Doo dee doo dee doooo
We still don't have any details about my sister, although they say tomorrow mid-day. So ahoy then, tomorrow it is. Moving right along.
Today, let's talk about my kids, because I haven't really mentioned the little dears for a while.
My oldest is 10 and a half now, and at the rate she is growing this year, I expect she will meet my height and pass it before summer. She's bright, funny, and artistic. She devours books, and has taught herself how to animate her artwork online. She's also frequently (if moderately) disrespectful, stubborn and moody. She drags her feet on her school work, and drags out her homework to painful lengths. She can be rude, and downright jerky to her siblings. She's got bershon DOWN.
I expect I've met my match. No, seriously. She's totally 10-year-old me. Except taller. Knowing ALL the words to this particular ditty, you would think I'd have the upper hand on celebrating the good and redirecting the not-so good parts of her personality and behavior, but instead I seem to missing my cues, and instead of smoothly turning her and steering her gracefully across the floor, we're fighting over the lead and stepping on each other's insteps.We talk it to death, and offer positive reinforcement. We take away favorite activities until schoolwork is caught up, if we determine that time wasting is the culprit. We emphasize the need for respect of all others (including and especially her siblings) and try to model that.
Apparently, I'm a rude jerk sometimes, and maybe my sarcasm and sense of humor makes it seem okay to be curt with people who are our nearest and dearest. I would love to just be kind and loving and gentle, maybe like a Julie Andrews musical, where a stern face and a stick-to-it attitude are enough to redirect even the most wayward child, but alas, my Julie moments are few and far between these days.
Add to this the onrushing signs that puberty approacheth and I'm feeling like I brought a rubber chicken to a knife fight. At least rubber chickens are funny, right? And if you slap someone with one, it might temporarily stun them? (I'm so going to get shanked.)
My son is affectionate, adorable, and he never shuts up. I mean it. NEVER. He just talks and talks and talks and talks and when we ask him to stop, he doesn't. The monologue starts the second his eyes open, and continues until he falls asleep. What all could he possibly have to say? Have a listen! (if the video is hanging, turn off the HD :)
On and on, till the break of dawn. I'm beginning to understand how my daughter might get the idea that it is okay to be rude to her siblings because I've often had to flat out tell my son that I'm no longer listening, and also to SHUT UP OMG. Like a pinball, he merely changes course but keeps up the stream of words. I'm thinking of nicknaming him Professor, because seriously, he doesn't just talk. He pontificates.
And then, my youngest. She's just a little ray of sunshine... most of the time. She's totally me in the morning - growling and squinty and not ready to greet the day cheerfully - unless it is a weekend, when she could sleep late. No, on weekends, all three kids love to bounce out of bed by 6 am. That part isn't me at all. Never mind what I said earlier.
This littlest of Laucks is a total hoot. She's very precise in her speaking, and is loving learning to memorize and recite poems and plays for her first grade class. She likes to perform in a very low, almost inaudible voice, so that those of us she is gracing with her performance are forced to lean in very close and listen very hard. This is an excellent tool in her arsenal, made more useful because we genuinely do want to hear what she's trying to say.
This, of course, contrasts with if, say, I was to whisper at my kids when I really wanted them to listen. Who could hear me over my son's non-stop monologue. And also, they genuinely do NOT want to hear what I have to say, most of the time, unless it is "yes!" or "dinner!"
Now, for the adventure segment of this rambling, no point entry...
I, alone, with no premeditation, took my three kids to get their first-ever flu shots. My mother-in-law told my husband that we needed to get it done or she couldn't sleep at night (or maybe she wasn't that dramatic, but let's pretend she was, because it makes the story better.)
With no advance planning, I tossed the kids in the car and drove to the clinic where they were doing the vaccinations. I told the kids they would be getting the up the nose mist stuff (which at this point in the proceedings, I believed to be true) and we got in line. As we made our way to the head of the line, we started to hear the wails of unhappy children getting the shots. And then we were informed that we could get the H1N1 flu-mist stuff, but they would need a shot for the regular flu. I told my oldest, thinking that she could hold herself together.
"Pssst," I said. "It sounds like you guys are going to get a shot, and the nose stuff. Don't freak out your siblings."
At which point, she burst into noisy tears and announced "MOM! YOU PROMISED WE WERE NOT GOING TO GET SHOTS!"
As Jenny on the Spot would say (although not in a sarcastic way) - this situation was made of awesome.
We finally made it to the head of the line, with my 10-year-old, almost-as-tall-as-me daughter blowing and snorting and eyes rolling like an overworked horse. I got a shot first, and then pulled my youngest onto my lap.
The lady took one look at her skinny little arms and said - let's do her leg. I worked her leggings down over her narrow hips and my son yelled "I can see your buuuuu-utt."
Then my daughter saw the needle and proceeded to freak the heck out. Between me and the injection nurse, we got her taken care of, and set her hiccuping, snivelling buns to the side. My son plopped down on the chair, and despite whining, got the shot with no problem.
Time for the big girl. She bawled "NOOOOOO" and planted her feet and leaned as hard as she could away from me, and suddenly I felt like I was wrestling an alligator. I tried to invite her into the chair, but she wasn't going. I tried to reason with her for like 20 seconds, and then decided brute force was called for, and plunked my own self down on the chair, with her trapped in my lap. After she started elbowing and clawing the air, a nice doctor came by and helped me restrain her, so she didn't punch me or the lady doing the shots.
After the shot was done, she was like, "Oh. That wasn't anything bad."
I made her apologize to the nurse, and thank the doctor for his help. Grrrr.
All three kids did the nose mist stuff with no problems (surprisingly) and then we headed to the frozen yogurt place for a little celebratory shot survival treat.
The best part? All three kids get a second dose of the nose one in 28 days, so we get to do it all again. WHEEEEE!
(At least it isn't the shots again.)