Houston, We Have a Stupid Problem

March 5, 2012 By 22 Comments

We have had issues with Eddie saying, um, lightly inappropriate things.

I think we all remember the “amen, poopy butt” phase.

It wasn’t that the words themselves were so bad, but he insisted on saying it after praying…and well, about Baby Jesus.  After we started ignoring it, it went away.  The only time he ever says either “poopy” or “butt” is reference to actually having to use the potty or the fact that his diaper is full.

But recently a new word has been coming out of Eddie’s mouth.

It started innocently.  I was sitting by the table while he was marching around it.  And he was singing.  Aw!  Cute, right?

This is what he was singing:

Twinkle, twinkle stupid star.

Ummm.  No.

I maybe overreacted.

“EDDIE!  What did you say???”

Cue completely frozen toddler with large wide eyes.  Then cue crying because he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong.

Oops.

So we stopped, sat down together, and talked about how “stupid” just isn’t a nice word.

And it was agreed upon.

And over.

I thought.

Have I mentioned Eddie has a temper?  And being two, he doesn’t really know how to voice his frustration so he tends to lash out with words and throwing things and hitting objects?

So recently we hear things like, “come on, stupid thing!” and “open, stupid door!”

Uh oh.

I would LOVE to blame this on someone other than myself.  Really.  But I can’t.

It’s not the shows he watches because he really only watches Disney and PBS.  The few times he watches Loony Tunes and they say it (Daffy likes to call Bugs a “stupid rabbit”), he will SAY to me, “that’s not nice, right mom?  we don’t say ‘stupid’.”

It’s not daycare.  I know his daycare mom pretty well and I am convinced the word “stupid” is not flying around her house.

It’s me.

I know it’s me.

I say it ALL the time.  And I just realized it.

When Eddie was born, I cleaned up my language.  (Shut up, T-dawg, I DID!)  I may have gotten into a nasty habit of just throwing swear words into normal conversation like it was no big deal (allegedly, mom.  Allegedly).

So when Eddie showed up, I did what I do every day when I walk through the door to my classroom, and I got rid of the swears.

But you can still say things like “stupid” and “dumb” and “hate” and “sucks” around teenagers.

However I do not want my two year old telling me that the “stupid door sucks and he hates it.”

I noticed today that even though I want to quit, it just tumbles out of my mouth.  I was having a conversation with Cort while Eddie was in the tub.  And RIGHT IN FRONT OF EDDIE, I said to Cort, “and then the stupid battery died…” and I covered my mouth and scrambled for a new word. Not before Eddie turned and said,

“mom, we don’t say stupid.  not nice.”

So he knows.

But he still says it in frustration.

And it’s because I say it in frustration.

Eddie and I need to quit “stupid.”

It’s become a really, REALLY stupid problem.

Help. I can’t stop.

Filed Under: Eddie Tagged With: , , ,

tragically beautiful

March 1, 2012 By 36 Comments

This morning he woke up over an hour early calling out.

The phone had just rung letting me know of a power outage.  No work today.

He called out again.

Instead of Cort getting up yet again, I lumbered down the stairs to his dark room.

He was still sleeping, but fitfully.

I knew I could probably leave him and go back to my own bed, but something held me there.

I carefully maneuvered around him and wedged myself up against the wall.

As silently as I could, I layered Mickey Mouse on top of a camel and rested my head.

He flipped and he flopped.

It suddenly became clear that the problem was his stuffy nose.  He would hold his breath to suck on his pipey and then gasp for breath behind it.

Eventually he spit the pipey out, rolled toward me, and rested his hands around my wrist.

He started to breath easier through his mouth, so I closed my eyes.

Seconds went by as the memories of his sweet infant breath and his little fingers closing around mine warm my heart.

Minutes went by as that baby morphs into a toddler who falls asleep with his check pressed against my chest while I watch TV.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open.

A little boy was looking at me.

“Hi mommy.  Daddy home?”

“Good morning, Eddie.  Yup.  Daddy is upstairs sleeping.”

“Let’s go get him, mommy.”

And he scrambled–all by himself–to turn on the lights and open his door and go up the stairs to find his daddy.

Later that night at bedtime he asked me when Baby Charlie will come out of my tummy.

“Soon,” I whispered to him in the dark of his room.

“I help you mommy.  I help Baby Charlie.  Ok?”

“I would love that, buddy.  I would.”

“I big brother.  Baby Charlie baby brother.  I help.”

I bent one last time to hug him, tousle his blond curls, and kiss his chubby cheek.

This mothering thing…

It’s having your heart filled and broken at the exact same moment.

It’s being sad while feeling a joy that nothing else can bring.

It’s holding someone tight while teaching them to let go.

It’s the most tragically beautiful thing I have ever decided to do with my life.

**************

One more day to enter my giveaway.

Filed Under: Eddie Tagged With:

just a day…

February 23, 2012 By 17 Comments

A glimpse at what a typical Wednesday is like for me…

the drive in to work. coffee and some loud music. preferably rap.

my "cubical" awaits

 

students working, teacher working. the view from my desk.

 

where a quick copy ALWAYS takes my whole planning period. copy machine FAIL.

 

just imagine full of kids. I was too lazy to blur out faces.

 

must be after 2:30! Kids are gone!

 

as much as I love my job? BEST. PART. OF. THE. DAY. (this was around 3:40pm)

 

Eddie and I get home and watch Daddy scarf some chow before his class.

 

Can you tell which items Eddie chose for our dinner? hint: ALL of them.

 

Our Mommy/Eddie night treat this week? Popcorn in our jammies with Loony Tunes.

 

poop break. actually...third poop break. the first two were on the toilet. this did not make it there.

 

we end the night with a little Dr. Seuss before bed.

Conversation tid bits from the evening:

While munching popcorn…

me: this is fun!  thanks for having popcorn with me, Eddie.

Eddie: yeah.  good times.

While Eddie takes poop break the first on his potty…

me:  how’s it going in there?

Eddie:  fine. don’t look at me.

After finishing our books and while laying in the dark snuggling in his big boy bed…

me: Hey Eddie?  Thank for being my buddy tonight.

Eddie:  Thanks you for mine big buddy tonight.

Yeah…I like our nights together.

Even if he did cry for his daddy right before falling asleep.

And even if the entire upstairs smells like a turd from all his dumps…

We don’t have many just mommy and Eddie time left.  At least not for quite a while.

So I think I will soak it up.

 

Mama’s Losin’ It
Promp: An ordinary day told by photos.

Filed Under: Eddie

Fairly Wordless

February 22, 2012 By 10 Comments

I’m back to work today after two days off for midwinter break.

This means it’s the beginning of the end.

13 days of work left.

I haven’t had a lot of time to dwell on it though.

Because this little guy has kept me pretty darned entertained….

He’s two and half.

And I love it.

Filed Under: Eddie Tagged With: ,

unexpected

February 20, 2012 By 21 Comments

Friday was my pre-admission appointment at the hospital for my delivery and stay with Charlie.

I was asked of any medical conditions besides my drug allergies and my postpartum depression.

I said anxiety.

And had to catch the sob in my throat.

*************

I asked Cort to bring up the itty bitty clothes because I couldn’t stand it anymore.

He did.

I opened three totes of memories.

And my hands and feet erupted in sweat.

*************

Saturday morning Cort picks up the twin-size mattress we bought for Eddie.

Eddie is so excited to sleep on it, I go out and buy sheets so he can use it for nap.

He sleeps like a champ.

And asks to sleep there at night.

And nap on Sunday.

And for the rest of his life.

I cry in an empty nursery.

************

As I search for ways to be productive around the house, flashbacks of the weeks postpartum fill my vision.

I am unable to do anything.

The difficulty of moving with an abdominal wound.

The help I needed but never asked for.

My head spins.

************

Because Eddie wants to sleep permanently in his new room, he and I moved all his clothes to his new dresser.

It will be easier for Cort in the mornings.

I also put his diapers and some wipes in his room.

And then walked around aimlessly all day in a haze.

************

As I pee, I see my idea of the near future.

Trying to take care of postpartum body wounds and “stuff”.

A crying baby.

A needy toddler who thinks he “can do his own self.”

A husband gone to class.

************

I took Eddie’s name off the nursery wall.

He looked at them on the floor and asked me to put them in his “own room”.

I said Ok.

He smiled.

I turned away so he wouldn’t see my tears.

*************

I knew it would be awesome if we transitioned before Charlie was here.

But part of me wasn’t rushing anything.

And then he went and transitioned himself.

Without considering if I was ready.

*************

He can suddenly climb into his booster at the table himself.

He can go get his own tissues and diapers and anything else.

He carries things for me.

He not-so-routinely pees and poos on the potty.

He is so proud.

I…am proud…and heartbroken.

*************

I wanted a happy toddler and a squishy newborn.

But I am terrified.

This is just how it should happen.

And not at all how I thought it would happen.

Filed Under: anxiety, Charlie, depression, Eddie, Katie, mental health, pregnancy Tagged With: , , , ,

difficult phases

February 17, 2012 By 16 Comments

Dear Eddie,

Oh my little buddy.  We are entering a difficult time.

You are at that rough age of two-but-not-quite-three.   You want so badly to do things by yourself, on your own, without help.  You want things done your way, on your schedule.

You struggle to communicate your wants, and when we have to say “no,” you struggle with how to show your anger and frustration at not getting your way.

It hurts my heart to watch you go through this phase.

Sometimes the minute you come through the door after getting home from daycare our push and pull starts. I will ask you if you had fun and you will shout, “NO!”

I will tell you I missed you and you will yell, “NO!”

I’ll try to hug you and you will pull away and tell me, “NO TALK A ME, MOM.”

I know you’ve had a big day.  I know you were probably cheery and fine for 95% of that big day.  And I know you are tired.

So you will get your juice from the fridge.  And if it is not full enough, you will want to pour your own.  And I will say no.  And you will slap the couch or coffee table and take off for the nursery all the while sobbing, “I JUS WANNA JUICEY. NO JUICEY FOR EDDIE. MOMMY NO JUICEY. I WANNA JUICEY.  WAAAAAAAAAAA.”

You are so much like I was at that age.

It makes Grandma and Grandpa giggle.

It makes me smile too, because I can actually remember being an over dramatic, whiny child.

But at the same time, something inside me breaks when you just can’t find a good thing in this world to smile about.  I search you for my sweet little boy.  My Eddie Bear.  And he is not there.

He is replaced by a sad, frustrated, anger ball of a toddler.

I try to stay calm.  I let you stomp to the nursery, but I know you are also frustrated because all your things are moving downstairs.

I hate this that phase–and I know it’s a phase–is aligning with you becoming a Big Brother.

Things are changing and you both love and hate it.

You are so eager to help with Charlie and to know when he will be here and to tell people about him.

But you hate that you can’t sit in his infant tub or play with his bottles or lay on his activity mat.

You want to do things yourself and be a Big Boy.

But you don’t want to give up your spot as my Baby either.

This week, while daddy was in class, you and I rocked in the nursery before bed.  You asked me to sing the ABC’s, so I did. Then you asked me about some of baby Charlie’s things that are piling up in the nursery.

I answered your questions.  Then there was silence.

In that silence, you nuzzled your face closer to me and put Lamby up to your nose.

I leaned in and said, “Hey Eddie.  Guess what?”

And you looked up and went, “huh?”

“You are so very special to me, do you know that?”

And a smile spread behind your pipey.

“You will always be so special and important to me.  Do you know why?”

“Why, Mommy?  Why?”

“Because of you, I am a mommy!  You turned me into a mommy!  Did you know that?”

“Yeah.”

Of course you have no idea.  But you seemed happy about it.

The next day you were a bit of a grizzly bear again.

You have even yelled at Renae at daycare…something you have never done.

I know it’s hard growing up.  I do.  And I wish I could say that once you get past this phase, it gets easier.

But it doesn’t.

Life and phases happen all the way from two years old until…well…I don’t think it ever ends, bud.

But know this:  Your Daddy and I know you are a sweet, kind boy.  You make us proud in so many ways.  You are so smart and funny and amazing.

And while we know you are going through a phase, we want you to know that we will do our best to understand and guide you through it so you can be better for it.

That doesn’t mean it’s OK to throw things or hit when you are frustrated.  It means we will show you healthy ways to express your frustration.

Like knowing you need to go sit in the rocking chair for awhile, and being able to tell us, “I AM ANGRY RIGHT NOW, MOMMY!”

You are making good choices, my little friend.  Most of the time.

And we will get through this.

I promise.

I will love you forever, you know.  No matter what or who comes along.

Love, Mommy

Filed Under: Eddie, Sluiters Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

the potty monologues

January 26, 2012 By 9 Comments

I really didn’t expect to be blogging about potty training any time soon.

In fact, I have been completely ignoring the fact that my child will have to be potty trained at all.  I just keep telling myself, “he is two.  I’ll worry about it when he is three.”

Little did I know he would take matters into his own hands.

Well, sort of.

Cort and I have discussed this thing called “Potty Training”.   We often talk about pee and poop with Eddie.  He knows mommy and daddy do it in the “potty” and that we wipe and flush and all that.  He knows he does it in his diaper, but that eventually he will do it in the potty too.

About 8 months ago he showed some interest in sitting on the big potty and flushing, so we got him his own potty chair.

We didn’t try to train at all, we just let the potty chair sit in the bathroom.  Eddie knows what it is for and likes to sit on it with all his clothes on when we are on the can.

He also likes to sit on it before and after bath with no clothes on.

Only once has he actually put about two drops of pee in the potty.  And that was after grunting and trying because he wanted to be “like mommy.”

Ok then.

We never pushed.  We just encouraged him to sit on it or ask to sit on it when he wants to.

Recently he started needing “privacy” when he did his number two’s.  So we started enforcing privacy when Cort and I do our number two’s also.  He seems to “get it”.

We have been totally following his lead on this.

In fact, each incident seems to be completely at random since we are never really occupied with getting him “trained”.

That is why Tuesday night was such a huge deal.

It seemed to be a regular Tuesday night.  We had dinner, Cort put Eddie in the bath, I was busy grading papers.

You know we have dealt with aqua dumps, right?  So it is often repeated that “we do not poop in the tub.”

Before Eddie got in the tub, he was complaining that his “buns hurt.” So we kept asking him if he had to poop.  He said no, whipped off his diaper, and went running for the tub.

Ok then.

The regular hair washing and what not went on and then Eddie was allowed to play.  Since the child feels the need to narrate EVERYTHING he is doing, we can pretty much let him play and sit around the corner to watch the news.

So that is what Cort did.  And then we heard, “A poop tub”.

Wait. What?

Cort and I just looked at each other.  We heard it again, “Daddy…a poop.  tub.”

Cort took a deep breath, got up, and muttered, “well this can’t be good,” and walks around the corner.  This is what I heard:

Cort: What buddy?  Did you poop in the tub?

Eddie: No.  Yeah.  No. Poop.

Cort:  There’s no poop in the tub.  Do you have to go poop?

Eddie:  Yeah.  No poop in tub.  Poop.

Cort:  Did you want to get out and sit on the potty?

Eddie:  Yeah. Poop inna potty.

Cort:  Ok, then.  Come on bud.

And then I heard some shuffling and some water dripping and then…

Cort:  Are you cold?  Here, put this towel around you.

Eddie:  Go way.

Cort:  You want me to leave?  Ok.  But STAY ON THE POTTY.  Tell me if you think you need to get up.

Eddie: Ok. Go way.

So Cort walks out and looks at me.  I look back silently, raising my eyebrows.  He shrugs.

Then pee happens.  IN THE POTTY!

We are all celebratory and cheering.

But Eddie insists he has to poop.  So he keeps sitting, all the while announcing, “I PEE IN POTTY, DADDY.  I PEE IN POTTY MOMMY!” from spot in the bathroom.

Cort is giggling about the fact that our son is completely nude, sitting on a plastic potty, draped in a hooded towel.  He insists I take a picture…or at least peek at it.

And even though I feel that I have met my quota of embarrassing pictures of my oldest on the potty, I can’t help but grab the camera.  As I am about to snap a picture, I hear a loud, juicy noise come from the bathroom.

I look at Cort to see if he heard it.

He did.  (He didn’t have to say anything.  The look of shock followed by uncontrollable giggles gave it away).

“Eddie, did you just poop?” I ask as I quickly snap a picture.

“Yeah, I POOP!”  He smiles.

I cheer him on, as Cort comes in to discuss the “doneness” of this poop.  There is wiping and congratulations and then Eddie asks to get back in the tub.

Cort and I promise him a treat when he gets out.

After bath, as he is eating his m&ms (which he thanks me for three times…with hugs), we talk about getting m&ms whenever he does the pee and poo and how if he can do that a lot, I will take him to pick out his own underwear.

He is excited.

So excited that it is what he talks about with me as we rock to sleep that night.

And what he announces to me in the morning before I go to work.

And what he tells everyone at daycare about.

Of course he hasn’t done it since.

But we aren’t pushing.

He’ll do it again when he is ready.

He’s only two after all.

Filed Under: Eddie, Sluiters Tagged With: , , , , , ,

why we already know charlie’s birthday date

January 9, 2012 By 75 Comments

Let me add the disclaimer here that this post was hard to write not because I am unsure of my decision, but because I know it is not a popular one.  But by not saying anything, I feel like I am hiding something…which I am not.  And if there is anyone else out there who is feeling ashamed for her choice?  I want to squash that shame. 

*************

We already know what day Charlie will be born on because we have decided to schedule a c-section.

Let me tell you why…

When I went into labor with Eddie (the day before his due date), I knew there was a possibility of a C-Section because I had been measuring really big, my pelvic region is narrower than most, and my tilted uterus was…well…still tilted.

But my OB, Doc VH, was determined to let my body do what God made it to do…deliver a baby vaginally.

So when we packed up and headed for the ER at 5:00am on the morning of Eddie’s due date, and I was dilated to 4.5, 80% effaced, and things were looking textbook, I got my epidural and sat back and was a dilating/effacing machine.

My nurse was sure Eddie would be there by noon.

And then he wasn’t.

Oh, I was progressing nicely, but he wasn’t.

Just before 2pm, I asked if I could push since I was starting to feel uncomfortable (and I had secretly pushed against the pressure to see if it felt better that way.  It did).

My nurse was totally gung-ho.  “Heck yes, you can!”

So away we went!

For over 2 hours.

And in that 2 hours?  Eddie refused to cooperate.  At all.

He was nine and a half pounds of huge with a head the size of a cantaloupe.  Plus he was face up.  Plus he just refused to descend any further. The harder I pushed, the more he refused…until his heart rate plummeted and went wonky from being so stubborn all the strain.

Plus all this gave me a fever of close to 105.

So at 4:30pm Doc VH made the call that we needed to get Eddie out NOW.  It was becoming WAY too dangerous…for both of us.

And so, Eddie was born at 4:51pm on his due date via c-section.

For whatever reason, one of the questions everyone who came to visit asked was, “if you have another, will you do another c-section?”

This question sort of shocked me.

For one, I was sitting there with a wound that still had staples in it and was still bleeding every now and then.  I was also sitting there with a fresh from the oven infant.

I was NOT thinking about a repeat performance of either.  I was thinking about sleep and would I ever get any.

But low and behold two and a half years later, I found myself knocked up again.

And the questions started flowing in the millisecond after I announced the pregnancy…”are you going to have a repeat c/s or go for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section)?”

I sort of avoided the question because I really didn’t know and I didn’t really want anyone’s advice. I wanted it to be decided between me, Cort, and Dr. VH.  Oh, and I asked my therapist what she thought of the plan too since I struggle with anxiety and have a history of depression and postpartum depression.

We decided not to make any calls before we got a better idea of Charlie’s growth compared to Eddie’s.

Doc VH is almost notorious for his push for VBACs–even though our hospital doesn’t do “elective VBACs”.  He would rather have a woman’s body do what it is supposed to do and only intervene if there is a definite medical emergency.

It is why I chose to stay with him as my doc after my miscarriages.  He didn’t want me to come in and get things “taken care of” in the office because he felt that my body should be given the time to finish the miscarriage process itself.

And while it was painful, I felt most comfortable with that plan too.

I should also say that Dr. VH is extremely open and honest.  This guy is a no BS dude.  He tells it like it is and sugar-coats nothing.  He lays out all possibilities, lets you make your own choice, and then gives his opinion, but will respect what you choose.

Did I mention I love my OB?

So when he explained to me that he prefers to see a VBAC in 90% of his patients, he said he wasn’t sure it would work for me, but that we would wait and see.

And wait we did.

And people just kept asking, and I just kept dodging the question.

Cort didn’t come with me to my appointment this week, but we had discussed ad nauseum at length the options before us, and he told me that it was ultimately up to me and that he would be there to support me 100% no matter how Charlie came into the world.

So this week, at 29 weeks, I was measuring at 31 weeks.  The Good Doc and I looked back at Eddie’s charts and…BOOM…same thing.

We talked about all the issues I had with Eddie.

We discussed trying a VBAC in a different hospital, possibly with a different doctor, where I wasn’t familiar with things and how that would effect my anxiety.

We discussed trying the VBAC and then ending up on the table anyway.  In a different hospital.  With a different doctor.  With unfamiliarity.  With my anxiety.

I told him I was thinking even before this talk that I wanted another c-section, but I felt bad about it.

He told me that although most women really should try a VBAC in his opinion, maybe with my physical and mental history, I should do the csection.  “After all,” he told me, “Your comfort and ease goes a LONG way in the baby’s comfort and ease when he is first placed in your arms.”

And of course, being Dr. VH, he went on for a while (forever, actually) about all the medical facts about how “back in the day” without these options, babies and women died all the time when forced to do vaginal birth. And then he mentioned something about crushed baby heads and/or ripping from crotch to butt and how we don’t have those happen anymore due to more options.   Because that is how he rolls.  He is quite nerdy and excited about medical stuff.  It’s a good quality in a doctor, in my opinion.

So before I left on Friday, we scheduled my csection.

Before we did, however, he assured me we would watch Charlie’s growth carefully and if things look more favorable this time than with Eddie, we could always cancel the csection.  But at least this way I was scheduled on a day that was for sure his surgery day and he could be there with me in an environment I am comfortable with already.

I left feeling very good about our decision.

Because it was OUR decision based on OUR personal experience and history.

And I still do.

If we have number three will I automatically go for a c/section?  I have no idea.  It will all depend on the situation.  Just like this time.

And unless anything changes drastically, Charlie will be born on March 13, 2012.

Lucky 13.

Exactly two weeks before his Momma’s birthday.

Filed Under: Charlie, Eddie, mental health, pregnancy Tagged With: , , , , ,

from tots to teens

January 5, 2012 By 14 Comments

I have been amongst the teenagers for 11 years now.

I started in January of 2001 with my student teaching and I have been in the same district as a long-term sub and then as a contracted teacher since then.

In my first couple months in a high school, I was asked to prom by a senior boy who mistakenly thought I was a new student.  I was 21 at the time, but looked about 17.  We were both pretty embarrassed when I had to correct him…and decline the invite.

When I started subbing, my youngest brother was in high school.  If I subbed in his building, he hid from me and I ignored him.  His friends, however?  Loved it.  There were many sister jokes flung about.  Needless to say, I sort of avoided subbing in his school…for both of our sanity.

My first contracted teaching job started in the fall of 2003, was his senior year of high school.  And thankfully–for both of us–it wasn’t in his school.  I was 25 and not feeling totally like an adult yet.  With a brother the same age as my students, it was hard for me to be a disciplinarian.  I was good at being bossy, but not so good about dropping the hammer when necessary.

In the five years after being hired, I gradually got old matured into adulthood, but the teenagers stayed, well, teenagers.  By the time I was pregnant with Eddie in 2008, I had established a nice reputation of being a good teacher, but strict on behavior and tough on grading.

And then came Eddie.

Suddenly I was a mom.   And I realized…all those teenagers?  Were someone’s baby.

It was like getting punched in the face with the obvious.

I remained a tough teacher, in fact, I think I got tougher.  I knew that the parents of these kids wanted them to succeed.  In my mind, no one has a baby hoping he/she will fail high school.

When I was pregnant with Eddie, my students used to joke that he was “doomed”.

Doomed because I know what the kids listen to, what they talk about, how they slack, what kind of drama goes on.

Doomed because I bring all that up, tell them in the grand scheme it doesn’t matter, and then expect success anyway.

Doomed because I value education.

Doomed because I don’t put up with disrespectful ridiculousness.

Doomed because I had the perfect “mom look” when things were getting out of hand.

Doomed because I don’t just threaten, I follow through.

Doomed because I care.

And then those kids would stay after school and confess that Eddie was so lucky to have me as a mom because they didn’t have those things at home.

I would go home on those days and scoop up Eddie and weep.

Now that I am a mom of a wiggly toddler and pregnant with a wiggly fetus, I am constantly aware that my boys?  Will be 15 year olds someday.

Family members have already told me that “The Sluiter Boys: Eddie and Charlie” sound like a mischievous pair.  Eddie’s listening ears are about as well-functioning as a 15 year old boy.

I keep taking breaks from this post to teach those teenagers.

And because this post is in the back of my head, I find myself noticing all the teenage boy behavior even more than usual.

Last hour I had to tell a group of boys to keep their hands to themselves three different times.

This hour, I have already had to tell a couple boys to focus on the warm-up instead of talking about video games.

And just now, I turned to the kid next to my desk and said, “A, is your warm up done?  Get it out.  We’ve been in class for 7 minutes.  It should be done.”

Will this be Eddie?  Or Charlie?

As a teacher I know some of kid behavior is upbringing.  But by the teen years much of it is peer-related.  And a good chunk is just teenager-y-ness.

As our kids get older, we are less and less their main influence in decision-making and beliefs.

I see this all the time.

Frustrated parents come in and tell me they just don’t know what to do anymore. That they are at their wit’s end.

And I wonder…

Was it always this way?

Or did you have a great connect with that little boy or girl at one point?

Did you sit and play and read and have conversations?

Or is this a result of years of thinking a kid should be a certain way, but not showing him/her how to be that way.

And the big one…am I showing Eddie how to be a responsible, respectful teenager?

I know good parents end up with troubled kids.  And I know troubled parents end up with amazing kids.

I have literally seen it all.

And day after day I wonder…is what I am doing going to matter?

I don’t have that answer, but I have to believe it will.

I have to believe that my best will be good enough.

Because it is all I have to give my boys.

*Thank you to Sherri for the idea to write this.

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