Always Being Bad Cop

No one wants to be bad cop all the time, right?  Well, welcome to single parenthood!  Whether you are divorced or have lost your significant other due to death or your significant other travels a lot (I will include you in this, my friends) or you have made the choice to go this road alone—no one wants to be the heavy all the time.  Well, maybe I shouldn’t say NO ONE!  I am sure there are some people who don’t mind being the disciplinarian ALL THE TIME!  But that is a different story all together, right?

However, when looking at Team Williams’ discipline path, it can be tough to feel like you are the only voice saying things like: Please be careful!  Please use both hands!  Please don’t touch the stove!  Please hold my hand!  Please climb into the car!  Please go potty before we leave!  Please sit down on the couch!  Please pick up your cars so that Mommy doesn’t step on them!  Please turn off the light!  Please keep the water IN the bathtub!  Please use your fork and napkin!  Please put your shoes on before you go outside.  Please stay out of the street!  We wear our helmet when we ride our bike or our scooter, right?  We don’t hit, do we?  We don’t scream unless we are hurt, right?  We use our nice words with our friends, right?  We listen and pay attention when teachers are talking, right?  Please say ‘excuse me’ when Mommy is talking!  We don’t throw sand because it could hurt our friends, right?  And on and on and on and on!

I am sure that married/co-parent people still have someone who is the more “dominant” parent when it comes to discipline, but since I don’t live in their homes nor does my son, I have no clue how they do it.  I can only wing it in our home and hope that the plan I have in place, right now, is working/shaping him!  And, do I automatically become a nag simply because the only voice he hears as a yay or a nay is mine?  Am I giving the right balance of “sure!” and “heck no!”?

Always being the bad cop sucks!!!

Would love to hear your thoughts/input/opinions!

Treyvon Bandwagon

So, you know I had to do it, right?  I know that this blog post won’t be about anything that y’all haven’t already heard, read or seen in the media, but still, as I sit here listening to my 4 year old son singing “Twinkle, Twinkle” in his room, I can’t NOT say something.  I am sad, frustrated, wounded and a little scared!

I know what African Americans have gone through in this country.  I know the history of this country and how minorities are treated today.  All I have to do is look at my own community and I can tell what’s going on.  I first heard about this story and obviously, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.  As someone who has worked in the prison system and the daughter of a civil servant (retired fireman), I generally, think that police and the like do their due diligence!  I didn’t want to automatically think anything like this was race based.  I didn’t want to think that it’s another Florida death where the accused murderer got off.  I just didn’t want to assume anything. 

However, over the past few weeks, I can only think about what this inaction and confusion and finger pointing means for my son.  It also makes me think about our community and what our “friends” REALLY think about race and race related issues.  I have read so many posts on Facebook and Twitter and heard people’s opinions about how it was or wasn’t racially motivated.  I have read how people don’t “see” race, so they don’t understand how others can just assume that this was racially motivated.  I have read people getting mad and even incensed about people of color gathering around a cause and being frustrated or hurt or confused.  I have seen how some people just want to “sweep” it under the rug and get upset when we don’t just “walk in love!”

Well, I too am confused.  I too am frustrated.  How do I, a white woman who is OUTRAGED by this, explain this kind of thing to my son?  I know the simple answers and I am not looking for advise, but it does make me think!  Clearly, K and I are not having this conversation today, but someday, we will—this I know for sure.  How do I explain why talking about race is tough for some people but we do it all the time? 
I know that most of my questions (these and the other ones roaming around in my head) will work themselves out and when the time comes, I will be able to have a dialogue with K about such things.  I trust myself on that one.  I also feel that  even if I don’t have an answer for him, we can figure things out together or I will point him in the right direction or to the person who I hope can help him.  These are conversations that can wait for now, but this is a conversation that I need to add to the ever growing list of things that I know we will need to talk about; things we should most certainly talk about: Martin Luther King, Tsegaye Gabre-Medhin, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, the Freedom Riders, Thurgood Marshall, Zora Nealle Hurston, Colin Powell, Alvin Ailey, Robel Teklemariam, Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Medger Evers, Langston Hughes, President Obama, Nelson Mandela and the like!

I don’t know… maybe this is just me brain dumping—it most likely is.  But please, parents, let’s have these kinds of talks with our kids.  Let’s open the doors of conversation about race and race related issues—not forcing them, but dealing with them.  Let’s celebrate how different we are, in a good way.  Let’s also put politics and religion and whatever aside and be outraged that this kid was killed. 

I Am In No Hurry!!!

“I am in no hurry,” said the older lady at the doctors office today!  The moment she said it, I felt like saying, “Really?! I wish!!!”  Sadly, I feel like I am ALWAYS in a hurry.  I feel like I am always late.  I feel like I am always a dervish.  I am jealous of this woman who clearly had time for small talk.  I am jealous of her story time with the receptionist about her travels to China, when she was “your age” (the receptionist can’t be more than 23 years young).  I don’t know that I have always been this person—miss tardy pants.  I don’t think that I have always been in the “you are 5 minutes late” crowd. 

Since I have been blessed with the chance to be responsible for another human being, I have tried to find that balance of getting to work on time—and honestly, I am pretty close now, but it’s been over 2 years.  I have really tried to be on time to birthday parties and events where my son will have fun, but that isn’t always the case.  I have tried to make sure that we have all the “checks” as we head out the door—medicine, inhaler, shoes, jacket, snacks, water, race car, worm, truck, underwear (yes, K left the house once without underwear on—one of the first times he dressed himself and I didn’t check him), etc.   However, inevitably, there is always something that is forgotten and I have to rush back into the house, deactivate the alarm, find it, reactivate the alarm and make sure that K has locked and loaded himself into his car seat. This usually makes us probably somewhere between 3-7 minutes later than we would have been.

Then there’s work—meeting after meeting that I am rushing to.  Phone calls to return, emails to respond to (Lately, I have been getting, on average, 75-90 emails a day).  I give myself 24 hours to respond, but sometimes, I don’t hit that target.  Sometimes, I don’t respond at all, but such is life, right?  NOOOOO!  I don’t like being the person who lets things slip thought the cracks.  Don’t you know that I am Type A personality?  It irks me to no end to not be “perfect” (one of my many admitted flaws/quirks).

Yet, as we all know—there is no perfection when it comes to parenting.  It’s all about doing the best with what you got.  Sometimes it’s just enough to be stoked that they (the kids we are blessed to raise) made it through the week with no major injuries and no heartbreak.  Sometimes it’s a big sigh of relief to realize that we both made it through the week alive and well!  When it comes to being a working parent, aren’t we all just happy to make it to work without smelling like crap, pee, moldy milk, re-kisses of my own lipstick on my shirt, or his pizza that spilled down my leg onto my just back from the cleaners work pants!  So I will quietly envy this woman’s declaration of free time to chat it up and have the receptionist take her sweet time looking up if she had a next appointment already booked.  Yes, I will envy that she had time to burn and talk about how 75 is the new 50.  I will covet the fact that she is in no hurry whatsoever!

Conversation about “dunder” clouds

Scenario:  In the car on the way home from a rainy day!

K: Mommy, are those dunder clouds?

Me:  Yes baby!  And what do THunder clouds do?

K:  They make loud sounds and crash us!

M:  Crash us?

K: Yes!  Dunder and lightning are loud and bright and can crash us!

M:  Konjo, thunder clouds can be loud, but they won’t crash us!

K:  They could though maybe.  They can be scary but we aren’t scared of anysing.  We are brave.

M:  That’s right.  And thunder clouds bring us rain and we love the rain!

K:  Oh yes Mommy!  I love rain! I can jump puddles and wear my boots and… look at that tractor!

*And done with the dunder cloud talk!

K’s First World Problems—Things that, in his mind, really SUCK!!!

*In no particular order

When the pink computer (AKA the iPad 2) battery is low

When his light saber batteries are dead

When the batteries in his RC truck are dead.

Wailing and gnashing of teeth occur if I don’t let him push the “start” button on the microwave.

When he isn’t allowed to push the garage door button to watch the door close

When I let him choose which shoes he wants to wear to T-ball—he can choose between 4 pairs.

When all 4 of his Buzz Lightyear shirts are dirty and that’s the shirt he REAALLLLY wanted to wear to school.

Having to choose between his two sets of rain boots

Only getting to go on the Casey Jr. train at Disneyland 2 times instead of 3 (or any ride since we go at least once a week).

When I only let him play at the park after school for 30 minutes because, um, it’s DARK OUT!!!

Only going to 4 pumpkin patches instead of as many as he wanted.

And the list goes on and on and on!!!

Halloween Bliss

Since this is K’s only second time waltzing into the holiday season, the only one that really “stuck” from last year was…yeah, you called it—Halloween.  Let’s face it, Thanksgiving isn’t REALLY a holiday for kids under the 10 year old mark (getting days off of school really only matter for the tweens and up, right?!)  And ChritmaHannuKwanzaaKet (Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Timket) can be a bit overwhelming to a kid who just learned English!

I admit, Fall is my FAVORITE season (not the we get real seasons in Cali).  I love the colors of fall, I look good in fall colors and I love how Disneyland decorates for Halloweentime!  K loves it too!!!  Pumpkins are recognizable.  Last year, I kinda shoved the holidays down his throat and I wanted him to experience EVERYTHING he could—meaning that I think we went to like 7 pumpkin patches last year and went trick-or-treating like 4 separate times at various locations.  Hey, he was a cute Buzz Lightyear and I wanted to get my money’s worth for that darn costume!!!

Well, as we walk into this Halloween season, it’s ALL he can talk about.  As you have seen, he will be a dinosaur, and not just any dinosaur—but the Buddy from Dinosaur Train who just so happens to be, according to K, the biggest dinosaur in the Cretaceous.  He is in LOVE with Pumpkins of any kind, but doesn’t quite know what a Jack-O-Lantern is.  He has been to (this year) 4 pumpkin patches and can’t get enough of them, but can’t be bothered with trick-or-treating!

You gotta love a kid who enjoys the simple things—a good costume, pumpkin patches where the pumpkins remain intact, and growling like a dinosaur!  Forget the candy or the anticipation of knowing that once this Halloween gig is over, it’s on to ChritmaHannuKwanzaaKet!  It’s allllllllllll about Halloween with my kid!!!

36 hours…

A couple of weekends ago, I had a bad one.  No matter what I did, it didn’t seem like I could get it together, as a mom.  K was in a mood—and granted, everyone is allowed to have a bad day, but we were jam-packed with activities with friends, so public meltdowns and attitude is NEVER fun.  It seemed like no matter what I did or how I corrected him, he was contrary. 

Well, within a 36-hour period, I cried at least 10 times.  Not just tears welling up in my eyes, but serious tears.  After about the third cry, I started keeping track.  Why not capture each moment where I had mini-meltdowns.  *Coach Gray was very supportive, just want y’all to know that!*

Sometimes, I feel really confident about this “being a mom” thing and on weekends like this, I feel like I suck worse than a moldy piece of bread! 

So here you go:

Some random commercial about a show on Lifetime Movie Network

K telling me “You my favorite Mommy!”

Tarzan—conversation with his mom about how they are different, but the same, “See we’re exactly the same!”

Tarzan—conversation with his mom when he is about to leave and he says, “No matter where I go, you will always be my mother.”

K refusing to say, “I love you” to me when he went to bed after a day of discipline and punishments.

K telling me he loved me, first words out of his mouth when he woke up in the morning.

Ending of Toy Story 3 (gets me every time!!!).

When K got dressed all by himself—head to toe (even socks and shoes—and on the right feet).

K telling me, “Our life is super big awesome Mommy!”

After trying to utilize different discipline techniques with K for being rude and sassy and not listening and _______________, and nothing seemed to work—I just sat down on the floor and cried!

Tuesday Truth-day! September 27, 2011

*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something!  It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!

Thank you lady in the Honolulu airport for your “kind” comments to me.  It would have been nice if you had just stepped to me like a grown up to share your thoughts about my raising a black child, but I guess not.  Sadly, you are clearly not a mature woman who can ask questions about our family, but make assumptions and then speak them loudly enough so that I can hear you.  And I know you were talking about us because, let’s face it, how many black kids with white Mamas were there at the Honolulu airport.  Jus sayin’!

I pity you, but at the same time, I have compassion for you, so that’s why I stepped to you and “confronted” you.  I know it caught you off guard, but oh well.  I know you weren’t prepared for me to want to sit next to you in the crowded gate area to ask you why you felt it necessary to make such comments about me or my child.  I know you were caught off guard when I asked you if you really wanted to know how we became a family and what I teach my son about his Ethiopian-American heritage.  I know it caught you off guard that I speak his native language and know how many countries make up the continent of Africa (not that this takes rocket science to know, but you didn’t know how many there were, so…).  I know you weren’t ready for me to tell you that I have taken my son to culture class, that we hang out with other Ethiopian-American kids, and that I take pride in and love his culture.  I know you weren’t prepared for my kindness towards you. Actually, you probably didn’t think that I would even say anything to you. Well, you were wrong.  And now you know that you were wrong on so many levels. 

So, thank you fellow traveler who lives in LA, but couldn’t tell me where “Little Ethiopia” was.  Thank you for making me even more determined to educate ignorant folks and to make sure that my son isn’t one of them!

PS—beware of the Mama Bear lady, and you best be thankful that I love God!  Believe that!

Tuesday Truth-day! September 20, 2011

*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something!  It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!

I get really frustrated when people want to give me parenting advice.  I know I have only been a Mama for 19 months, but give me some credit.  Really, give me some!  I am trying to figure it out just like you.  And let me just say, “Old Lady who has raised 4 kids 45 years ago, a lot has changed since then!” Also, my kid isn’t from my womb, I have a whole different set of issues to deal with than you child who probably doesn’t have abandonment issues or dealing with race issues or dealing with the IRS questioning if I “really” have a son even after I have supplied them with his US Birth Certificate and all my paperwork or dealing with people’s weird/stupid/ignorant questions about his “real” parents or how much he “cost”.  So… please just know that we are a family built through love.  We love each other forever.  And please keep your advice to yourself—unless I ask!  Just know, I know how to ask for help!

The worst part of my day…

I will just come out and say it—I hate mornings.  Ok, there, I said it.  Sadly, I feel like I spend the whole morning (all 82 minutes that I am awake prior to getting in the car to head to work/school) yelling at my kid.  And I don’t like it—not one bit.

When he wakes up at the crack of dawn (AKA—before my alarm), I feel like all I do is yell at him to “Shhhhh!  Be quiet!  Mommy is going to sleep for 2 more minutes!”  If he doesn’t wake up and I have already showered, gotten dressed, done my hair and makeup and am ready to get him up and running—I feel like I am rushing him!

I want him to wake up on my timeline, hear my words the FIRST time I tell him to stop running around naked, and really, son, for the 12^th time, it’s time to brush your teeth (I know you don’t want to, but you have to!!!  No, seriously!  RIGHT NOW!  Stop playing with your train and come in here!  Are you listening to me???  HELLO!?!?!?!). 

But he doesn’t.  He likes to wake up at his leisure, sing his Good Morning song, hug me four or five or 12 times…play on the patio with his _____________ (fill in the blank with ANY toy you deem appropriate), sit at my feet while I do my hair, OR any number of OTHER things that I DON’T need him doing.

Even once the upstairs battle is over, it’s now time to get in the car/car seat!  Oy vey!  How many times can a person say, “Please climb in!  NOW Son!!!”?  How many times can a human being say the phrase, “No, you cannot bring your _______________ (again, insert toy here) to school because I don’t want someone to take it!”  And, seriously, how many times can a person say, “I am not going to ask you again!”?  But the reality is, I will ask him again, if not today, I will say the same thing tomorrow and the next day and the next day!  And by now, he knows it!

I don’t wanna be angry morning Mama!  I don’t like it, but geesh, dude, just get in the frackin’ car!!!  NOOOOOOWWWWWW!!! 

Underfoot!

As you know, K and I have been a home, as a family, for 17 months.  By all accounts we have attached REALLY well.  My social worker has been “beyond pleased” with how we have attached to one another, he shows most of the signs for healthy attachment and my close circle of friends are amazed at how “well” he’s been doing.

But for the past 2 weeks, he has been almost physically attached to me when we are together.  He does fine when I drop him off at school.  He does fine when I leave him with my parents.  He does fine when I leave him with his Auntie.  However, when we are home, by ourselves, he is absolutely connected to me.  He won’t watch a TV show without me sitting with him.  And even then, he has to be sitting on me.  If I get up to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen, all it takes is around 10 seconds and he is right there asking, “Where did you go!  I was looking for you!”  

The other day, I was in the garage doing laundry and I couldn’t hear him calling me until he was in a complete meltdown screaming for me.  I run in to see if he is hurt and he is a blubbering mess asking me where I went!  He kept saying, “I was looking for you and I couldn’t find you!!!”  I know that this is still part of some abandonment issues that he’s working out (heck, let’s face it, most of us have abandonment issues and we weren’t, at one time, orphans!).  I also know that this is when I should have the most patience with him… but, sometimes, it drives me crazy and annoys the HECK outta me!!!  *Did I mention that it irritates me?

I would LOVE to be able to go to the bathroom without him coming in and sitting at my feet waiting for me.  I would love to be able to return a phone call in the evening without him coming in crying, saying, “I thought you left!”  I would love to cook dinner for us without him following me around the kitchen with his black stool (that I always trip over at least 5 times).  It’s usually at that point that I get (beyond) frustrated with him… but it isn’t his fault and I know it!  I know that this is the time when I need to exercise my patience even more with him.  And 92% of the time, I do… *Still doesn’t mean that I don’t get angry that other 8% of the time!!!

Yet, I love him and this is who he is.  I love every aspect of this amazing person whom I call my son!  I adore that he is loving.  I appreciate his love for life.  I, not only love him, I really like who he is.  So…I will continue to repeat that “Mommy ALWAYS comes back for K” and reassure him that I am not going anywhere.  And continue to repeat, “Mommy loves you FOREVER!”

Paramedic Crack Up!

Scene:  Driving home from church at a stop light, next to an ambulance.  I roll K’s window down because he LOVES anything with a siren and lights!

K:  Hi there!  Is that your ambalamps?

Ambulance Driver (AD):  Yes it is!  How are you buddy?

K:  I’m fine!  Can I drive your ambalamps right now?

AD:  Not today buddy.  Is that your Mommy?

K:  Yeah!  She doesn’t have a husband.

AD:  Oh, is that right?  (Looking at me then back to him)  Does she want one? (looking back at me!)

*Thankfully the light turned green and I sped off, with my son yelling, “Bye! See you later!”

Tuesday Truth-day! June 21, 2011

*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something!  It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!

I love when my kid doesn’t eat all his food on his plate.  I grew up in a household full of guilt.  My mother always forced us to eat everything on our plate before we could be excused from the table.  Not that I am (wholly) blaming her for my food addiction issues, but I think it did lay the foundation for bad eating habits.  

Well, not I’m a mom and K is a grazer.  He would eat every 2 hours if I would let him, and for the most part, I do.  Also, when he tells me that he’s finished, I don’t push it—even if it’s just one small bite.  He knows when he is full and I want him to listen to his body.  But I have to admit—his food is usually a lot more yummy than mine is and I am stoked when he doesn’t finish his pizza, or French fries, or fish sticks, or chicken fingers, or hamburger, or whatever.  And you all know why—because then, along with my pitiful salad and boneless, skinless chicken breast, I get a little bite of heaven (AKA CARBS and grease!).

It's Official!!!

We are so blessed to have found each other!!!

Since I don’t know what K’s birth mom looks like, this could be the lovely smile she shares…

DefCon 1

The tantrum.  The meltdown.  The random whining.  The kicking and screaming.  The limp body that won’t walk.  The thrusting of the body to the ground.  The complete breakdown in the middle of Target (or grocery store or the mall or a restaurant or church or airplane or ________________) that you have no clue as to why it was set off, but it did.  The possessed kid.  Clearly not MY child who is respectful and sweet and loving and caring and polite and…right?!  Hells yeah, that’s my kid. 

It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I affectionately refer to it as DEFCON 1!  For those of you who have NEVER seen War Games (the movie with Matthew Broderick), you are missing out, but I digress!  There is a point in the movie where, due to his nerdy genius, he has broken down the walls of the US Government’s Safety Net and “war is eminent” so they “take it” to DefCon 1.  This is how I feel when K pulls a knock down, drag out tantrum/fight/fit/cry fest/whatever!!!  It’s at that point where war is most certainly eminent.  Who shall win this battle, well, that remains to be seen.

Ironically enough, before I became a Mama, I had all the illusions/delusions/deceptions/ideas/false impressions/misunderstandings about my parenting techniques.  When I saw moms in the stores/restaurants/the street/ ____________________ with a toddler who was pitching a fit, my mental response was elitist, snarky and certainly something to the effect of “Hrmph!  Get it together lady!” 

Well, fast forward to my current life.  Now my response, when I see the sad, frustrated, tired eyes of a fellow toddler mom, is, “Girl, I have a 3 year old!  I get it!!!”  What I want to add (but don’t) is a hug or a pat on the back and a reminder that this too shall pass (until they go through puberty, but again, I digress!). 

There are two versions of this kind of meltdown:  public and private!  If it’s private, you just put him in his room and let him work it out.  Thank ya Jesus for a door!  Just sayin’!  Now, it’s if public.  Oi Vey!  Make it stop!  No really, make it stop NOW!  The Public DefCon 1 experience is horrifying/unspeakable/appalling/and just strait up terrible.  I know that other non-moms and the general public are thinking, “Just shut that kid up!”  Or maybe they are judging my parenting skills (which are clearly not effective at that moment).  Usually when this happens, I make the choice to leave the shopping cart, leave the restaurant, leave wherever, and just go home and deal with it there.  The beauty of the private meltdown is that no one judges you for how you choose to handle this kind of temper tantrum! No one is giving you the “cough” hint or the evil eye or the “look over your shoulder” look. 

So, I know that I haven’t given a solution for this kind of catastrophe.  I wish I had some pearls of wisdom to share with you, my friends.  I wish I had all the answers (well maybe not all of them, but some would be nice).  All I can do is just be consistent with my son.  All I can do is remind him that no matter how he acts, I love him, but that kind of behavior is unacceptable.  I can continue to do things that I *think* are working while still remembering that he is, in fact, three years old.  Sometimes there is nothing you can do. Sometimes, all you can do is just laugh!  Cause if you don’t, you just might cry!