Three Days

My parents took my two oldest kids, Sophie and Max, up to Rabbit Lake for the rest of the week. I've been looking forward to this ever since my mom casually mentioned taking the kids once school was out and I forced her to pick dates and make it official. Just kidding, sort of. My mom and dad wanted this time with my kids and I think it's good for kids to get away from time to time. And my parent have lots of fun things planned, so I know, from my kids' perspective, these days are going to fly by.

Leading up to this morning, when my parents came to get the kids, I fantasized about what I would do with all of my time. Granted, I still have Lily, so I'm not completely child free, but she's only one kid, and she naps. And she's still fairly easy to take places. I thought about all of the shopping I could do (I'll finally get a rug for the kids' bathroom!) and the projects I can get done around the house (clean out closets and organize the rough side of the basement!). I also thought about the friends I could see now that I have three totally non-scheduled days ahead! Suddenly three days didn't seem like enough time!

And then they left.

Believe it or not, I actually had to fight back tears as they pulled out of the driveway. What am I going to do without my babies, I thought. Who am I going to talk to all day? I started thinking about how funny they are! How sweet. How Sophie likes to write "I love you. Yes I do." on every piece of paper that she finds. Or how Max, in the middle of coloring in his Super Heroes coloring book, will stop and say "Mom, I love you." I'm going to miss watching Sophie ride her bike like a pro, and the way Max forgets he's wearing his helmet and will suddenly realize it when he's watching TV. I miss their hugs and kisses. I miss how they entertain Lily for hours on end. I never really realized it before, but I like my kids. I mean really like them. Not because I have to, but because they're great kids!

Then, after I put Lily down for her nap, I did something I haven't done in years. I sat and watched Young and the Restless. Don't misunderstand, I watch Y&R almost every day. But I never sit and watch it. There wasn't any laundry to fold. No kitchen dishes to wash or put away. No toys to pick up. No one interrupted me to ask if I could get some tape/scissors/gum/water/snacks. I watched the entire thing without getting up once (Adam is alive! I knew it! And what do you think about Billy...does he really love Victoria or is he scamming her?). It felt strange, like I was doing something wrong. I kept looking around as if I heard someone approaching, but no one was there. I kept thinking I should vacuum, but then remembered that the cleaners were here yesterday and my house is spotless. I'd already done my project for the day (cleaning out the front closet), so all that was left to do was relax.

It's a fine balance. My kids aren't here, and I miss them. But when they are here, I miss the freedom to do what I want to do, like sit, when I want to do it. Even though I'm going to enjoy my three-day break (and I am, trust me), more than anything, it's going to be a good reminder of how much I like having my kids around. (Mom, I might need this reminder one or two more times throughout the summer. Just kidding, sort of.)

Good Touch, Bad Touch

A month or so ago a mom in the neighborhood sent out the name and phone number of a babysitter she was using. I have sitters that I trust and that my kids know very well, so I never called this new recommendation. Thankfully. Earlier this week that mom warned us against ever having that babysitter around our children. She said it was the worst we could imagine. The sitter had touched her four-year-old daughter.

Something like this is every parent's nightmare. I have always been hyper aware, maybe too much so, when it comes to other people being around my children. I don't want to instill fear in my kids, but I want them to know that it's not okay for anyone, ever, to touch them inappropriately. And even more importantly, that we don't keep secrets from each other. I know that someday, as teenagers, my babies aren't going to tell me everything. But I believe this is the first step in letting them know that they can. And they aren't teens yet. At this point there is nothing they should be keeping from Wade and me.

I'll never forget when our pediatrician, during Sophie's regular well-check, had to put his hands just under the waistband of her underpants. Before he touched her he told her what he was going to do and then said, "The only reason this is okay is because your mommy is standing right here." I was so grateful that he had handled it that way. It didn't scare her or make her think she needed to be afraid, but it also clearly sent the message that someone touching her "there" was not normally acceptable.

I have had several conversations with Sophie and Max concerning "good touch and bad touch." I, like most parents, have heard to teach your children that no one should touch them where their bathing suit covers. Of course, I agree with that, but I have taken it a step further. I tell my kids that if anyone touches them and it makes them uncomfortable, they need to tell me. I figure, I can decide what's a good touch or a bad touch better then they can. For instance, if someone puts their hand on Sophie's inner thigh, I consider that a "bad touch" (this has never happened, I'm simply making a point). But her swimming suit doesn't cover her inner thigh, so by those rules it's a "good touch." I believe that kids know, instinctively, if something feels out of sync. I also believe that for the creep who is inappropriately touching a child, it's not always about where. So if my son comes to me and says his friend's dad touched his leg and it didn't feel right, I will trust that intuition with all of my being and Max would never be allowed near that man again (once more, this has never happened...and I pray, every time I send my kids to a friend's house, that it won't).

I tell my kids they should never be alone with an adult when they are at a friend's house. I tell them that I will never send someone they don't know to pick them up from school (or anywhere). I tell them if someone tries to take them, it's okay to hit and scream and bite and kick. Never approach someone in a car or a van. I tell my kids that their body is theirs and no one, NO ONE, should touch it in any way that makes them feel uncomfortable. From time to time, in a light-hearted way, I quiz my kids on what to do in certain situations. So far, they give me the right answers.

Unfortunately, the only way to know if I'm handling this in the right way is for one of my kids to come to me and tell me something has happened. So, obviously, I'm praying that all of my worry and preparation will be for naught. But I suppose the almost invisible silver lining for that mom in my neighborhood is that her daughter did tell her about that babysitter. Because if she hadn't, who knows how many kids around here would have fallen victim. Hooray for that brave four-year-old little girl. And kudos to the mom who taught her not to keep a secret.

Slow Down

The other day, as I instructed the car ahead of me to get out of my way, my 6-year old daughter asked me why I'm always talking to the people driving other cars. My polite answer was, "I'm helping them drive better." She thought about that for a minute and then replied, "But how can you be helping them when they can't hear you."

I definitely have a bit (ahem) of road rage. But I'm in a hurry and other people are in my way. What I have noticed, however, is how often I seem to be hurrying...even when I have no particular reason. For instance, I'll tell the kids to get their shoes on and get ready to go to Target. Suddenly it's like I can't get them in the car fast enough. I'm yelling to "pick up the pace," "we need to get going", "I don't have all day." Funny thing is, sometimes I do.

Granted, there are many days, the majority of our days, when we have to be somewhere (school, church, playdates, practices) at a certain time. And most, if not all of those days, I'm hurrying out the door, sure that I'm going to be late. Yelling at the kids, swearing under my breath as I forget my purse or the car keys. Is the dog in her kennel? Did you remember your backpack? We're finally on the road... and usually early.

So, what about those precious days when we don't have any plans? When the only thing on the schedule is a trip to the park or some grocery shopping? They should be relaxing. Slower paced. But I can't seem to turn the dial to a slower setting. I'm still going going going.

My goal for this summer is to slow down. I hear so many other moms talking about what they are going to have their kids do this summer, but when they ask me I think my answer is going to be "slow down." Sophie and Max each want to play a sport, and I'm all for that, but I'm leaning against the day camps and other classes. Our family seems so busy lately, and summers go by so fast (especially here in MN). I don't want to spend it running around, dropping one kid here and another one there. I want to walk to the park, watch them play in the yard, read books on rainy days.

So, if you see me out on the roads this summer, hopefully I'll have a smile on my face and give you a wave hello. If not, it's probably best if you just get out of my way.