Picture Projects

We parents are regularly tasked with having to send the kids to school with something specific for them to complete a project.  Sometimes, it’s per a schedule, as in the weekly show-and-tell that Ella’s teachers execute on Thursdays.  Every week, they work on a letter, and on Thursdays they are to bring something from home that starts with that letter.  This week’s is “Z” – I’m already thinking about what it is she’ll bring this week.  I think we actually have a zebra somewhere, exactly where, I’m not sure.

The recurring bring-something-from home is manageable and fits right into how we operate – routine, routine, routine – and I generally don’t forget.  Once I did forget, though it wasn’t necessarily a memory issue.  It was “U” week, and earlier in the week I had decided that I didn’t want to send Ella to school with an umbrella.  I figured everyone would do that.  The only problem was, I didn’t think of an alternative.  Even now, I struggle to think of a word that starts with “U” other than “under” and “up.”  I could show-and-tell those words, but Ella?  Not so much, even with a little coaching.  I’ve tried.  So, during "U" week, Ella had nothing for show-and-tell.

Most often, the bring-something-from-home request is random, seemingly pulled out of the air but I'm sure completely planned.  Sometimes, we’re given a day’s notice, like the time we were informed that the kids were to bring in their favorite books to read… TOMORROW.  The timing of reading such a request is an important factor in its fulfillment – too early the day before, and it gets put off for later (and forgotten) given so much time to prepare for such a small task; too late the day before, and I’m either already in bed and putting it off for a morning task or it’s not even the day before and I’m reading the notice after having dropped Ella off at school, bookless.

Other times of random requests, we’re informed of a project that the kids will be working on later in the week or the following week.  The most common request of this nature has been to bring in a picture or two, be it a family picture, baby picture, recent picture and even a pet picture.  This type of request is currently on the top of my mind and not yet actioned since I read Ella’s daily report for this past Friday where her teachers asked that the kids each bring in a baby picture sometime next week.  I can’t speak for other mothers, but these picture requests are more difficult to deliver than it sounds.  In this world of digital photos, we just don’t have a lot of pictures lying around.  The pictures that we do have are either framed and not for potential butchering for a school project or are buried in a growing stack of papers in the office or a box of baby memories somewhere in the basement.

Cal’s teacher recently asked the kids to bring in some pictures of themselves.  I’m not really sure how the ask was worded, but I understood it to be to bring in a picture of him as a toddler and one of him as a 5-year-old.  Somehow, I’m not sure how since it was clear to me the second time I read the request, I missed the ask for the picture of him as a baby and sent Cal to school with two pictures.  But I did so ON TIME.  Actually, it turned out I was ahead of time.  For some reason, they didn’t do the project on the day they had planned; and we were informed that those who had forgotten had another day to bring in some pictures.

I was so proud of myself.  I didn’t even need to pay attention to the message as I had already done my job (or so I thought).  And although I noticed the three pictures (baby, toddler and recent) of the kid with whom Cal shares a cubby, I didn’t really pause to ask myself why there were three and not just two and then re-check the request.

A couple of days later when I was picking the kids up from school, Cal proudly announced that he wanted to show me something and had me follow him to a wall in the back of his classroom.  At first glance, I saw many pieces of yellow construction paper, each with three pictures attached to it.  Gulp.  Cal directed me to his piece of yellow construction paper where I saw the two pictures I had sent with him to school.  They were positioned vertically on the paper, one on top of the other.  Beneath the second picture was a hand-drawn picture of Cal as a baby, Cal’s self-baby-portrait, I like to call it.

Initially I was sad.  Cal’s was the only project “missing” a picture.  I felt as though I had failed him.  More than sad, I was incredibly proud.  He could have very easily given me flack for failing to send him to school with the three pictures that Mrs. Dunham had requested.  He could have very easily been upset about it, too.  But he didn’t.  And he wasn’t.  Instead, he was simply proud of the project that he had completed and wanted to show it to me.

To the right is a picture of his project as it still hangs on the wall in his classroom.  I regularly revisit the mental image I have of him, realizing he was missing a picture, just drawing a picture of himself as a baby in its place.  Mrs. Dunham may have suggested he do that, I never asked.  In this image I have of him, his tongue is peeking through his lips, he has a small grin on his face and he is quickly drawing a baby.  Next, he takes the toddler picture and places it above his hand-drawn baby picture; and then he places his kindergarten picture on top to finish off the project.  Finished, he raises it in the air and says, “Look at mine, Mrs. Dunham,” shows her and then runs off for whatever fun is in store for him next.  Not once does he wish he had a "real" baby picture.

Needless to say, I have not yet sent Ella to school with a baby picture to deliver on the latest simple challenge presented to me.  It probably didn’t help that her teachers gave me some breathing room when I asked them about it on Monday.  “Oh, you have time,” they said when I asked them if we’re too late for the project.  But no date was specified, not that I pressed for one.  With any wriggle room, I am destined for failure.

Today, over the course of writing this post, I decided that in the absence of a reliable, sensible system, I will just treat every one of these random bring-something-from-home requests as urgent and needed the next day, whether they really are or not.  I operate best under those conditions anyway.  And, as I post this blog, two baby pictures of Ella are sitting on the kitchen island in plain view, ready for the taking to school tomorrow morning.  Why two?  I couldn't decide which one to take.  This is surely a topic for a future post.

George Morge's Furry Buttons

At Ella’s request and Cal’s okay, we had a string of family reading nights last week.  Three family reading nights in a row, to be exact.  Whereas on a non-family reading night Dan and I each read to a kid separately (e.g. Dan reads to Cal, I read to Ella), on family reading night, we all assemble into one of the kids’ rooms and read two books, one that Cal has selected and one that Ella has selected.

What triggered last week’s string of family reading nights was the purchase of a couple of books (the learning-to-read kind) for the kids despite having just placed an order with Scholastic for some new books.  Cal had been complaining, justifiably so, about his selection at home; so I thought a new book while we wait for the order come in might ward off any ugliness on the verge of happening.  For Cal, I bought a Star Wars book with pictures of the original characters (i.e. not the Clone Wars series); and for Ella, I avoided the Princess books and bought a Curious George book.  I thought Cal might enjoy that one, too.

On family reading nights, Dan and I actually don’t read – the kids do.  At 5, Cal’s actually a pretty decent reader and was able to read his new Star Wars book on his own with no prep or coaching to get him through it.  The book is primarily about Luke and his relationship with other Star Wars characters and contains single-sentence pages, just the right amount of detail for the mixed crowd.

It probably doesn’t need to be said that, at 3, Ella cannot read, per se.  If she’s had a story read to her a time or two, she might be inclined to tell a shorter variation of it.  If she hasn’t, she’ll make up her own story, leveraging the pictures and her creative mind to do so.  During our string of family reading nights last week, we were all looking at the Curious George book for the first time, which meant we were getting the second flavor of Ella’s book reading.

Each night, this was pretty entertaining.  Every time it started with, “George Morge” did something, I don’t recall exactly what, and I think it may have changed with each reading.

Once she started, all three of us listened intently to her.  To not do so would be to miss out on some funny stuff.  It’s a riot.  With the first page “read,” she turned the page.

On the first and second nights, Ella next read, “George Morge buttoned his shirt,” or something about his shirt because the next thing we knew she the story involved “George Morge’s furry buttons.”

Bahahahahahaha!  Furry buttons!  We all laughed, which only encouraged her to talk more about these George Morge’s furry buttons.  It was “furry buttons” this and “furry buttons” that.  With every mention of “furry buttons,” we laughed; and with every laugh, Ella kept the story about these “furry buttons.”

By the third family reading night, Ella had apparently decided to abandon (or possibly forgot) the “furry buttons” angle of the story and talked about “George Morge” having done something like a “venture.”

I didn’t know what this was.  “Adventure?” I tried.

“No, Venture,” she responded.

“Venture?” I asked.

“No, Venture,” she responded, enunciating more but saying it the same way.  This cracks me up.  Clearly she thinks she’s pronouncing a word differently than how she’s saying it.

Cal doesn’t forget anything and is a stickler for routine.  So he was chomping at the bit to jump in and get Ella to talk about George’s “furry buttons” again. So while Ella and I were having our “Venture-Venture” back-and-forth, Cal found his way into the chatter with, “FURRY BUTTONS!  BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

With this, Ella was reminded of the furry-button angle of the story and continued telling the story, this time saying something about “George Morge” and his “furry buttons” and “furry cuttons,” whatever those are.  We all laughed, including Ella.

To this day, I still haven't read the real story.  I am curious to know what it is but am equally satisfied with Ella's rendition of it.

Cal's Going to the Bathroom Chart

Now that we've successfully tackled Cal's thumb-sucking, the next Cal-specific challenge facing us - or, rather, slapping us in the face - are his nighttime potty issues.  I hesitate to write about it because I know that this is something that is not a choice for him, and I don't want to embarrass him.  He just can't stay dry at night.  He knows this, and he's comfortable with the reality of it; so maybe it's okay that I do write about it.

My current theory is that he's just a sound sleeper and doesn't know he's peeing, a much better theory than my initial thought that he was just being lazy.  I came to that laziness theory honestly - a wet pull-up (staying true to Pampers, we use the Underjam version) has never bothered Cal, so I thought he just chose to stay in bed and pee instead of expending the energy to get up and  just use the toilet.  I mean, this is the same kid who, during potty training, responded to my mom's "see how easy it is to go poop in the toilet, Cal?" with an "it's easy to go poop in my diaper."  Why wouldn't I think he possibly meant that?

Our doctor said that it's nothing to worry about, that at 5 nighttime potty issues are not uncommon.  So I don't worry and just accept it.

I'll be honest - washing and changing his bedding frequently, sometimes daily, other times after a stretch of maybe 3-4 days isn't fun.  It does frustrate me that the Underjam, the best performer we've found, is not leak proof.  I've got a decent system that keeps me sane, though.  A plastic cover keeps the mattress safe.  We no longer use a top sheet for cover and have a collection of 3 fitted sheets and 3 blankets that we cycle through.  Blankets in the queue are folded, and fitted sheets are wadded up on top of them, all in Cal's closet for easy retrieval.

Every morning includes a trip to Cal's room where I inspect his bed for signs of leakage.  Sometimes this is obvious; other times, it requires a sniff test.  Any sign of urine, and I'm pulling off the sheet and blanket, gathering up any of the kids' dirty clothes and then throwing it all into the washing machine.  On the plus side, I keep the washing of the kids' clothing small and manageable.  And Cal almost always has a pair of his too-small, 4T pants to wear.

Sometimes Ella helps me, something that makes her happy.  Her favorite thing to do is wipe down Cal's vinyl-covered mattress with a wipe... at least, as far as she can reach.  I do the final wiping, of course.

Cal knows that he kind of has a problem to overcome.  We don't get mad or frustrated with him, but we periodically bring it up as something for him to work on, that he can't be in his Underjam forever.  I'm sure that Ella formally having a goal of waking up with a dry Pull-Up (for her we use the actual Pull-Up version since it's cheaper and doesn't need to perform with high volumes) is a reminder for him that he has that same goal.

As I made Ella's 5-goal Reward Chart in response to my All-Time Mommy Low post, Cal made a reward chart of his own.  The theme was his using the potty at night.  As he put it together, Cal let me take occasional peeks at what he was doing; and this made us both laugh and incented him to do more with it.

The chart includes 32 days written in a pattern of the colors of the rainbow. In the upper, left corner is a picture of Cal sitting on the toilet with pee coming out of him and landing in the toilet.  In the upper, right corner is a picture of a wet, leaky Underjam still on what is Cal's body with his torso and upper legs included in the picture.  And in the bottom, right corner is a picture of Cal standing with his arms in the air, no pants and a yellowed penis - in this picture, he's declaring, "I showed my mom my muceles <muscles> but then I peed in my pants!"  And like any good Kindergartener, he included his name and the date on his piece of art.

I should also note one more attention to detail that Cal included - in all pictures he drew himself wearing the red- and gray-striped shirt that he wore that day.

Needless to say, Cal's "going to the bathroom chart" does not yet have an X or a sticker on any of its numbered days.  The chart does hang on the back of his door beneath his Underjam storage bin for periodic amusement and perhaps something that'll be useable in the future, whenever that may be.

... Seven Days Later

Seven days ago and when I last posted an entry in my blog, I was incredibly disappointed in myself, mad at Ella, sad for Cal and at my wits’ end re: what to do next.  Ella had pushed one too many of my buttons, and we were on a course that I know I, along with everyone else in our house, didn’t like.  Change was needed that day.
 
I came up with a list of things to do to change our course, and I’m happy to say that it’s not just a list made to make myself feel better at the time.  I’m actually sticking to it.  (Lists have that effect on me.)  So I thought I’d check back in with a status of each of the items on my list and how it’s going after a week of being “in effect.”

First, re-boot myself so that my patience and tolerance for Ella as she tackles toddlerhood is back to an acceptable parenting level.  My short fuse certainly isn't helping the situation.

Status:  Done.  It was a necessary first step on which all others were dependent.  And it didn’t take long to do, either.  This was nothing more than a conscious decision to change my perspective.  An initial deep breath followed by a simple smile helped make this happen.

Second, no more yelling.  I'm tired of hearing myself played back to me when my kids yell in response to a situation not going as they'd like.

Status:  In effect.  I haven’t yelled since that morning.  I’ve been loud and stern so as to best attempt effective communication of the seriousness of my message; but I have not screamed at my kids at all.  So far, I have this in check, sometimes just barely – Ella’s nighttime “games” really get under my skin. But I am mentally committed to seeing this no-yelling thing through.

Third, no more instant "No."  I think Ella is playing that back to me just as I deliver it to her.  I will still say "No" but differently... more thoughtfully, as if to suggest a reason, which I always have but just don't necessarily communicate.

Status:  Working on it.  I’ll be honest: I say “no” a lot.  I think the kids must innately know something about the law of averages – at some point, I’ll surely say “yes” to a question that really warrants a “no.”  They probably get me every once in awhile, too.  But when you say “no” a lot, it’s pretty exhausting not only providing backup for the “no,” but even just delivering a softer “no.”  It’s always in the back of my mind, though, so I find myself explaining, albeit briefly, more nos than not, if even with a “because I don’t want you to” or “well, because I said so.”  What remains to be seen is the effect, if any, this will have on Ella – so far, no change as she still gives me a lot of instant nos herself.

Fourth, have Ella select her next-day outfit the night before and lay it out for her.  We did this with Cal to mitigate the risk of him having his own clothing meltdown in the fast-paced, time-crunched mornings, and have only done it spottily with Ella.  It works, so we'll do it religiously.

Status: In effect on weekdays.  It hasn’t eliminated the challenges of getting Ella dressed in the morning (see commentary re: step nine), but it has helped contain the scope of things that could go south.  Less scope = less risk of something going wrong given everything else stays the same.

Fifth, enforce the time-boxed bedtime routine at all times.  If they (Cal included) choose to run around and play instead of getting ready for bed, then they get no books at the end of it.  It's their choice.  If Ella chooses to battle getting her jammies on, then no books for her (and likely no jammies).  Again, it's her choice.

Status: In effect… sometimes, and I don’t really know why only sometimes.  There were two nights where we couldn’t really use it, once because we watched a movie (Frozen) which took us right up to bedtime with no books and another time because we were out of town for the afternoon and returning at bedtime.  And tonight, well, tonight was actually really, really good from the moment I got home with the kids until the moment it was time to head upstairs for bed… and I just forgot.  This technique seems to be most effective on shower/bath nights – getting the kids to cooperate in getting undressed and into the shower/bathtub needs a timer for motivation purposes.

Sixth, stick with the "Frozen" soundtrack.  We played it for each of the kids once they were lying in their beds last night and again tonight.  While not a cure-all, it did seem to make things a little better... a few less "I love yous" and "are you not closing your doors?" coming from Ella's room to acknowledge from wherever I am in the house before she fell asleep.

Status: In effect and working.  That's the upside.  The downside is that the song, "Let it Go," is a permanent fixture in my head.  I may be talking about forecasts and metrics at work all the while thinking "the cold never bothered me anyway."   

Seventh, offer to hold Ella every once in awhile during a tantrum or unwarranted obstinacy (if she'll let me).  Maybe this will calm her down and help me yell less.

Status: I used this once (I don’t remember in what specific situation), and it worked.  Ella relaxed and rested her head on my shoulder; and I felt like I was being a comforting mommy instead of a wicked stepmother.

Eighth, reintroduce the Reward Chart to encourage Ella to listen, cooperate grow and just be a nicer person.  Thus far, encouragement for good behavior hasn't reduced the amount of Ella's "sad choices" (a school term); and the Reward Chart concept has been a little lost on her.  Maybe it's worth another try.

Status: Started this morning.  One day does not make for a trend, but I hope it’s at least indicative of good things to come.  Ella has five goals on her Reward Chart, and I consulted only Dan in itemizing it.  Here are her five goals, each one with a week’s worth of boxes in which she’ll put a sticker if we agree that she achieved the goal:

Before today, Ella had already gone three days waking up with a dry Pull-Up and woke up this morning dry; technically, three more in a row, and she’ll be out of them entirely.  She did get dressed with no resistance this morning but with more assistance than I’d like – I gave it to her anyway because she was at least pretty pleasant about it (I'll get tougher on her... I will).  She did not whine at the dinner table tonight (I’m saying, it was a really great night); and I think I’m going to give her the go-to-bed-and-stay-in-bed-quietly sticker – it’s not that she did it like I’d like her to do it, but it was remarkably better than usual (for this one, too, I'll get tougher... I will).  And the one about Mommy’s door?  This is the best one.  Before putting her in bed, I reminded her of numbers 1 and 3 and actually saw her look at the chart as I took my first step toward the door.  Not once did she mention my door.  Hallelujah!  If it only works for tonight, I’ll still have tonight to remember fondly.

Ninth, threaten to put jeans on her if she doesn't cooperate in the morning.  Ella does not like jeans.  It's a win-win for me - if it works, she cooperates with getting dressed; if it doesn't work, she wears jeans, something I like.

Status: Used... twice already.  Tears and frown aside, I thought Ella looked pretty cute in her jeans!

Tenth, look for options - aka distractions - to eliminate.  Ella has a seemingly endless list of pre-bed things to do which is only stopped when Dan or I lose it, thereby putting an end to it.  The other day, it was flip-flopping stools in the bathroom that set me off - maybe we just keep one stool in the bathroom.

Status:  Nothing to report just yet.

Eleventh, get help if 1-10 don't seem to be working. Dan and I are being presented with unprecedented levels of toddlerhood, and I shouldn't be too proud to suggest that I have no clue what I'm doing.  I will take any help I can get.

Status:  Haven’t had to tap into this yet.

Twelfth, make sure Cal gets good, Ella-less attention and hugs from me.  I don't know if he needs that, but I need to give that to him.

Status:  Trying.  Dan and I switch off putting each of the kids to bed (Dan puts Ella to bed and I put Cal to bed one night; the next night, we switch).  A couple of the times that I put Cal to bed, I’ve lain with him in his bed for a few minutes after we finished reading his books.  Inevitably, Ella is yelling from her room either about my closing my door or announcing she needs help with her covers or has something else to tell me.  Dan’s already downstairs.  I try not to acknowledge it and pretend it’s silent so Cal and I can have our cuddle time; but Cal cuts that short and tells me to go help her.  “Are you sure?” I ask him, to which he always responds, “Yes." 

In other words, better... much better.

Stay tuned for a post later this week about Cal's "going-to-the-bathroom" reward chart, inspired by Ella's 5-goal reward chart.  It's a riot.

Note: I was premature in saying that I'd give Ella a sticker for going to bed and staying in bed... quietly on night 1 of her reward chart being in effect.  To do so would discount the misery that Dan and I suffered at the hand of an over-tired, bossy, crying, out-of-bed, needy and remarkably resilient Ella at around midnight... a couple of hours after I posted this.  We'll keep trying.