever really explained why I’ve been so eager to make sure both boys saw the original trilogy. Aside from the fact that I’m a big Star Wars fan, I had a feeling that they’d enjoy the movies as well as Episode One (TheBoy and I agreed that Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith are just too dark for the boys). And come on- lightsabers are just fun.

But really, I wanted my boys to have the chance to experience one of the great surprise twists of the movie world. They’re still young enough that they didn’t actually know who Darth Vader is, especially since they mostly played with each other and I’ve sworn my family and the in-laws not to spoil them.

Why? It was something that I didn’t get to have. Empire Strikes Back was released the year I was born. I literally grew up with kids who had older siblings who just told them that Vader was Luke’s father. I hadn’t even seen the movie yet and exactly how James Earl Jones said it.

I know lots of people who started their kids watching the Star Wars movies with The Phantom Menace, since it’s now the starting point of the Star Wars trilogy. But I would argue that the prequels are only effective if you’ve already seen the original trilogy. You get the added dimension of knowing that this is a tragic tale from the start. You know that Anakin is going to turn to the Dark Side and that Obi-Wan didn’t see it coming. You know that the Republic will fail. And you get to see the hints of what’s to come.

I did go see The Phantom Menace in 3D with TheBoy weekend before last. I know, many people will say that I’m simply enabling George Lucas- but really, the Star Wars movies are meant to be seen on the big screen. And Phantom Menace was a lovely 3D conversion. It was done to be immersive (more so than say Alice in Wonderland, which was also a nicely done 3D conversion… but pretty pointless in the end), and the podrace and lightsaber duel/triad was pretty dang spectacular.

No, Jar Jar doesn’t improve with age. There were a lot of twenty-somethings in the theater with us, and I was practically appalled by how much they laughed at Jar Jar. But then, I see people my age and how fond they are of Ewoks… and it’s basically the same thing. When you see it as a kid, it grows on you. (Unless you’re me. I never liked Ewoks. They had these terrifyingly large soulless eyes. I was more a droid girl from the start)

For goodness sake, they wanted to EAT Luke & Han.

I’ve gotten a little off track, but I’m looking forward to when the original trilogy is back in theaters, so I can take the kidlets to see Star Wars as it was meant to be seen. On a giant screen.

Back when I was a teenager and talking back to my mom, I said something about when I had kids, I’d be nothing like her.

She told me that I’d wind up with a kid like myself. I rolled my eyes.

Thankfully, that comment stuck in the back of my head, and I wondered if it was actually true. So as I got older, I watched kids and parents. By the time I was in college, it seemed obvious that the most volatile relationships were between the parent and child with the most similar personalities. (I feel bad for my mom. My sister and I are both like her, in mostly different ways. So she had to deal with the both of us)

So when the boys were born, I watched and wondered who they would be like. It was clear very early on that not only did the Oldest Kidlet look a lot like me, but that he was a lot like me, too.

He whines. Constantly. As a kid, my mom used to joke that it was because my name is “Whiney, but with a t in it.” He also has a short temper- which I did as well. I know that might come as a surprise to some of you, but it was something that my parents worked with me on. He is a perfectionist. Oh, is he a perfectionist.

Not that long ago we were doing the weekly word quiz, and the words have gotten progressively harder. We reviewed some of the tough new words he had on his list. Like “who” and “why” – words that don’t seem to follow the spelling and sound rules he’s used to. But we missed one. We hit that word in the quiz (which is a one-minute timed quiz) and he stopped and eventually got the word, but it ate up a good 15 seconds of time. So he didn’t make it through the words, and it became the end of the world.

After a lot of screaming (from both of us), I finally helped him understand that this test is just about training you to read faster, not about how many words you can read. I wanted to tell him I thought it was stupid, but decided not to- but I understood exactly why he was upset. I’d been in his position before.

I hope you don’t think I’m trying to make the case that it’s all bad. It isn’t. But when it’s bad… it’s beyond bad. Most of the time we get along well. We read books together that we both enjoy, and we have a lot of the same interests.

All the same, I’m very glad that the Little Kidlet and I don’t have much in common personality-wise. (Though we do have one very important thing in common. We love Star Wars, especially Darth Vader.

Oh, and Mom, I’m glad that I’m a lot like you. You were (and are) a great parent, even if I didn’t see it all of the time.

If you’ve been lurking around the internet this week, odds are you’ve seen the article “French Parents are Superior” in which Pamela Druckerman claims to have found the secret to raising obedient children.

It’s the latest in a long line of books and posts that try to say you’re doing it wrong. They don’t necessarily give you any useful tips. Mostly it’s just anecdote after anecdote of children who behave wonderfully as some sort of proof that those parents magically have all the answers.

Josette from Halushki made an impressive list of other groups of parents who are better than you, too. (#99 is the group that frustrates me the most, I admit)

I admit, while the French ideal shown in the article sounds attractive- it also sounds a little lonely. I adore adult time, but nothing quite compares with playtime with my kids. Most of the time, I’d rather be out on the playground with them than chatting with the parents who sit on the sidelines watching their children hog the slide and steal toys from other kids. I admit that my parenting technique isn’t perfect, but nobody’s is- even those seemingly “perfect parents.”

That is why I’m involved with Imagination Situation- aiming to add imagination to your arsenal of parenting tools. One more thing to help you weather all sorts of situations. (I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but this is one of the big things I’m working on this year) My childhood was filled with hours of playtime. Adventures in the backyard either hunting for fairies or pretending I was a naturalist cataloging an undiscovered land. I’d pretend my bicycle was my trusty palomino and we were out riding through the desert. Yes, my sister and I even used to pretend that our room came to life when we were cleaning, just like in Mary Poppins. Yet somehow I forgot about all of that imagination as soon as I became a parent. Seems pretty silly, doesn’t it?

Nobody’s a perfect parent. We all have our faults. So why not accept that we’re not perfect, and try to make life a bit more fun?

Have something to add? Please comment on this post, and join in on the Imagination Situation fun on Twitter and Facebook, and of course the website. (I really believe in this project, can you tell?)

I admit, I’m not the strictest of parents. While I don’t put up with a lot of whining, I have not made a firm stance against messes. I was a kid once, I know that messes are part of playtime. Of course, I’m a bit of a slob myself, and admit that I don’t necessarily have the urges to clean constantly.

As a result, neither of my boys likes to clean up much and I usually have to fight with them to clean up after themselves. We’ll have a couple of good days where they’ll pick up as they play, and then forget the rules and things get messy again.

However, I’ve been trying to get the boys to help more. They’re four and six, and when I was finally able to get the Little Kidlet to join in when I was cleaning I knew that I needed to make them pull their weight a little bit.

So I made a chart. Where I could draw stars on it, and when they got up to 10 stars they could pick a prize from our treasure box. It has Hot Wheels, pencils, stickers. Nothing expensive, but definitely fun.

We weren’t making much headway… but then I got to take Sunday off for my birthday. TheBoy and I went out (more on that another day), but when I came home, I was told that the boys both earned stars for cleaning. Not just their toys, but their bedroom as well.

The next morning, the Oldest Kidlet made his bed. Today, both of them made their bed! Weirdly, they didn’t insist that I immediately give them a star for doing this… I know I make a lot of references to the looking glass, but today I definitely feel like I’ve gone through the Looking Glass.

Just as a recap, I have two boys. The Oldest Kidlet (6) talks a mile a minute. The Little Kidlet (4) is much quieter, and usually only talks if he’s really excited, playing, or wants something.

I’ve been using LK’s quiet nature to help keep secrets and to save time during my day. After I picking up LK from preschool, if I’m too tired to make lunch I’ll go ahead and pick up fries for him and a burger for me. I know that he won’t tell his brother (getting what happened at school out from him takes some interrogation), so I don’t have to worry about one brother freaking out because the other brother got something else.

Well, up until yesterday, that was the case.

Yesterday, I picked up fries for the Little Kidlet and a soda for me. We drove home, he ate his fries and life was great.

Then we went to pick up his brother. I was worried the car might smell like fries, but I didn’t think so, and off we went to collect the Oldest Kidlet.

Nothing was said about the smell of fries, and we pulled into our driveway. As I put the car in park, the Little Kidlet said, “I had some fries today.”

The Oldest Kidlet looked at me. “I knew the car smelled like something delicious. You didn’t get me fries? This isn’t faaaaiiiiiiiir.”

“No,” I deadpanned. “He said we have a surprise for you today.” He didn’t buy it- he speaks LK better than anyone in this house.

Needless to say, I’m not going to be picking up lunch for the two of us anymore. I’m fairly certain that the days of the Little Kidlet keeping quiet are over, and I doubt it’ll be any time soon that the Oldest Kidlet will realize that he has it a lot easier than his brother. Oh well.

Why yes. I do like my weekly burger.

I dread Thursday afternoons. You see, the Oldest Kidlet has a homework packet that’s due every Friday. One of the pages is a quiz page. You set a timer for a minute and see how much your child can read in both words and numbers. (Actually, he’s in the advanced group, so he gets words. I believe it’s letters and small words for the rest of the class)

OK is a perfectionist. When he sets out to do something, he wants to get it right. Every new batch of words, he expects to know them all. This wasn’t a problem when the words were short. He flew through those. But now we have longer words (this week’s batch included because, there, their and words with lots of silent letters. Like know), and it’s difficult to get through them all. Which usually leads into a full on meltdown.

This week he made it through half of them. The timer went off and he looked at me, smiling. Smiling!

“That’s pretty good, if you ask me.” Then he picked up his pencil. “And I didn’t even cry.”

Of course, that feeling of pride didn’t last too long. No long after, he and his brother were trading blows over a booklet from a LEGO set that he had stolen from his little brother. You can’t win them all.

Yesterday was a rough day for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, the boys decided to be difficult. The Oldest Kidlet wanted to sit down to do his homework, but wasn’t focusing on anything. This isn’t entirely new, minimum days at school tend to be rough on all of us. I get tired constantly running around, and the Oldest Kidlet gets thrown off by having one less hour of school.

That’s right, when most kids are excited about that hour less of school, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It took a lot of coaxing and an extra hour for us to get through our homework. Just in case you think it was because we just got back to school, we did the same amount of work the day before in half the time.

As if that wasn’t enough to make my day rough, I spent yesterday reading links on building successful social media brands and mostly I walked away feeling like I’m failing in who I am.

I’m one person. I’m a mom, a geek and a writer. Is it weird that I try to be all these things in one blog, or is it just too scattered to keep interest? Every single story I read said that it’s just too much for one site.

I keep trying to tell myself that this is just my own anxiety at work, which is a problem I have. So realistically, I can be me. It’s my blog after all. I am who I am, and I need to accept it.

I’ve never been a person with one main interest. In high school I either wanted to be an actress or a coroner. In college, it shifted to computer programming or theater- though theater dropped away when I realized every theater degree needed me to spend all my free time crewing shows instead of working at my job.

Yes, I’m a mom. But I’m a writer and a social media junkie. I cook, too, and all that’s here. I’m also dealing with social anxiety, but that’s all here too as well. So tell me… who else here has a hard time picking one thing to be when they grow up?

Well, at least on the blog.

Things have been hectic at home. We’re in week #1 of Winter Break- the Oldest Kidlet gets three weeks off of school. Add in the fact that Christmas is Sunday, and… well, things are crazy.

Last Sunday, I had horrible stomach cramps and had to lie down. So TheBoy made Turtle Bread (bread that is shaped like a turtle, not made with) with the Oldest Kidlet. Monday, we ran errands, saw Santa, and broke out watercolors for the boys to paint with. Tuesday we… oh, I can’t remember what made Tuesday special. You see, the Oldest Kidlet wants to get the most out of his vacation, so he’s been looking for exciting things to do. Tuesday we hung out in pajamas, painted, and the boys ran around in the backyard.

Today they slept in. Until 7:20 am. Yes, that’s sleeping in around here- usually I’m lucky if it’s 6 am when they get up. I got up, went to the bathroom and when I peeked in, they were still sleeping. So I climbed back in bed and played on my phone. When I heard them awake, I opened the door. “Mommy, I’m awake!” said the Little Kidlet, excited and perky in the way that he gets when he’s had enough time to wake up on his own. “Mommy, can we go to the zoo today,” the Oldest Kidlet whined.

I did a double take. You see, we’re going to the zoo tomorrow with my parents. I hadn’t mentioned it to the kids, because I didn’t want to hear about it all week long- but it’s like he knew. Almost. After arranging the time with my parents, I told him. He squealed and sat down to play. “Well, we don’t have to do anything exciting today, Mommy. Pajamas and painting is fine for today.” Good.

I was good and got a head start with Christmas shopping. I had all but 4 gifts picked out. I needed to buy gifts for my parents, and well, the boys wouldn’t tell us what they were going to ask Santa for. So we had to wait for that. One blurted out his list to Santa, and I had to translate. The other whispered it so quietly that it took 5 times for me to figure out what he was trying to say. The good news is that I’m officially finished with gifts as of today. I just have to wrap them all. (I still have to buy the food for the holiday meal for Little Kidlet. While I’ve been cleared to eat normal food, this kid is still going to have meals on Christmas Eve and Christmas. That I’m going to make sure of.)

I’ve also been writing, which might be why I haven’t blogged much. Most of my brain is wrapped up in this plot and trying to get it finished by my birthday so that I can get back to my novel. Out out random bit of fiction.

Here’s to hoping that this holiday filled week finds everyone well!

Tonight as I was scrolling through Google+, I saw a person comment that if they had money they’d start a company to make sure that if a kid were to Google “Is Santa Real?” that they’d get back a site that said yes.

There were a lot of +1′s, but a few people tried to shame parents for lying to their children or for promoting a religion those, and some assumed that if your kids believe in Santa that you’re bribing them to behave.

And it made me sad.

I was probably about 8 when I found out Santa wasn’t real. I don’t remember how I found out (some childhood memories of mine are hazy), but it was probably from my friends- I was the youngest in my grade. My sister was younger than I was when she found out, and broke my mom’s heart when she said “Santa’s really more of a spirit in all of us.”

This didn’t stop us from enjoying Santa. We still left out cookies, and we still got gifts from Santa. I think that largely had to do with us spending Christmas with our younger cousins… but Santa was fun. As we got older, we didn’t get big gifts from Santa, but the stockings were filled with small items that my Mom knew would make us smile. We were all excited to have a plate for Santa when my kids were born. It didn’t matter than my one year old was too young to care why we were putting cookies on a plate.

One year my sister (who was going back to Japan) got a stocking filled with tampons. I’ve gotten sewing kits, Jelly Bellys, and Indiana Jones playing cards. I’ve hidden ornaments, candy I’ve bought, bookmarks…

My little sister was right. Santa is a spirit in us- I see it each year. There’s something magical in being able to give someone a small gift that didn’t cost much, but means a lot.

So yes, my kids believe in Santa. They believe in the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny (though admittedly, I didn’t encourage those. They heard about the Tooth Fairy from Super Why and the Easter Bunny popped up in the Santa Clause sequels). You might think it’s damaging to let my kids believe in something that isn’t real- but Santa isn’t just about getting gifts. It’s about a spirit of giving. It’s about love. It’s about embracing the wonder that comes with being a child. Honestly, I’m trying to avoid the bribing my kids to be good. My parents didn’t really hold that over our heads- in fact we sort of make fun of that mentality. While at Disneyland some time ago, we saw a mother point out a visible ride monitor and tell her child that Mickey was watching. The child was terrified.

As a kid, I believed in a lot of things that I knew weren’t real, if that makes sense. I knew that fairies weren’t really here or there, cajoling flowers to open- but I still clapped every time a productions of Peter Pan asked the audience to clap if we believe in fairies.

A lot of people believe it’s wrong to lie to kids. But I’d say that the ability to believe in magic outweighs it. Oddly, it was my belief in things like a man being able to fly around the world in one night that led me to science. I learned about how fast people can actually travel, and found that fascinating. In reading about the Nativity Story, it led me to learn about planetary alignments that seem to form a giant star in the sky (that being what scientists think was the explanation for the star the Magi saw)- and that’s fascinating too. And in my search for fairies, I learned so much about nature that when I accepted that they weren’t really real… I didn’t mind. Believing in the extraordinary taught me about embracing wonder and joy. Two things that have kept my mind curious to this day.

The world is an ugly place. Why not let kids be kids and have imaginary friends, believe in Santa, and enjoy hunting for mythical creatures that don’t exist? It’s that curious nature that makes inventors, artists, and other dreamers of the world. We should embrace it.

Non-parents, I apologize. Nobody really wants to read about potty training. So feel free to skip this post.

In the past I’ve talked about the Little Kidlet, and his stubbornness when it came to potty training. Yes, he’s four and still wears pull ups*. While he went through the motions in his class, he made it clear (with tantrums) that he wanted nothing to do with the bathroom here. And his teacher advised us to try, but not to force him. Because it’s not that he doesn’t understand, or is afraid… he just doesn’t want to do it. Since it’s a control issue, it had to be his idea.

My mom told me to keep doing that, but to keep finding new things to bribe him with. She said that every kid had their price. I was just lucky that the Oldest Kidlet’s price was cheap (yay Hot Wheels!).

I’d tried everything. Hot Wheels. Didn’t work. I withheld a birthday present that he’d been especially excited to play with. Didn’t work either. I actually gave him that when we weren’t sure if he’d actually peed in the toilet or not, and from then on, he just wanted cars for it (it was a Color Change carwash). That’s what finally worked.

Last night thought, I was running low on cars. I asked if he wanted a Skittle. “No, Skittle.” I asked if he’d want a toy from the treasure box. “No treasure.” I asked if he’d use the potty for a cookie. “A cookie? YES!” Then he jumped off the couch and ran into the bathroom. And he went! As excited as he was about that, he was way more excited about the cookie.

I know that we still have a long road ahead of us. But at least we’re moving.

*For those new to this blog, we held off potty training the Little Kidlet when he was 1 1/2-2 because he didn’t talk much. He just didn’t want to talk, so there was no real way to get him to acknowledge that he had to go. Then, once he did talk… he went from mild mannered to a Hulkling at the mere mention of the bathroom.