Team Gray!

Ed. note: Xay has been reading faster than I can keep up with him. He has resorted to reading all the silly little scholastic books we’ve ordered through the years. This book has been sitting on the kids’ bookshelf for years, and Xay is the first to read it. I thought he should do a *fun* Read the rest of this entry »

Just because I like children doesn’t mean I want to run a daycare.

I was cured of that many years ago.

We were living in our last house, a small rental not far from my parents. Ellen, our neighbor across the street ran a daycare. Yanni was in school at the time, and I had Xay in preschool two days a week. Our next door neighbors were homeschoolers. I thought they were very strange. Gary, the man, loved yard care so much that he mowed our lawn–unsolicited. Spencer and Tyler, their two little boys, at first seemed at war with Yanni and Xay. Then, when Yanni and Xay patronized their lemonade stand, everything changed. Spencer and Tyler came over every day in the summer asking if the kids could play.

They were really too old for Xay, as Spencer, the youngest, was a few months older than Yanni. When it was just Xay and me on the weekdays, he’d look longingly at the swing-set across the street. There were always a few dirty children playing, too. One day, Xay and I took the plunge and walked across the street.

Ellen was very friendly and invited us to stay. Xay tried his first bologna sandwich, and he liked it! Ellen left me with the children while she went in the house several times. They asked me to push them on the swing, look at their cool pranks, etc., what children always do at the playground. It was way past naptime, almost time to pick Yanni up when we finally pulled ourselves away.

Ellen thanked me and told me to come back anytime.

I don’t remember returning to the playground for a while. I did take Khari and Tchad there that summer that we watched them for a week. My friend Carol and her husband Linwood were particularly excited when I told them I was thinking about running a daycare. They would be our first customers, they informed me. Then, one summer, they went on a cruise for their anniversary and asked us to watch Khari and Tchad. Khari was a year younger than Yanni, and Tchad a year younger than Xay. I had just taken Xay out of diapers for good, and here I had diaper clad Tchad.

Yanni was 6, Khari, 5, Xay 3, and Tchad was 2. Khari was really shy, and never showed much of an interest in anything. I felt like that was how he controlled his surroundings. Tchad was friendly, but pre-verbal, and a thumbsucker. I was terrified that the children would cry and hate it at our house.

Instead, they sucked their thumbs and didn’t say much of anything. At the time, Yanni was not naturally kind to Xay, and her bad attitude rubbed off on Khari. We found ourselves punishing her for her bad attitude about her brother by making her read the Bible, and keeping her inside while everyone else went out to play.

It was extremely stressful. I developed a love of gardening, just to escape the tension in the house!

Eventually, we found ourselves at Ellen’s playground. She had quite a bit of land behind her house, and as it turned out, her husband’s family owned all the land on the tiny dead-end street where they lived. She wanted to train me as her assistant. She really pursued me to work with her.

I resisted. Something about the stress of watching other peoples’ children.

I am a playful person. When I had just the two, I would go to the playground and play with them. We’d swing, slide, play in the sand together. It was great. And I was a magnet for other children. They’d be trying to get me to watch their stunts–instead of watching my own children’s stunts. They’d be trying to get me to push them in the swing, too. I desperately started looking around for other parents. If they were there at all, they were off reading a book or talking.

When Yanni went to school, I would volunteer in the classroom most days. Xay and I would go in and play with the children during center time. Again, I could barely even glimpse Yanni and what she was doing for all the other children crowding me, trying to get my attention. I like playing with all kinds of kids, but it can take away from my own. Yanni was a withdrawn, shy person when she was in school.

I signed her up for girl scouts. Again, I was like the only mother that stuck around for the meeting. Before I knew it, I was cookie mom, then assistant leader. By the time we had started homeschooling, I was in charge of the junior troop–and i never went to one training meeting! Girl Scouts was the same scenario–all the needy girls vying for my attention, while Yanni withered on the vine alone. Quitting was an easy decision.

I won’t even go into my stint as a children’s choir director. More of the same, only my children were younger.

So, when I babysit for other children, it’s let me try to entertain them, let me run around behind them, let me assure their every comfort no matter what. Where did Yanni sleep for the week+ that Katie and Jessie were here? The floor. I’m sorry, Yanni. I have really tried to reform my old ways, and then other people’s children come around, and I get nervous.

I remember the summer that Esteban was born. That was the summer that the Rutherfords decided not to sign their children up for day camp all summer, and instead to have them come over here. I had been wanting to have them the year before, but, come on! I had just had a baby. And after Esteban was born, I could barely walk for a month, and that sciatic nerve pain was piercing for 6 weeks. I needed Yanni and Xay to be at Mani and Joy’s beck and call, but with other children here all the time, they were in play mode 24/7. To say I felt squeezed would be an understatement.

Will I ever learn to say no? I am starting to resent that everyone that sees me wants to call me mommy.

So, I’m thinking about making a sign for the front door. It should read something like: Daycare Closed. This is a family, not an institution, and just because we have several children does not mean that we are accepting any more. We are not automatically available for after school care, either. Please phone ahead. We have a life.

just. shoot. me. now.

I lay on the floor of the ‘classroom,’ chanting this to myself. Jessie came over with an impish grin. She has the cutest smile–with dimples–and she climbed on me. Completely oblivious to my swollen belly, or strangely drawn to it, Jessie is always trying to sit on the basketball that kicks.

It was the first night of the siege babysitting.

So, yesterday it was a week. And. they’re. still. here.

Yesterday we all went to the park to meet with the Martins, our friends with 8 children. 7 of them were there, and 7 of us were there. Only their 7 are mostly older. They have one baby, and the next youngest is 5. We had our two 2 year olds, one almost 4, and one 4, plus Mani, (newly 6), who has been getting testier and testier as the week has dragged out drawn on.

We’re at the park. It’s a beautiful day. There’s a huge climbing structure with several slides, sand, and see-saws. And they’re not happy.

So, after standing in the direct sun for two hours, not to mention running after small children, etc., I had a splitting headache. Katie’s moo cry was boring into my skull by evening.

We are at home. They are running around, shrieking, chasing, playing with balls, scattering blocks, trying on shoes, jumping on the couch. . . and happy. I am insane. You will find me in the street tomorrow, incoherent, blithering, wandering. . .

I didn’t think my own children were particularly independent, until I had to deal with the high maintenance sisters. I forgot about the insistence of the word ‘potty’ to a 2 year old. They are independent in one way, though. I never had a two year old who could open a door before. Jessie can. And then she goes potty alone and gets her dress wet, plays with the toilet paper, and the toilet water, Esteban gleefully joining in the fun. . .

Katie, who is completely potty independent still yells “I gotta potty!” loudly every. single. time. she has to go, and won’t go until someone escorts her, or tells her to go. I am not used to this.

Now, if it was just the two, that would be ok. But those two make seven over here, which is just about how pregnant I am, so I am just a tad psychotic.

And dumb as hell, because I have told the parents to take their time getting back. What was I thinking? I was thinking they’d be back two days ago. That’s what.

Then there’s that lying thing. Really cute, and innocent, I’m sure. I remember when Mani started talking about “Joy’s lying!” I thought that was so hilarious, that I started saying it, and it pretty much stopped soon thereafter. But Katie will do something, and then start yelling, “Jessie did it!” After she’d been here a few days, it was, “Esteban did it,” or “Joy did it!” The best one was the other day. I was in the kitchen cooking, and for some reason Katie and Esteban, Joy and Jessie were all in there too. I was washing dishes when Curtis came in and asked, “what’s that?” Someone had poured barbecue sauce on the purple kitchen rug and Katie was sitting there wide-mouthed, gawking. “She did it,” she said, pointing at me. “She’s lying,” I tattled.

Bedtime is. . . interesting. My children are used to hearing a story. Esteban is not good at sitting still for a longer story, but he still likes to come and listen for a while. Katie and Jessie are constantly grabbing at toys and jumping around and distracting who they can during story time. With great duress, ie. holding the child’s arm, I was able to get Jessie to sit still long enough to hear the last 2 pages of a 6 page book. I called her attention to the pictures and asked her questions about them to engage her, and she forgot that I had a death grip on her arm. Katie sat still without as much fuss, and she also focused on the pictures. AMEN.

Then came the prayer. More distraction. This time, sliding off the coffee table, Xay in hot pursuit. They get giddy when someone is chasing them.

We had to practice ignore tactics. And spanking. And time-outs. And reverse psychology, and sarcasm. And creative correction. . .

Mealtime: ‘yucky!’ Jessie says of peanut butter and jelly. ‘Yucky! I don’t wanna!” Katie says of barbecue chicken. I muse at the hours of my life that I have lost due to all the extra food preparation–of yucky food. I don’t think they ate one vegetable the whole week. . . “I want carrots!” Katie demands at dinner tonight. “Carrots aren’t on the menu,” I inform her, “And you don’t eat carrots anyway.” “It’s a wonder my mother didn’t kill us,” Curtis clucked, shaking his head.

Kevin and Christie corral the girls in the living room with a few toys and strong gates. I can’t say as I blame them. I berated myself all week for all the stuff in the house, cursing my open floor plan. . .

When the week started, Katie and Jessie slept in Mani and Joy’s room with a little Fischer Price table and two chairs, plus two rocking chairs. By mid-week, I’d removed the chairs from the room, having caught Katie springing Jessie from the crib during nap-time. By today, I had banished the table to the basement, sick of them standing on it to get the things off the top shelf of the closet.

An empty room is looking really good about now.

Zeke was over the other day, faxing in the basement with Curtis. He heard all the shrieking, running, crying, balls bouncing, etc. When he called at 3:30, saying Jake was on his way over, these words actually left my lips: “God hates me.” I caught myself, and realized it was the devil trying to take me out. I prayed for help; Xay was gone, so there was no one for Jake to play with, really. It turned out to be a good evening. Jake took Esteban to play basketball, and he even engaged a shy Katie to play with them. I spent time snuggling, tickling, and playing with my nieces, and having a pleasant evening until bedtime.

We spent a lot of time this week teaching them about taking turns, sharing, and playing together. They are much better at all those things now. There’s still that urge to grab a ball and just hold it, claiming, ‘mine!’, but usually the child can be persuaded to play with the others with a minimum of tears.

Katie and Jessie seem to get along with each other very well now. Esteban is crazy about them both, and Joy has been enjoying one long slumber party.

I may be hallucinating, but I think there is less crying, and certainly less mooing. I’m exhausted. I need a vacation.