My Little Sweetheart

I buttered Michael up for two full days of toddler torture (i.e., General Conference) by taking him to Jumpin' Jacks this afternoon and then an indoor swimming pool this evening. What fun! He was sufficiently worn out by the end of the night that he actually sat and cuddled with me before bed, though he did manage to regain enough energy to climb up the ladder to the top bunk and take a flying leap onto his pillow.

He is such a fun and sweet little boy. Here is some conversational proof:

Today, while trying to switch his carseat from one car to the other, he was standing right behind my legs. I bumped into him, and said, startled, "Michael!" He immediately responded, "I sorry, Mommy."

Then on the same carseat switch I bumped my head and Michael instantly asked, "You okay, Mommy?" Awww, my little knight in soggy pull-ups. (This is a phrase I hear quite often, any time he thinks I may have hurt myself).

He is quick to apologize and quick to say "thank you". If you hand him something he will thank you by name. And if he asks for anything there is always a please involved.

Prayers are extra cute, and he has started praying for every person he can think of, including several blessings for Daddy, home, and work. And speaking of Daddy, when he talks to David at the end of the day he will say, without any prompting, "I love you, Daddy! I miss you!"

Last night he earned himself a time-out for purposely knocking over my water glass (out of boredom - he can't seem to find it within himself to just leave the table when he's had enough. It must be written into his boy DNA to make a departing mess). As soon as I retrieved him from his corner he said, "I sorry water, Mommy." And then we cuddled and hugged, and all was well with the world.

It's true that sometimes the twos are terrible, but the rest of the time there is really nothing better. Especially when that "two" has a smile like this one:

Speaking of Creative Solutions...

Well, since we have just learned that there is a creative solution that works for everyone, what do you think of this one?

Apparently, a German couple desperately wanted a baby, but tests on the husband showed he was sterile, so he did the only sensible thing: he hired the neighbor to impregnate his wife, paying him $2,500 to take care of the job (because hey, the neighbor sort of looked like him, and had already proved his reproductive prowess by fathering two children of his own, so why not?).

I'm not quite sure how one convinces one's spouse to agree to this sort of arrangement. (And why they didn't just go for the sperm donor option is beyond me). But the wife agreed, and for the next six months spent three nights a week, um, "getting to know", her neighbor.

Unfortunately for this ridiculous couple (but fortunately for all the spirits currently awaiting bodies), after six months of "trying" the neighbor was unable to accomplish the job. Subsequent medical tests showed he was also sterile - a fact which must have come as a great shock to him as he had supposedly fathered his own two children.

Turns out, the kiddies weren't his after all, a fact which his wife was then forced to confess.

Now the "employer" is suing his neighbor for breach of contract, saying the neighbor didn't fulfill his part of the deal. He wants his money back, which is now up to a judge who must certainly be having trouble keeping a straight face in the courtroom.

Honestly, the fact that four people actually agreed to this ickiness is just revolting. I am glad the universe saw fit to afflict these idiots with sterility. If it hadn't, who knows what they else they might be doing to contaminate the gene pool?

Consensual Living

Imagine you have an appointment with your doctor for your annual physical. The morning of the appointment your eighteen-month old child wakes up in a grumpy mood. What would you do? Would you: A) take your crabby child with you and make her wait with you, as you had planned to do before you discovered she was Oscar the Grouch? B) arrange to have a babysitter? Or C) would you cancel your appointment and wait for a time when your child was in a better mood?

If you just answered "C", you might be a proponent of a growing trend called "Consensual Living", a lifestyle in which an itty bitty toddler has as much say in what to do and when to do it as her parents have.

The core principles of Consensual Living are as follows:

* Everyone's wants and needs are equally valid, regardless of age.
* Children can be trusted to know their own minds and bodies.
* Punishments and rewards are tools of manipulation, unneeded when family members work as a team.
* There is a creative solution that works for everyone.
* Each family member has a positive intent and desires harmony.
* When all are secure that their needs will be met, they will branch out and help others to meet their needs.

I'm sorry, but are these people on crack? This is the formula for producing happy, functioning adults? Oh, brother! This is all so ridiculous that I am getting nauseated from my head shaking back and forth in such appalled disagreement.

Let's start at the beginning: Everyone's wants and needs are equally valid, regardless of age. Um, no. It's true that children have important needs and wants, but childhood is a perpetual state of not knowing what you want, or why you want it, or why you should have it. You just want, want, want. Especially if someone else has it. Then you want what that person has and you want it now! As for needs, children only know a fraction of what they "need". Mostly they think they "need" TV and candy and to stay up late. This is why you set bedtimes and provide them with things like education and medical care, because they certainly wouldn't be lining up to take care of those things on their own.

Children can be trusted to know their own minds and bodies. Which is exactly why, if I let him, Michael would subsist entirely on hot dogs, fruit snacks and candy. And he would never be potty trained or go to bed. Sure, he might conk out on the floor after a couple of all-nighters, but why give in before that? And as for food, what kid wants nothing but veggies for dinner, after which meal he'll voluntarily clean his own plate and turn in for the night at 7:30, waking up the next morning fully rested and asking, "Mother, might I trouble you to help me use the facilities?" Not my kid.

Punishments and rewards are tools of manipulation, unneeded when family members work as a team. So one is supposed to sit idly by while her child sticks a steak knife into the electrical socket? Or hits another child? (According to one Consensual Living couple, they ask their child if he would like to express his frustration some other way, by hitting a pillow or using words, or whatever. And they never make him apologize because, "if he's going to apologize, we want it to be authentic." Huh? So it's better to not apologize at all?) As for "punishments and rewards [being] unneeded when family members work as a team"? Excuse me while I vomit. What child naturally gravitates toward any teamwork that doesn't involve some kind of planned naughtiness? I mean, Michael might coordinate with a friend to get out of the house or into the medicine cabinet, but working together just to hold hands and sing "Let There Be Peace on Earth"? I don't think so.

There is a creative solution that works for everyone. No there isn't, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. It is good for children to learn that they can't have everything they want, and that sometimes life is hard and they need to compromise with others. If the solution to every problem has to be equally agreeable to all concerned, how is a child supposed to be learning about real life and how to deal with unfairness and disappointment?

Each family member has a positive intent and desires harmony. Have you ever seen my toddler antagonize another child just for the sheer fun of it? If not, you should check out the mischievous gleam that appears in his eye just before he steals a toy or smacks someone with a baseball bat. Positive intent, my foot!

When all are secure that their needs will be met, they will branch out and help others to meet their needs. I admit that my child can be very sweet and charming much of the time, but most of the sweet and charming things he does are things I taught him to do, such as saying "Please", "Thank you", "I love you" and even, heaven forbid, "I'm sorry". But even if every one of his self-proclaimed needs were met, that would not stop him from snatching a cookie from another child or induce him to offer assistance to a person in distress.

Yes, children are humble, sweet little creatures, but they are also the scriptural "natural man" through and through. Why do you think every little person runs around shouting "Mine!" all the time? Selfishness has to be rooted out. The problem is, who is going to do that when all the parents are caving in to the moody tantrums of their five-year olds?

Good heavens, have we really lost our minds so completely? How are we supposed to produce the next generation of responsible, independently functioning human beings if we are too busy giving in to their childish whims and immature feelings? Isn't the job of a parent to parent?

I guess I'm just not "consensual" enough.

Curiosity May Kill the Cat

I was just chatting with a friend who made the offhand comment that it was difficult to find anything about our family adventures amidst all the inane chatter that occupies my blog. (Okay, maybe she didn't put it quite that way, but that's what she meant). So I have posted a poll to the right of your screen. And yes, you have to pick one answer, and no, you can't pick more than one, and if you pick "none of the above" then you should go into therapy, because obviously you are impossible to please. And if you pick the last one then why are you reading this blog in the first place? Doesn't that say more about your lack of intelligence than mine?

Just sayin'.

Isn't It... Er... Romantic?

There are many idiotic ways to propose marriage. I've personally been witness to a few of them, one of the most memorable being a 3 a.m. will-you-marry-me at Denny's. ("Oh, yes, I'll marry you Cletus, but only if my opossum can be the ring bearer!") And then there are the proposal ideas that may have started out with romantic potential, but took a wrong turn somewhere after the ring was bought and got lost in Dummy-ville.

Like this one, for example. It probably started out as a romantic idea, paying homage to the classic ring-in-a- champagne-glass proposal. But somehow the idea was mormonized, resulting in an alcohol-free, non-transparent milkshake instead. Um, yummy.

I mean, I'm sure the first thing a newly engaged woman wants to do is run to the bathroom to wash the chocolate out of her new sparkler. And unfortunately for the woman in this case, there was going to be a lot more cleaning going on then just a quick rinse under some tap water. You see, a ring that is hidden in thick, frosty ice cream is not exactly visible, and when all the in-on-it friends get too antsy to wait patiently for the big surprise and suggest a milkshake-eating contest to hurry things along, the ring might end up taking a slight detour.

And this is how the future bride ended up waiting a few days for her engagement ring to make its appearance via her unwitting digestive system.

Eewwww. I'm sorry, but I don't think I would want to wear anything on my hand that had taken the scenic route through my intestines, no matter how well it has been disinfected. A woman does not want to look at her engagement ring and be reminded of poop.

But the good news is that the couple seems to be amused by the story, which I'm sure will be told for generations to come ("Remember how our marriage started out in the crapper?"). But a ring in a milkshake? Allow me to give a helpful hint to all future proposers out there: Steer clear of jewelry in food.

Revoking Complaining Privileges

My mom is a drug pusher. And I don't mean that in a bad way. I just mean that if I ever had a headache the first words out of her mouth were "Did you take something?" If the answer was no, she sent me off to dig through the medicine cabinet and sling back a couple of Tylenol. No complaining was allowed when it was within my power to fix my own problem. Now, if I had a Tylenol-resistant headache and had already taken the medicine with no help, she would offer sympathy. But there was no complaining allowed until I had taken the drugs.

I was reminded of this recently when she mentioned a friend who was spending a lot of time complaining about something, but who was totally unwilling to do what was necessary to fix the problem (which could be very easily and inexpensively solved). Tired of listening to the day-in and day-out whining, and tired of her advice being ignored, my mom finally told "Brenda" that she was going to stop trying to help her if "Brenda" kept refusing to do what she needed to do to help herself. My mom then revoked her friend's "complaining privileges", saying that she didn't want to hear another whiny word about the situation, and that if "Brenda" called to complain about her plight again, my mom would remind her that she didn't want to hear about it.

Time will tell if my mom can stick to her guns, but I hope she does. Frankly, I think this is brilliant! I can name quite a few individuals who deserve to have their complaining privileges revoked, but I've never had the guts to say anything to them. (Who knows but that I may be one of them? Yikes!) But maybe I should start saying something. I think we may do our friends a disservice when we spend too much time patting them on the back and sympathizing instead of helping them gain the courage they need to overcome their situation. When the power to fix something is within reach, it may be better to encourage a friend by pushing her forward and helping her jump over hurdles (and, if she refuses to move forward in favor of wallowing in her swamp of self-pity, revoking complaining privileges if necessary) than to sympathize and nod our heads in woe-is-me agreement. Support should mean more than just an understanding hand to hold; if necessary, it should also mean a swift kick in the butt.

That's not to say we should look at the problems of others and immediately diagnose them as deserving or undeserving of our compassion. Issues like depression or illness can render even the strongest person incapable of helping his situation. And we should recognize that every person, especially a friend, will reach out for a little sympathy and understanding at times, with absolutely no need or want of a solution. He might just want a listening ear or someone who can support him through a difficult time, not a lecture on what he did to get himself into his mess and a rebuke for not fixing his problems on his own. And obviously there are issues that may be solvable, but the solution is either so difficult or so out-of-reach that sympathy is all that can and should be offered.

But there are definitely times when the best thing to do for a person might be to revoke his complaining privileges.

So watch out, you could be next.

Spring! (Or Why I Haven't Been Blogging)

Spring is finally here... in Southern Utah, that is. It is so nice to be able to step outside without a jacket (let alone a coat and mittens and the million other things that winter necessitates). We are soaking up every minute of sunshine. Michael is thrilled to have been let out of his wintry cage. He is ramped up on cousin fun (and possibly amphetamines - I'm certain he's got to have a stash somewhere). He keeps dragging me outside to run around and play in the dirt. It's odd - we don't really have dirt in New York City. Disgusting filth, yes, but dirt? No.

The flight West was, well, a flight with a two-year old. Need I say more? The in-flight entertainment consisted of one giant exploding diaper and no change of pants, one drink spillage, one airport-purchased salad without a fork (an emergency utensil wasn't even procurable, as the flight attendants spent most of the flight in their seats due to turbulence), one Ipod malfunction causing a sobbing fit for "Einsteins!", and one forty-five minute nap for the two-year old, resulting in one heck of a kinked neck for the not-so-two-year-old. Michael, the little stinker, did not even fall asleep on the drive from the airport, arriving at our destination bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 3 a.m. his time. It took nearly another hour after arriving for him to wind down enough to fall asleep.

We spent a fun few days with Oliver and Kristin while Michael and Clara rekindled their relationship (alternately fighting, screaming with delight, loving and hitting each other). Kristin and I pretty much talked non-stop for three days. I'm quite sure we could set the Guinness World Record for chatting if only the official timing guy wouldn't keep falling asleep. I would post some pictures of our two little lovebirds, but I didn't take any as I was too busy conversing (and it would have required me to set down my horde of chocolate-covered cinnamon bears).

We are now enjoying Grandma and Granddad. It took Michael about thirty seconds to decide that Grandma is much more fun than mom, and he won't even let me get him out of his car seat ("No! Grandma do it!") He is loving the yard, the dozens of new toys, and the bunk bed in the basement. He is also fascinated by the peacock that roams about the neighborhood, running after it and yelling "Bird!" (No one knows where it came from, it just wanders about the neighborhood and is so beautiful that no one seems to want to call animal control. So strange).

So we are having fun. I'm am still in shock over being able to buy a gallon of milk for $1.49 and grapes for $1.29/lb. I even drove a car today, and actually remembered which pedal was the gas and everything. It seems I am still fit for suburban life, city girl though I may be. I mean, cereal for $2? Who knew that was still possible?