Life with 3 Kids | Kid Things

It Takes a Village

May 02 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: motherhood, nostalgia, q&a

Forgive me as I veer into one of those “back in my day” posts for a moment.

Back in my day, I was playing outdoors by myself when I was 5, in our large open yard. I’d sit in the grass, watch the clouds, or swing on my metal swingset while my parents went about their own thing. It wasn’t unusual to ride my bike around our village or walk some houses down to see my friend. Because we all knew it was safe. I’d get checked on sporadically, but they let me be for the most part, finally calling me in for dinner after a full day spent in the sun, my mother’s voice ringing for me through the neighborhood.

This was almost 30 years ago, though. Things were different. The area I grew up in was different. Country-like, woods, a lot of nature. It seemed close-knit and closed off from all the problems that come from living someplace larger and busier. Which, while it isn’t a large city we live in now, it’s still a city nonetheless with everything that comes with it.

My oldest son is 7 years old. I’m just beginning to feel comfortable letting him play by himself in the front section of our yard. Where I can award him the semblance of privacy while still keeping an ever watchful eye on him.

I do not want him out of my eyesight.

I trust him. It’s not him I don’t trust. My son knows right from wrong and what he should or should not do. He’s a good kid, a great kid, a safe kid. But there are bad people out there. This is not back in my day or the setting I grew up in. It’s a lot different when I’m on the other side.

So I’m asking you, at what age do you think it’s appropriate to allow a child outside alone? To ride his bike around the neighborhood, if my son rode a bike which is another story? Am I too restricting with my 7 year old? Or should I set him completely free and just buy him a bus pass and send him off with a good luck, kid?

7 Comments

Comparing Stickers to Sundaes

April 28 2011

Posted in: Daily · Tags: life, motherhood, of course

Do you know what “fun” thing I don’t understand?

Stickers.

Even as a kid myself, stickers seemed to come with a severely limited fun-potential. There isn’t a lot to do with them. There are really only 2 options that I can think of:

1.) A sticker book. Which may seem like a great idea to keep all those stickers contained, but also boring.

2.) Tag your surroundings. Which, let’s face it, is much more enjoyable as far as stickers go. Still not a great option if you’re a parent, though. Because if your child has ever had stickers, you know you’ll be peeling those off surfaces for days, if not weeks, to come.

Buzz was given a gift box of stickers for his birthday. Not just a single sheet or even a pack, a gift box. In total, there are 100 Superhero stickers to do… something… with. Sure, all that stickiness appears enticing at first. But it’s like a hot fudge sundae; sweet and delicious, but full of empty calories that have nowhere productive to go.

He has more stickers than should ever be allowed. I can’t keep up. I’m finding pieces of Spiderman and Wolverine on the carpet, Iron Man riding shotgun on the bottom of my foot, a blue Beast tangled in my hair, and Blade adhered to my clothes. Most of all, however, they have begun to set up a perimeter of super crime fighters on my walls. All over my walls. Where that swath of pristine space is just too tempting.

Stickers. I don’t get it. But it seems I’m literally stuck with them.

12 Comments

Yes Joey No Joey No

April 27 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Abby, family

We have spent a lot of time with my parents this week, Abby and I. While the boys were with their dad this past weekend, my daughter and I went out to lunch with her Grandma and Grandpa then went shopping with Grandma before traveling back to their house for dinner. Where Abby was immensely excited to see their dog, Joey.

“Go see Joey?”, she asked hopefully.

“Yes, we are going to see Joey”, I affirmed.

“Joey!”, she cheered.

She was so excited. So excited that she could barely contain herself in her carseat. As we pulled into my parents’ driveway, she began the happy bounce. Nose wrinkled in jubilant anticipation of this canine that she hadn’t seen since Christmas. That she wouldn’t go anywhere near then. It would never hurt her, but this thing with the paws and the tail that keeps wagging back and forth, get it away! Which made her enthusiasm to see him now a little baffling.

“Joey!” she continued on as I unbuckled her from the carseat.

“Joey!”, she kept on as we walked up their front steps.

“Joey!”, as we opened the door.

Then, as Joey came darting out to greet us, stumpy and fat and furry, just as excited to see her as she had been for him, she curled back into my shoulder. The smile disappeared, the lip pouted.

“No Joey! Bad Joey!” And that remained her stance every time he so much as looked at her until we were safely on our way home.

2 year olds are a very confusing bunch.

32 Comments

Give Me 5

April 26 2011

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: birthday, Buzz, letters

Dearest Buzz,

They stopped letting me go back with you.

I knew it was coming. I also know it’s best. Just one of the many parts of growing up.

They’re beginning to prepare you for this big, wide world.

It’s not like I get to go with you every day once you head to school.

The hardest part, the saddest part, was that you looked back to me as if I was sitting behind on purpose. “Mommy?”, I heard you ask, though your hands safely held by your two teachers. Therapists, really, but I prefer to call them teachers. Because whether from them or us, you have learned so much since you’ve started going. Even when it may seem like it’s all just play.

“He really likes to use his scissors now”, one of his teachers began to fill me in when you emerged 45 minutes later. You were smiling and happy, as always. A Harry Potter sticker in one hand for a job well done, immediately running to put your other hand in mine. Your mommy, no matter how big you get. Forever and ever. The one that’s just supposed to be alright with letting you go. “And puzzles. He’s very good at puzzles.”, she continued, showing me letters you tried to trace into your name.

5 years ago today, we first said hello.

5 years later, you like scissors and puzzles and you mimic the Incredible Hulk and you like running off when you’re not supposed to. We’re on to the next step now. But I hope you never stop looking for me, asking for me. And I will always be there, eager and ready for your hand. Forever and ever. No matter what. Right outside the door, or wherever you may need me. You will never have to face this big, wide world alone.