Gentleman-In-Training

Do any of you other boy moms ever think about what kind of husband your sons might be someday?
I thought about it a lot over the summer while I was doing ALL of the dishes, ALL of the laundry, and ALL of the straightening up around the house.  I won't claim I did ALL of the cooking, because summer is grill season and I leave that to the Doc.  I wouldn't want to take all of that fun with fire away from him.  Or maybe... I just never learned how to use the grill and the Doc is so darn good at it.
But I digress.
Admittedly, in a moment of anger, I hit the ceiling one day.  I had enough of waiting on these boys hand and foot and decided I was no longer going to be bound by servitude to these young men in my home.  What the heck was I thinking when I cleaned dishes for a 14 and 9 year old boy every day?
It was time to rock that boat.
One month after my meltdown, my boys are still grumbling, but this mama is a whole lot happier. These are things they need to know how to do someday when they are on their own.  It's all about training, right?
And as I started to pat myself on the back while thinking their future wives will love me someday, I had another wake up call.
The date.

I took my 9 year old on a date.  

The Doc took our oldest to the high school football game and let Jacob and I have the Blue Man Group tickets.  Jacob and I would always choose a show over a hot and sweaty football game.
Jacob and I were really excited about our night out.
As we began planning our evening, I realized that I had a long road ahead of me in preparing my little Romeo for his dating future. The following is a list of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Bad - He fussed about having to wear fancy clothes.  Fancy clothes meant a shirt with a color (Underarmour, of course) and khaki pants.  He wanted to wear flip flops with athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Good - He kept telling me that I looked pretty and he loved my hair. Bad - He wanted to take me to McDonald's. Worse - His alternate option for dinner was Taco Bueno. Worst - His third and final dinner offering was Sonic. The Compromise - We ate at Chili's.  I didn't want Chili's but at least it didn't have a drive through. Good - He wanted us to sit on the same side of the booth. Good - Again, he tells me I look pretty and kisses my cheek. (sweet, sweet boy!)

Best - He brings a dollar to buy us a "romantic treat" at the show. Not-So-Good - The "romantic treat" costs $2 and he chooses Skittles, knowing how I detest Skittles. The Ugly - I have plenty of money to cover the Skittles and buy myself a consolation bag of M&Ms.  I ate the whole darn bag by myself in about 5 seconds. Good - Once again, I get to hear how pretty I look.  I'm beginning to believe it less and less and wonder when the next request is coming. (Note to self - Jacob needs to expand his vocabulary a bit)
It looks like I will be having to tell this child that his flattering words will only take him so far.  
I'm so glad I have a little time to set things straight.

My fancy man puts up a rockin' pose with the Blue Man Group band!

All joking and grading system aside, an evening with my 9 year old is always a highlight. Always. Let the training begin!

Mrs. Priss
Feeling pretty... oh, so pretty... like


(Name that musical!)

Welcome To The Jungle

We just started school this week, but the two weeks before school started were full of visits from family.  My kiddos had a great time with their cousins.  The weather was not hot enough to spend a day in the pool (Oklahoma... in August... what??) but it was absolutely perfect for a day at the zoo.  
You are either a zoo person, or you are not. We are zoo people.
For my sister and I, the day was a time of reflection from zoo trips as kids.  My mom was quick to mention the polar bears mating at my 6th birthday party.  My sister had sweet memories of riding on the train with our grandfather.  Me?  I just love the zoo.
I'm fairly certain the boys' memories for the visit will revolve around seeing this.

I wonder what has captured the boys' attention?

I have video (of course!) but I will not make you watch the horrors we witnessed. We went straight from butt-picking monkeys to nose-picking statues. That's how it is when you have boys.

Picking the Chia Head's nose...

My oldest son, Michael, took a selfie with a goat in the petting zoo.   I guess this goat gets his picture taken a lot because he put a nice big grin on his face!

Say CHEESE!

Every trip to the Tulsa Zoo involves spinning the world around.  If you've been here, you know what I am talking about.  No matter how many times you come here, they must must must spin that thing.

My two boys with my three nephews

When it was all said and done, big red (my Michael) carried little red (my nephew) out of the zoo so we could go get some ice cream.

And in case you were wondering, the ice cream was my favorite part of the day.
Fall is almost here and the weather will be perfect for being outdoors. How will you spend your days?




Mrs. Priss
Hanging outdoors for a change like...

Who's Yer Mama?

I was thinking back on some sweet childhood memories recently.  I was thinking about who different individuals in my family were to me as a child versus the relationship we have now that I am an adult.  As a child, some relatives valued me more than others.  I'm not saying they didn't love me, I am saying some embrace your childishness more than others.  Some relatives just prefer to spend time with a more mature crowd.  Hopefully this makes sense. It was at this time that I switched my thinking around a bit.

When my children grow up, how will they remember me?
There is a fine line between teaching your children and nagging them.  Will they think I was a nag because of the many times I have lost patience over a messy room?  Will they wish their mother had played with them more?  Will they tell me I made casseroles just to make them miserable? I seriously don't think they will thank me for their clean rooms or forcing them to do their homework. I am going to be very honest.  While there are many things I could improve on, I am going to focus on one.  I have noticed that my ability to be patient has been strained and I am starting to yell more.  I hate that.  Patience used to be one of my biggest virtues.  I have decided I am going to change back to the old me.  

I attended a conference recently about approaching difficult conversations.  The workshop was intended to teach us how to better communicate with schools for our child with special needs.  There were so many things in that workshop that can apply to your own personal, everyday life.  One thing stuck with me in a big way and I have decided to make that my own goal.  Want to hear it?   Here we go.
Decide WHO you are going to be in every conversation and commit to BE that person. It is very simple, really.  Am I going to be the crazy, angry, middle-aged woman or the mom who can get things accomplished with love, patience, kindness and gentleness?  At the end of the day, both types can achieve the same goal but only one fills their children's hearts with the right stuff.  Only one will grow the type of person that I wish my children to become.  

Who we are is a choice we make.  We can blame past experience, upbringing, genetics, lack of sleep, health, hunger, or present situations but we always have the power to choose how we respond to them. 

For me, I know my faith will bring me through it.  I can pray for the fruit of the spirit and intentionally think things through before I lose my head over the little things in life.  I can plan ahead and prepare for situations.  I can think through positive reinforcements to get the behaviors I want from my children.  I can prepare myself to deal with the meltdown that will ensue from natural consequences that my children will not like.  I know that preparation is the key.  It isn't about being a pushover, it is about being the mother and woman God calls me to be.
So, when you think about it - how will the people in your life remember you someday?

Mrs. Priss

Loving on my kids like...

Sassy

My grandmother used to get mad at me and call me "Sassy."  And I didn't like it.
I've decided "Sassy" suits me quite well these days.And I do like it.
Funny how that happens.
What goes around comes around, though.  I now have a thirteen year old boy living in my house.  The sassy factor has been growing and developing since around the age of nine.  I know you're going to say your kids were born this way, but mine wasn't.  I think it's his Asperger's that kept it at bay for so long.
In trying to teach this gangly pubescent boy a thing or two, I employ my best friend - Sarcasm.  Michael and I are both good friends with Sarcasm.  
A few days ago, Michael knocked over a plastic pitcher from the drying rack by the sink.  He kept walking and was ignorant of the fact that he was slowly destroying my kitchen.  This is a common occurrence in a house of boys.
I decided to capture this teachable moment in a way only I would do.  
Priss: "When I knock something over, I pick it up!"(Insert grand gesture where I pick up the pitcher in an exaggerated manner and place it on the drying rack with a huge forced grin on my face)
He does not miss a beat.  With an expression that only a teen could give, Michael immediately responds: "Glad I'm not you."
I laugh.He laughs.
I'm so glad we are able to communicate so efficiently.

Mrs. Priss

with a wee bit of sass.

The Mom - Defined

Mother's Day is coming up!I was going to do a cutesy post about being moms, but I started thinking about being a mom and how it has changed me.  Oh boy - has it ever changed me!

Mrs. Priss' boys - 2007

Today, I'm going to tell you about the first time I really became an empowered mother.
As many of you may know, my son Michael was diagnosed with Asperger's at the age of three.  I was educating myself as fast as I could but the world was taking the reins.  I relied on therapists, books and teachers to guide me as I learned what Michael's needs were.  I was so worried that I would miss something and it would ruin Michael's life forever.  I trusted these people to lead me through it.  I lacked confidence and was never one to speak up.  This may shock those of you who know me.
The year that Michael was in the four-year-old preschool program at the school, things didn't go so well.  I began to not trust the teacher.  All she shared were negative things.  She didn't appear to make much effort, either.  My sweet Michael was struggling to make it through a half-day in her class and came home keyed up.  I was disappointed in her but also carrying the guilt of knowing that my son was more difficult to manage than most. 
The Doc and I decided maybe it was time to try private school.  With high hopes, we met with the principal and explained our situation.  He said they would be glad to have him.  It was the middle of the school year, but we felt he could enter the class and things would be better in this private, Christian setting.  
It was anything but that.
As the semester dragged on, I began to cry every time the phone rang because the school called about something bad - every single day.  My child was constantly suspended for many things ranging from "refusal to color" to "biting."  Yeah, biting.  That biting thing was a one time deal and a turning point for us.  Michael was being bullied by his classmates and over-disciplined by his teachers and no one would do a thing about it.  I kept trying to figure out how my mild-mannered child had become such a mess.  I trusted that the teacher had his best interests in mind and was appropriately dealing with his behavior.  I was even punishing him at home for his reported behavior by taking away his favorite toys.
We got the call one day from the principal that Michael was going to be suspended for biting another child on the playground the day before.  The incident took place on the playground and the child hadn't reported it to his teacher, but his mom called when she saw the bite marks that night.  This boy had a bite mark on his stomach and said my son had done it.  All the moms out there know that a stomach is a weird place to bite.  I knew instantly there was a lot more to the story than the school was telling.
No one had even bothered to find out from Michael what happened.
When got Michael home, the Doc and I quizzed him.  One of the problems was that Michael never told on the other kids when they were doing stuff to him.  His communication wasn't very good then, but he looked at his dad with tears in his eyes and said, "I didn't let them tear my clothes off."  
Those boys were bullying him and one had pinned him down to the ground.  That bite was his attempt to get the other kid off of him.  My child had to use self-defense and no one came to his aid.
When we finally got the whole story from Michael, the tides had turned.  I was no longer crying out of despair, I was crying from anger.  
Yes, I cry a lot.  
I realized that day that if I didn't look out for my child and defend him every time, no one else would.  I didn't have the luxury of trusting other experts to drive this car.  It was my job (and Doc's) alone.  I no longer take a teacher's assessment at face value.  I question it thoroughly to make sure that everything makes sense.  I question Michael thoroughly to see what was going on in his head.  Then I think it through and use my mothering instinct.  I trust that instinct now.
It took about three months after school was over before I got my sweet boy back.  He was a mess of anxiety!  And his public school Kindergarten teacher helped me know I could trust again.  There are some wonderful teachers out there.
Nowadays, when something is wrong, I don't hesitate to intervene.  You'd better be able to back up your case if something is going wrong in your classroom.  Michael does not get away with much, but he knows his mother will defend him.  The world does not understand Asperger's and I'm hear to advocate for Michael.  I've done a some advocating for my little Jacob as well.  Every kid needs an advocate, you know.
That's the day I had had enough.It's the day they woke the Mama Bear in me.


And I still cry a lot.But that goes with the territory, right?

Do you remember a significant moment that defines you as a parent? 

Mrs. Priss

who wishes you a Happy Mother's Day --

and reminds you to be thankful for your own mothers!

How To Get A Boy's Attention

The answer is simple.
Get in the bathtub.

I'm not usually a bathtub kind of gal, but when I decide to take one I hang out for a while and relish the peace and quiet.  I put my iPad in a big plastic baggie and read my books on it while I soak in the hot water.
It is lovely.

Well, it's supposed to be lovely.

It is a guarantee that at least two out of three boys in my house will have the need to come in and talk to me about something.  Rarely are these somethings that are an emergency - but you knew that.

And as I always think I am freezing to death, the bathroom heaters are on full blast to keep me warm.  Don't worry about shutting the door, honey.  I'd like to heat up the rest of the house too.

But sometimes they do shut the door (without me yelling it out).  During these times it is also inevitable that one or both dogs will follow the boys into my bathroom and end up trapped in there with me.

Snicker thinks it is too hot and starts pacing around the bathroom.  Doodle just stands there and stares at me without blinking.  It's hard to relax with this in your face.

Whatcha doin?

What happened to my peaceful moment?
Boys.

In the past, I haven't locked the door in case someone really needed to talk to me.  I tried to just pretend this was part of family life.  As of yesterday, it is no longer part of family life.  Doors are no longer made to be opened.

Operation LOCK THE DOOR is going into effect immediately.

Something about an 8 year old boy walking in and staring at you will make you think twice about an open door policy.

Something about an 8 year old boy laughing and pointing at you telling you your b00bies look funny will make you never forget to lock a door.

Not that I would know.
It's just a story I once heard.


~ Mrs. Priss






who can't keep the boys away...