The Big SHOULD

Every year, my mom and I go to Austin City Limits Festival.  It's a great conglomeration of bands and musicians from far and wide and right here in Austin.  We get to see some great music by bands we've never heard of, and we get to jump up and down excitedly to some old favorites.  Mostly, it's like a vacation.  We spend three days wandering around hearing great music, eating local food, drinking and relaxing.  When the kids came along, this escape became even more important to me - three child-free days where I can tell off-color stories, curse, drink a little too much and do what I want to do. This past year, though, I felt a little guilty disappearing from my children all day for three days in a row.  They love music, and ACL has a kids area with kids music and activities, not to mention the giant sand pit with accompanying buckets and shovels.  Why not take them on Sunday?  I see lots of people taking their kids, and it would be good for them, culturally.  I SHOULD take them. They get in free, after all, so what's to lose?

So, on Sunday morning I plowed through my hangover from ACL revelry the day before to get the kids ready to go.  I wrestled the double jogging stroller into the back of the minivan.  I packed snacks, water, sunscreen, sand toys and beloved blankies and drover over to my parents'.  My dad dropped us off - Mom, me, the kids and assorted "necessary items" by the bridge where we spent several minutes packing everything into the stroller to walk to the festival.  We walked to the fest and hit up the kiddie area.  Jack said the music was too loud and sat with his hands over his ears looking unhappy.  Newly potty-trained Gage began holding his crotch and grunting, signifying the need to pee, so I rushed him to the portapotty, where we waited in line for five long minutes, me pleading with him to hold it.  He did and we made it out of the potty alive, after Gage had touched every disgusting germ-infested inch of the place. We found Mom and Jack and decided to get something to eat.  Mom and I shared a beer, and Jack and Gage, happier than they'd been all morning,  shared cheese sticks and ice cream.  Then, Gage fell asleep in the stroller, and we headed over to a tent with a giant screen playing whatever NFL game was on that Sunday.  I parked Gage in a quiet corner, and Jack happily sat in Mom's lap watching football.  This was relaxing, but totally something we could be doing at home.  

Forty-five minutes later Gage woke up cranky from a too-short nap, and Mom and I threw in the towel.  We looked at each other, and didn't even need to say it:  Let's go home.  So we did.  We schlepped the monster stroller back to her parked car, crammed it in the back and headed back to their place.  We were both exhausted.

On the way home, I had an internal conversation:  

Me #1:  Hmmm, that was not as much fun as I had hoped.

Me #2: You know Jack doesn't like loud noises or crowds, and you know Gage has to go to the toilet all the time and doesn't nap that well in public.  What did you expect?

Me #1:  I know, but everyone else takes their kids and seems to have a good time, and I thought it would be good for them, culturally, you know?

Me#2:  Okay, A: How do you know everyone else is having a good time with their kids at a crowded, loud music festival, and B:  Even if they are, it doesn't mean you have put everyone in your family through the hassle, just so you can prove something to yourself.  You don't have to cram in all the culture before they're five years old, for Christ sake!

Me#1:  You're right. *sigh* I know.

So next year, I will not put any of us through taking the kids to ACL.  I will go and enjoy it myself, and leave the kids home with Jason or my dad, where they can run around, play games and be the kids they know how to be.  I may not take them year after next, either.  And if they never go to ACL fest with me, I'm sure I'm still a good mom, because this isn't the first thing I've dragged them to to prove to myself I'm exposing my children to a variety of experiences, or to reassure myself  we are doing enough things "as a family."  So my goal now is to let go of the SHOULD.  Things work a lot better when I have a hare-brained idea  like, " Let's take the kids to a wedding that starts forty-five minutes before their bedtime so they can meet my old friends!" if  I take a mental step back and actually envision how said event will go (whining and melting down out of tiredness, first on the kids' part, then on mine, while we don't really get to visit with any of the friends).  We will have plenty of time to do things like that when they get older and can handle it better.  They will have much more fun hanging out and playing with Jason's parents, whom they adore, and Jason and I will have an infinitely better time focusing on "adult time" for the evening.  And, even when I see children my kids' ages at the wedding, dancing and playing and having a good time, I will not regret leaving mine at home.  Those dancing kids are not my kids.  Maybe those kids don't turn into gremlins when awake past eight o'clock, or maybe they do, and their parents just don't mind too much.  It doesn't matter, as long as we've made the best choice for our family, because "quality family time," isn't really quality if everyone's miserable.  Better go out for the evening, relax and rejuvenate so we can spend quality family time at home the next morning, riding bikes, raking leaves, play games and doing things that do work for us at this point in our young children's lives.  Because life is too short to make myself miserable with the SHOULD.

"Why My House Is So Dirty" or "Multitasking is the Devil"

For years, or maybe my whole life, I've heard multitasking is a good thing.  We women excel at it; it's in our DNA.  It is right and good that we drink our coffee, make breakfast for a toddler and look for a preschooler's shoes all while on the phone with the cable company (who will be out to fix the cable sometime between noon and next Tuesday.)  Why not pay bills online while making dinner and mentally formulating my next blog?  It's just an efficient use of time.
Well, lately I've noticed an irritable streak in me.  I am snappy with the kids at times I can't even blame it on PMS.  What's wrong with me?  I tell myself. "You're not perfect.  No one expects you to be sweetness and light all the time.  It's inhuman."  Be that as it may, I realized railing at Jack for leaving his shoes in the middle of the floor when I'd ask him to pick them up three time already wasn't really venting for me.  If anything, it made me feel worse.  So, I started an informal study of myself to see when I was most irritable, trying to figure what the triggers were.  Here's what I found:  I am pissy in the morning.  I do not like being talked to early in the AM, especially if it's not even light yet and I haven't had any coffee.  I certainly am not up for a detailed account of the making of hand print ghosts in preschool the day before. (How does he wake up thinking about these things??) This is not really fixable.  All I can do is get coffee as soon as possible, sit on the playroom floor and expect very little of myself until the caffeine kicks in.
Secondly, I noticed I am most irritable when I am multitasking.  I am more likely to get snappy when both kids are around.  And, at 5:00, when everyone is tired and whiny and I'm trying to make dinner, it's the perfect multitasking storm for me to blow up over some tiny infraction, like Jack putting all the forks under the napkins instead of on them while he sets the table (He thinks this is really funny.)  Okay, so how do I fix it?  Well, I decided, I just need to do less stuff at one time.  These are the changes I've made:

1. I finally caved and decided the kids could watch cartoons while I make dinner, instead of trying to integrate their help into the dinner-making process as all the parenting mags suggest.  Everyone is happier this way.
2. I do not clean.  Instead of running around tidying up the kitchen after a meal, I pile all the dirty dishes in the sink and leave them for later... or for Jason, which is even better.
3. When something is irritating me (usually some innocuous thing Jack is doing like, taking his sweet-ass time picking out clothes in the morning or Gage banging pots on the tile floor), I focus on something else.  I leave the room if possible and go brush my teeth or text my sister, whatever.
4. I remind myself over and over again I'm not responsible to fix every real or imagined problem my children have.  It is okay for them to be upset and cry sometimes.  It is not only okay but good for them to work things out themselves.
5. If I have a hectic day planned, i.e., first to the grocery store, then to a play date, then to the grandparents' house, then play date part two, I ask myself if I can truly handle all that on this day.  I say to myself, "Because if you are going to get all frazzled and pissy, you need to cancel some of that shit.  It's not worth it."
6. I try to remember to be present in the moment.  This one is hard for me, because I am a pathological planner.  But, when we are at the park, I remind myself to make eye contact with my kiddos, really see them, really enjoy them, instead of letting my mind go off planning some future event.  Even if we are just in the car or at the grocery store, I try to find things to enjoy about it - sing silly songs with the kids or whatever.  That's not to say we don't still have those times I am driving white-knuckled and teeth-gritting whilst screaming and whining ensues in the back seat.  See numbers 3 and 4 for this scenario.

I've been telling myself for a long time it's okay not to be the perfect mom.  It's okay if I lose my cool occasionally.  I just want to save it for the big infractions and not socks on the floor.  Most of all, I want to increase my own happiness and contentment, and when I am patient and relaxed with my kids, I am happiest and they are too.  On top of all this, I tell myself not to analyze every statement I make to my kids, worrying what impact it will have on their impressionable psyches.  I am a great freaking mom, and despite that, my kids will, without a doubt, someday think, "wow, that was fucked up," about something I do or say to them.  Why fight it?

Go Outside and Play!

I've just been reading a bunch of articles, posts, responses, etcetera on line about whether or not kids should be allowed to play outside unsupervised.  There are a LOT of people who think its an outrage and even neglectful to do so.  What drives me nuts is, in all that I read, nowhere is a discussion of circumstances.  How old are said kids? How responsible are they?  Are they playing next to a busy street where gunfire abounds?  Do their parents check on them every once in a while?  Can they go in the house if they need to?

There seems to be a whole lot of paranoia out there about abduction.  One mom actually said she was wouldn't let her kids play in the fenced-in BACKyard alone, because sexual predators might be observing her kids' play schedule and planning to snatch them.  Really?

I know child abduction happens.  It is every parent's worst nightmare.  But how often does it really happen?  Hardly ever, actually.  And it is responsible to teach children how to deal with a stranger who asks them to get in a car or tries to force or coerce them into it.  My tag line with Jack is, "Don't go off with strangers," or with anyone actually, without telling me.  We've also had the conversation that, if someone tries to force him to go with them, he's to kick and scream and fight like hell.  That being said, I don't anticipate he'll actually need any of that advice.  If I thought there were a good chance he would, we'd move.

My current outside play policy is this:  Jack is four and a half.  He can play outside in the backyard by himself as long as he wants.  He usually comes running in screaming at the top of his lungs ten minutes after I've gone in because of a wasp, though.  Only recently, I've allowed him to play in the front yard by himself, as long as I am downstairs and can check on him frequently, and with the reminder that he stay in our yard.  I think it makes him nervous after too long, though, because he's never out there for more than ten or fifteen minutes.  Gage is, of course, not allowed outside by himself, as he is eighteen months old and has a fondness for picking up bugs, even wasps, and I wouldn't put it past him to taste one, either.

That being said, if another parents didn't allow their four year old outside by him/herself, I'd respect that.  Jack is a cautious kid.  He's not going to run into the street or forget he's not supposed to leave the yard.  He also not going to stay out there very long without me.  In this particular situation, his cautious, sometimes fearful nature can actually be a virtue.  Every child is different and is ready to handle responsibilities at different times. I think it's vital we let kids have some independence so they can grow up feeling competent and confident in their abilities, and also that we trust other parents to know their own kids and what they can handle.  So my question to you is this (yes, I really want an answer via comment):  Do you let your kids play in the front yard unsupervised?  And/or at what age do you think you'd let them, if ever?  What do you think of other parents who let their kids play outside unsupervised?