Metal Meredith

Last time I wrote about my experiences at Bunco with the preschool teachers and staff, I caught a lot of shit the next day from many of them. It appears that females who work at a church do not consider themselves “church women”. Unbeknownst to me, some took offense to this term. Apparently, using a descriptive like “church women” conjures up more of a Dana Carvey character than simply defining two aspects of their lives. I haven’t been invited to Bunco since.

This time, they decided to add a lot of alcohol to their system and things lightened up quite a bit. I won’t go into the conversations and the many things I learned. Mainly, because someone actually asked me if they had to worry about it showing up here now. In truth, the 15 people that read this don’t much care for gossip in the lives of others that I know. This also isn’t the place for me to share about anyone but me and my family. So, I will keep this quick and simple.

I was made a little fun of when I used the term ‘sofa’. I had no idea that this creates visions of Three’s Company in the heads of others when I use it. So when I got home, I had to ask Phil what he calls the large piece of furniture that warms our butts each night for hours while we play on computers and watch television. When he told me ‘couch’, I knew there was something behind my use of the word “sofa”.

So I did a little research. It took me about 15 seconds to figure it out. Tell me what you think:

Vivienne had a giant fit the other day about a Build A Bear. I think those things were put on this earth to made us miserable. She had a birthday party for a classmate this weekend. She talked for days ahead of time about which animal she would pick and what kind of outfit she would get. I had the task of explaining to her that at a party, she was able to pick from just a few animals and might not get exactly what she wanted.

After seeing her head spin a 360, she threw herself on the carpet and proclaimed “This is going to be the worst birthday party ever!”. With that one phrase, we were in battle.

Phil and I had a good hour long conversation, more like a meeting of the minds. It was full of brainstorms and a lot of “if....then” sentences. We opened up our discipline techniques and examined them. We tossed what wasn’t working (almost everything) and discussed why we thought they failed. We revisited past punishments and took a little time to dissect what really got Vivienne and what she just blows off.

When we were done, there essentially was a new sheriff in town. Not only has discipline received a make-over, but Christmas has, too. We took a pile of gifts that we deemed frivolous and marched Vivienne to the Angel Tree. We picked out a lovely four year old girl and gave her many Littlest Pet Shop sets and toys. I hope her Christmas is wonderful now and that truly appreciates what she gets.

Vivienne won’t get switched and coal, but her pile has dwindled considerably. Throw in that Henry found his big toy a week ago (a ride on dump truck), this Christmas will be less about blowing minds and more about appreciation. I hope Phil knows that I have been extra good, too!

I feel a rotten cold coming on. I have successfully avoided the cold that made the rounds from Vivienne to Henry to Phil to Henry to Vivienne. Not sure how, since I am with the kids so much. But this time, I am really going to get it, I can feel it.

So please excuse the small lapse in content in the blog. I am tired, I have a huge week ahead and I need to save up some energy.

*I spent my morning with 2 two year olds, 1 one year old and 1 six month old. It was only 3 hours and I was t-i-r-e-d when it was all over.

*Vivienne’s bus driver was 8 minutes early this afternoon, causing me to run the last 2 block to the bus stop, pushing Henry along in the stroller. She had to close the doors and pull the bus over to wait for all of the moms to arrive. Vivienne was so scared and crying when I finally got there, I had to sit with her for several minutes and explain how it happened. Then, I had to walk home pushing a stroller with Vivienne on piggyback because she wouldn’t let go of me while we were walking home.

*This morning, Vivienne went up to say goodbye to Phil, coming back downstairs complaining that she gagged and almost threw up due to the smell. Tonight, as Phil and Vivienne were dancing (a nightly ritual), Vivienne’s butt was a constant symphony of farting, causing her to giggle, causing more farts and more giggling and more........ you get it.

*After months of trying to get Henry to scoot down the stairs on his butt, Vivienne taught him to lay on his tummy and slide down. After doing it 5 times, Vivienne lifts her shirt to reveal her entire stomach is one big rug burn. She laughs and laughs but then has to lay down the 20 minutes until Phil gets home to sufficiently milk the empathy.

*Henry has discovered that it is much more powerful to scream “Mama!” when he doesn’t want to be sleeping than just to cry. If he gets really desperate, he yells “Daddy!”. It is always drawn out to 3 syllables with a sharp inhale in between. A sniffle and maybe a sad, gaggy cough between fits also helps.

*Something upstairs smells like poo. I can’t figure it out (and we know it isn’t the farting problem, above). How scared am I that we will find a 6 month old dirty diaper stashed somewhere?