This Episode Brought to You By the Letters C, F, and G

So I've had some really wonderfully productive days lately. I can't take credit for the productivity. As with Sesame Street, I must give credit to the sponsors in my life that have made this productivity possible. 

I'm almost ready for the baby. I still need to pack overnight bags for myself and the girls. But other than that, we're good. I made a freezer meal tonight. After making a respectable dinner with leftovers. And got yogurt started. Last week, I disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled a carseat and a bassinet. I washed and folded a newborn wardrobe. I re-organized the basement a bit and put away some things in our bedroom to make room for the bassinet. I bought school shoes for HeyMama today. And a gift for BestestHusband's birthday. And we girls did some fun things, too. We went to the circus yesterday. We spent a lot of the morning at the playground and riding bikes. And I still managed to keep everyone sort of fed and clothed, and I still took my afternoon naps. I'm pretty happy with how it's all been going.

But I must give credit where credit's due:

The letter C:  Caffeine. I've tried giving it up in the past. I was even successful from time to time. But lately, I've gone back to it. In small amounts. But it's been crucial in motivating me to stay off the couch. Let's face it. I've never been much of a morning person. And kids typically are. So we have an inherent miss-match of natural states. I just need a bit of caffeine in the morning to get things going. And when I do, we get going and get stuff done. So thank you, caffeine.

The letter F:  Friends. The carseat that I cleaned is from a friend (thanks Joy!). The bassinet that I cleaned is from a friend (thanks Jen!). And the reason that I had time to clean them? A friend took the girls to the zoo for me on Friday morning (thanks Anne!) and took over my preschool music time duties for me this morning (thanks Anne!). We had an invite and encouragement to go to the circus yesterday with friends (thanks Jackie!), which was a fun excursion. The days have passed quickly and happily thanks to friends. And passing the last few days of a pregnancy, especially happily, is quite a feat. So thank you, friends. 

The letter G:  Grace of God. I've been quite healthy this pregnancy. The girls have been healthy. Life has been calm and free from crisis. This is all beyond my control. I've been shockingly patient over the last few days, especially today. As I was trailed through the grocery store by a tantrumming 4.5 year old today screaming about a cookie that she wanted, then didn't want, then wanted again, then didn't want, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, I don't have the sudden urge to dropkick her off the back porch, despite a morning of whining and complaining. I'm remarkably calm." I can tell you that this was the Grace of God in action. That was not my deep reserve of patience in action there. I don't have a deep reserve of patience on my own. I'm usually struggling to not totally lose my shite when the girls are being jerks in public. I did not struggle today. It just happened. That was God in action, not me. So thank you, God.

We're plugging along. I'm at 38 weeks and counting. We'll take a belly shot soon. Poor 3rd kid, I don't have any pregnancy pictures for this one yet. Oh well. Thanks to caffeine, friends, and the grace of God, I'm sure she'll be fine anyway.

I hope your life is full of helpers this week, too! 

Luck. Or Lack?

Luck is a tricky thing. I'm not much of a gambler, because I don't really like luck. I prefer control. 

So when BestestHusband suggested that we fly on non-rev standby tickets to see family over 4th of July, I was a bit skeptical. We weren't guaranteed seats, but got whatever was leftover. IF there was anything leftover. Yet the price was right, saving over $200 per ticket. 

It was the only way we could see extended family on our budget. So I acquiesced. 

The trip out to MN was smooth. We got tickets close together, two in one row, two immediately behind. Life was good. 

The trip home was different. For starters, BestestHusband wasn't traveling with us. He had business matters to attend to, and flew out Sunday, planning to join us at home late Monday night. So I was flying home alone with the girls. 

My in laws checked the list the night before we were scheduled to fly out. The lists looked good, with lots of open seats. We chose afternoon flights. There were plenty of good options. 

Things looked different the next morning. Seats had filled overnight. We discussed various contingencies. Ultimately, we headed to the airport with our fingers crossed and my FIL in tow in case we had to split the family and come on different flights. We had jammies and toothbrushes packed in my carry on in case our suitcases went to Boston and we had to spend another evening in MN. We hoped for the best. 

We were at the very bottom of the standby list. Things looked grim. Everyone else boarded the plane. We were the last people sitting in the boarding area. Then they called our names. They had 3 seats. We were getting on the flight. My FIL could go home. 

We were assigned middle seats in three consecutive rows. Neighbors were kind enough to move so we could sit together. I felt incredibly lucky. It had all worked out as planned. 

Takeoff was as exciting as usual for the girls. MeToo sat by the window and thoroughly enjoyed the show. It's hard not to get excited when you sit near her. Takeoff was quick, but a bit noisier than usual. We found out why 10 minutes later, and got the announcement that something was amiss with the hydraulics system. We were headed back to Minneapolis. We circled around long enough to dump fuel, and were greeted by fire trucks as we landed. We were fine. But we weren't headed to Boston anytime soon. Our luck had turned. 

Our 1:10 flight was rescheduled for 6:45pm. How do you entertain 2 preschoolers in the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport for 4+ hours and then 2+ hours of flying?

• Well, first you buy $18 worth of yogurt and cookies to keep everyone well fed. Yes, that's 3 yogurts and 3 cookies for $18. 
• Then you go to the play space. It's across from gate C12. You let them climb and run and pretend to use the coin operated rides. Giving quarters for the rides is unnecessary. But giving them all of your pennies for the coin vortex is well worth the money. When they start whining and complaining about tiny bumps and owies, it's time for a change of scenery. 
• So you can ride the tram. It's free. It goes back and forth on the same track. But different people get off and on. It can really eat up some time. 
• Then you can play with the interactive screens near the mall area. Your shadow makes the little umbrellas scatter like leaves. It's mesmerizing. And another good time-waster. 
• Then you can look for the quiet seating area near the Conference Center, overlooking the entrance to Concourse F. There are comfy chairs and a couch there. Unfortunately for us, the couch was taken. We all could have used a nap at that point. 
• Then you find the toy store downstairs from there. Look at all of the toys. Play with the interactive game screen. Buy a small toy for future appeasement. 
• Soon, it's time to find dinner. Find a $10 grilled cheese sandwich for the girls, and a $6 fruit cup. Realize that it's not enough to feed you, but you've already swiped your credit card, and just move on. 
• Deal with a belligerent 4 year old. Threaten to leave her behind in the food court. Get to the gate. Buy another sandwich for another $10. (The threatening might be optional. Feel free to substitute another technique born of frustration if you'd like.)
• Find out you're at the end of the list for standbys again, but hear from the gate agent that your chances are good to get on the flight, anyway. Talk to Daddy on the phone for a while until it causes conflict between two tired preschoolers who can create conflict out of anything. Find out that both flights will be arriving within a half-hour of each other in Boston. Watch all of the people get on the plane. Eat your own sandwich. Have 2 girls insist they're not hungry. Have 2 girls insist they don't need to use the bathroom. 
• Move closer to the gate in anticipation of boarding. Have a 3 year old tell you she needs to potty "despewately" and can't wait. Get the nod from the gate agent. Tell the girls it's time to run to the bathroom. Have the 4 year old whine that she can't run. Grab her arm and demonstrate otherwise. Try not to sound like a crazy lady while running to the bathroom and hissing to the 4 year old that her belligerence could keep you from getting on a plane to go home. Help the 3 year old pee quickly. Ignore the sulking 4 year old who insists she won't need to pee ALL NIGHT. Run them back to the gate. 
• Have the gate agent wave you onto the plane, with boarding passes for the last 3 open seats on the plane. Gather your bags. Realize that your 3 year old left her backpack in the bathroom. Try not to cry. Get the go-ahead from the gate agent to run and get it. Leave the girls and bags with a total stranger and run. Find the backpack on the bathroom floor. Run back to the gate. Usher everyone onto the plane, and head towards the very last row. Realize along the way that you pulled an important muscle, probably a groin muscle. Consider that sprinting while almost 8 months pregnant isn't a wise move. Get to row 39 and discover that there is no window. Watch your 4 year old completely lose it. Suppress the urge to cry along with her. 
• Buckle everyone in. Distribute the $10 grilled cheese sandwich and water bottles. Gladly accept the Twizzlers from the mom of 4 sitting a row ahead. Give a prayer of thanksgiving for angels like her. Watch the Twizzlers stop the flow of tears. Pray that this plane actually makes it to Boston. Daddy is sorely missed. As is bedtime. Then hear the 4 year old insist that she had to go to the bathroom "desperately". Sigh audibly. 

Well, we did make it to Boston. MeToo slept most of the way, and HeyMama was happy with an iPod and 1:1 attention. And the toy I bought at the toy store. I limped and waddled with the girls to BestestHusband's gate, and we were waiting for him when he got off the plane. MeToo greeted him with an enthusiastic "DAAADDDYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!" and ran to him for a hug. BestestHusband helped with the bags, and we shared a cab ride home. It was after midnight when we finally arrived. But we got home. Together. Somewhat in one piece. With all of our luggage. 

So I guess our luck held out in the end. I felt bad for the young woman who started in LA, but had mechanical problems turn her plane around and keep her in LA an extra night. She finally made it to Minneapolis to connect to Boston. She was booked on the 3:15 flight, but got on as a standby onto the 1:10 flight. That was our flight. Her SECOND flight to get turned around for mechanical issues. She had already given up her 3:15 seat. She was booked on the 6:45 with us. Her luck was definitely lacking. 

And the passengers on the Korean flight into San Francisco definitely had worse luck. Ultimately, our luck was not lacking at all. Everything else was just inconvenience.

What Not To Do When You Encounter A Tantrum

Modern life ensures that we encounter all types of people when we're out-and-about in public. And, much to the dismay of some, that will occasionally include children. Sometimes those children will be well-behaved. Sometimes those children will not. And sometimes those children will be in the middle of an all-out tantrum. It has come to my attention in the past few weeks that people feel an urgent need to DO something when they encounter a tantrum. And most of those people do things that are actually counterproductive. So I thought that I'd create a quick cheat-sheet to share with those well-intentioned people who aren't sure what to do.

Let's start with what NOT to do:
1. Do NOT come over to inform the mother that her child is being annoying. I guarantee that she already knows this. Especially don't do this if the mother is pregnant with an additional child. Your chances are good that you'll end up with a bloody nose. A large belly may make her move slower, but carrying small children will give her a strong left hook. Just back away.
2. Do NOT ask the mother to "Do Something" about the screaming. If there was a magic switch to make it stop, she would have used it already.
3. Do NOT inform the mother that the tantrumming child is "in the way". For pete's sake, just walk around.  Get over yourself.
4. Do NOT offer the tantrumming child a cookie. This is the equivalent of giving someone an additional cash prize for robbing the bank. It's totally the wrong response. And may even encourage future repetitions of the current behavior. And see #1 about getting a bloody nose.
5. Do NOT offer the tantrumming child a sticker. See #4. You're not being helpful. You're just antagonizing the mother.

Here's what you CAN do:
1. DO IGNORE IT! Chances are good that the child's doing it for attention, or just experimenting with boundaries. Providing a visible response may encourage the child to tantrum more often, just for fun. Please, don't torment the mother any further. Just keep walking.

Ok, so some people are incapable of ignoring the situation, and really must DO something. It's their personality type, and they just can't help it. Ok, fine. Here are some other options:

2. DO give the mom a smile. You can even say, "Hang in there!" If you have no other reason to stop, just keep going. It's an interaction that might make her feel less judged. Being the mother of a public tantrummer can be a cringe-inducing situation to make even the most stalwart of disciplinarians doubt herself.
3. DO commiserate, only if appropriate. "Oh, my oldest was such a screamer. Ugh, she knew how to push my buttons. She mostly grew out of it." This is appropriate to say, if true. It also might give the mother a chance to chat if she really wants to demonstrate to her child that she's ignoring the situation. It also draws attention to the big picture, that children do grow out of it. In the moment, it can be difficult to remember this.
4. MAYBE consider a light-hearted compliment, if you can make it humorous. "Whew, she's got some lungs. I see American Idol in her future. Can I treat you to a set of earplugs in the meantime?" The mother might need a moment of levity. Or even just something to hear that people aren't judging her for having a lack of control over her child. And maybe she really would love some earplugs.
5. MAYBE offer the mother candy or a sticker OUT OF VIEW of the child. "Would this at all be helpful?" Let the mom decide what her child gets. It's likely that her parenting and discipline philosophy is different from yours. As much as you might want to help, it's best to let her handle the situation HER way. Because it's HER child.

So if you have childless friends, consider sharing this list with them. And if you do have children, tell me, what's missing from this list?

Chocolate Regrets

This week has been a dramatic one in our household. The week started out with fun house guests, including our 1 year old goddaughter. We applied to send both girls to Catholic school next year. (That's another post for another day.) We learned that we're expecting a third GIRL! And then our other two girls gave us a sneak peak at what the teen years will be like. OH, the DRAMA!

Our first moment of teen-preview angst was on Monday, right before the gender-revealing ultrasound. The girls and I met BestestHusband for lunch, at a bagel shop between the ultrasound office and the office where he was scheduled to get a root canal. I agreed to let HeyMama and MeToo pick out bags of chips for lunch, as a special treat. HeyMama handed me hers so I could pay for them. MeToo refused. I tried reasoning with her. Before we eat chips, we have to pay for them. You picked them out, now we have to give them to the cashier. JUST LIKE ALWAYS. This usually isn't a problem at the grocery store. This day, it was. She pouted. I counted to three. She threw the chips down on the floor instead of giving them to me. So I declared the chips ALL DONE. Then the crying and screaming began. Now, keep in mind that this is all happening while I'm trying to order our soup, salad, and sandwich. The cashier was extremely patient and gracious about it. Other patrons? Well, it was a mixed bag. I interjected my conversation with the cashier with "When you're done screaming, I'll understand what you want." This is my standard tantrum routine. I don't negotiate with terrorists. When the screaming's done, then we'll talk. I continued to manage obtaining our lunch, and the screaming escalated. She loves to do this in public. I think she actually has a future on the stage. 

One elderly gentleman across the shop came over and offered to pick MeToo up. Ok, that scared her. She stopped flailing and clung to my legs, still screaming. 

The elderly gentleman in front of me was supportive of me sticking to my guns. "She's a strong one. You're stronger." 

But the frumpy middle-aged guy across the shop? He came over in the midst of the hubbub to inform me, "You know, your kid's really being annoying!" "Yes, I know." was my response. I tried to have a conversation with him. "What would you like me to do?" I asked. "Spank her? And have someone call Protective Services on me? Would you like to spank her? And have someone call Protective Services on you? What would you like me to do?" Not surprisingly, he didn't have much of an answer. He just stalked off, muttering something about "make her stop." 

The most productive of all interveners was the elderly gentleman trying to pick her up. It scared her enough to start asking me for "Up up up!" Ok, those were words. We could work from that. And we did. The tantrum wound down. The cashier was horrified about the middle-aged guy, and apologized profusely.  I'm thankful for the patience not to deck the frumpy guy. I'm sorry, but you just don't tell a pregnant woman dealing with a tantrum that her child's annoying. I guarantee you, she knows. He's lucky he doesn't have a bloody nose to show for it. It's proof that the patience was given by God, and not from me. He's also lucky I didn't point him out to BestestHusband when he arrived. I"m not sure what would have happened there...

Our next moment of teen-preview angst was yesterday evening. The girls' preschool teacher surprised the kids with an Easter Egg Hunt on the playground. The eggs were filled with chocolates. Dove chocolate eggs, to be exact. That teacher has good taste. On the way home, the girls talked very excitedly about their eggs and chocolates. I agreed to let them eat a few. I know they'd been waiting all day. I have a hard time waiting all day to eat chocolate. I can't expect my daughters to be able to do it. So after eating a few, MeToo asked for a video. I said yes. It allows me to prep dinner in peace. HeyMama asked if she could have more chocolate. I said she needed to save them for after dinner. She seemed ok with that. We do typically eat dessert AFTER dinner.

But a few minutes later, the fireworks went off. "I want more chocolate! I wish I'd never eaten those chocolates!" Chocolate regret had set in. She's a bit too young to understand the conundrum of "you can't have your cake and eat it too". Or maybe not. She cried. She screamed. "I wish I hadn't eaten them! I'll never eat chocolate again! I hope Easter never comes!" The regrets streamed out, veering towards the absurd. Now, I can sympathize with this to some extent. I love chocolate. In a truly unhealthy way. I love to eat it. I always want more. And sometimes I regret eating it. Mostly because I want to have more. And eating all of your chocolate means you don't have more to eat. I was sympathetic to her hysteria until she threw her bag of chocolates against the wall and behind the couch. That's when I sent her to timeout. Regret is one thing. Chocolate abuse is another. And it's inexcusable, if you ask me... She raged in her room for a while, screaming random things. "No more eggs! No more candy! I don't like paper! I'm going to rip down all of the art in my room." When she calmed down and was ready to talk, we discussed chocolate regrets. Because I do truly understand. And then she did rip down some of the artwork in her room. Which I also understand. When I get upset, that can be a good catalyst for cleaning and redecoration. 

Oh Heaven help us when the girls are teenagers. By my estimation, the teen years will directly co-incide with menopause for me. BestestHusband is screwed. I see a "mancave" in our future. And maybe a few Academy Awards in our girls'...