I Scream, You Scream, Nobody's Getting Ice Cream

Actually it's more like . . . when you scream, I want to scream, and the only person whose getting ice cream is me . . . after you go to bed. 

For those who have read some of my past blogs you may remember that I have screamers. My oldest is finally starting to out grow this phase. Don't get me wrong though, she can easily be provoked by her sister at the drop of a hat. The good thing is, she actually gets the "mean mom look". You know, the look that you may give when your child is not listening. If you've mastered it perfectly, it can cause a state of panic which may cause your child to stop whatever it is they're doing wrong. (I clearly haven't mastered it yet, but I'm getting there.) When I give this so called look, my oldest is quick to stop. My youngest however, has taken the screeching to a whole new level. Unfortunately, the mean mom look only encourages her to do it more.

These ear piercing, dinosaur like screeches are usually brought on by excitement. A trip to the park is a prime example. She's excited to be out and about and enjoys time with other kids. The pro: we are outside, so the screams aren't that big of a deal. The con: before you know it every other kid in the park starts mimicking this behavior and you have a whole tribe of mini screechers. Not to mention angry moms. This scene is pretty horrific. What's even more horrific is when this behavior happens indoors, like at restaurants.

The past three times we have gone out to eat this has happened. The first was when we were at a kid friendly place for dinner. The waitress brought over crayons, which lead to screeching. Then she brought over grilled cheese sandwiches and french fries. While my youngest spent majority of the time screaming at her french fries, my oldest stuck her fries into her sandwich and sang happy birthday . . . loud. This was all before she removed the straw from her plastic cup and starting banging on it and yelling to everyone that she was a drummer. In this case the mean mom look backfired which caused her to drop her drumstick, I mean straw, on the floor under the table. When I would not let her pick it up off the floor, this lead to more screams. Not happy ones. I asked the waitress for another straw to keep her occupied and happy for five minutes so my husband and I could choke down our food and get out of there ASAP.

The second time was at a busy place that their grandfather took us to. Of course I had pre warned him about the screeching, and could only hope for the best. The tables were close together, and we were seated next to some grandparents that had taken their grand kids out for dinner too. We were more than halfway through the meal when it started. I'm pretty sure it was over an onion ring that my dad had given my youngest. I never knew that onion rings could bring such joy, and either did the family next to us. They shot up out of their seats and were clearly frightened by the screeches. Both my husband and I apologized for the scare, while my father was sitting there stunned that something so loud could come out of someone so small. These are the times that, if you were someone who does not have kids, you'd think to yourself . . . oh my god, control your kid. These are also the times that as a parent you would like nothing more than to be able to do just that. Luckily for us the people next to us laughed, and said "We've been there too." That is always reassuring.

The third time happened this past Sunday when we went out to breakfast before grocery shopping. I'm pretty sure the high pitched squeals of excitement were brought on by some jelly packets and creamers for our coffee. These were by far the loudest screeches I have heard yet. The entire restaurant stopped eating and turned to our table. I was mortified. I quickly stood up and apologized to the entire restaurant, while my husband tried to encourage my youngest to stop. Everyone laughed, some people actually started clapping. It was not really the reaction that I was expecting, but I'll take it. I will say the screeching came in handy when we split up to do groceries and I couldn't find him. He had Charlotte with him, and I was able to track him down from all the way across the other side of the store.

I think it's safe to say we'll be passing on dining out anytime soon. With the exception of a Mother's Day brunch that we'll be going to on Sunday. Wish me luck. In the mean time, I've said it before and I'll say it again . . . be kind to everyone you meet. You never know if they have a toddler at home . . . or a screecher. 

Have a Happy Mother's Day!

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My Job as Referee

Having my kids fairly close together has certainly had it's perks. With Lanie being 2.9 and Charlotte being 16 months, a mere 16 1/2 months separates them. They laugh together, play together, read books together . . . they are best friends . . . and sometimes worst enemies.


DING DING DING

Round 1: While playing a game of run around the kitchen island my youngest slips causing the rug underneath the kitchen sink to slide out of place. My oldest yells "OH NO, you tell that rug you are sorry! You hurt it. That makes me and the rug very sad." My youngest can sense her harsh tone and glares at her while I try to explain to Lanie that it's just a rug and it's really okay. I say "instead of worrying about the rug let's make sure Charlotte is okay". I probably should have been more focused on teaching them not to run in the house, but who am I kidding . . . I'm no Carol Brady. "Mom always said don't play ball in the house" as Marcia gets hit in the face with a football. It's been a long winter so in my opinion occasional laps around the kitchen island and balls in the house are fine by me . . . well, as long as they are nerf balls.

DING DING DING

Round 2: My oldest is fuming that my youngest will not say sorry to the rug. She grabs some plastic silverware out of her play kitchen and proceeds to bang on Charlotte's head saying "If you don't say sorry I'm going to turn your head into a drum. Look Mommy, Charlotte's head is a bass drum!" I yell out "LANIE, NO. Now you need to say sorry to Charlotte. Banging on peoples heads with silverware is not okay." Before I could get over there and grab the plastic spoons from her hands my youngest grabs her by the knees and over she goes. I'm not sure where this behavior came from, but trust me when I say I want to be raising young ladies, NOT WWF wrestlers. 

While I question how Lanie even knows what a bass drum is and how Charlotte learned the armbar legsweep, I get their activity table out along with some paper and stickers. It was clear to me that they really needed some time to sit down and relax. The stickers were such a big hit that when we ran out I was just as disappointed as they were. During my unsuccessful attempt to find more I had the bright idea of using band-aids . . . they stick, right? So I gave them each two band-aids and said "after we stick these, that's it". I figured that the process of unwrapping them would buy me a bit of time.

DING DING DING

Round 3: My oldest unwrapped her band-aids quickly and stuck them on her paper. My youngest chose not to open hers at all and was content just holding them. That did not bode well with my oldest. She could not understand why Charlotte did not want to open her band-aids and attempted to "help her" by grabbing them away. And there they go . . . the screams. The screeches from both of them that are just SO loud. (For those that have read my previous blogs you may remember they had gotten the label of "The Screeching Sisters" at the play place.) The screeches then turned into laughs and I had a instant headache. As quickly as they were worst enemies they were BFF's all over again.

Arguments about saying sorry to rugs, plastic spoons, and band-aids are probably pretty minor in the big picture. Someday I'll most likely be breaking up fights over using the phone, clothes and stealing boyfriends . . . I can only imagine what those screams are going to sound like.

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Screeching Sisters . . . Just Another Day at the Play Place

This week I brought my kids to the play place at a local mall. I often find doing this on my own can be stressful given their ages, 2 1/2 and 1. I don't know what I fear more the temper tantrums when it's time to leave, or the fact that these places can get crowded and I'll lose track of them.

We got there early and spent about an hour. When it was time to leave, there were well over 30 kids and all of their parents/caretakers. It was total chaos. I will say this, and I don't say it often . . . I am glad to have a climber. Charlotte, my 1 year old, climbed a set of stairs, and managed her way up a ramp to what they call "The Tree house". It’s basically a large area looking down at everything going on below. At first, I was nervous about her going up there, she’s just learning to climb stairs, but it quickly dawned on me that if she's up there I don't have to worry about chasing after her down below. So, that's where she stayed the entire time.

Lanie, my older daughter, quickly made friends and was running around jumping from structure to structure like a total mad woman. She was having fun. Then, out of nowhere, Lanie let out this high pitched squeal. An ear piercing, horror movie, off the Richter scale screech that you couldn't even imagine could come out of someone so small, or anyone for that matter. People covered their ears as I quickly went over and told her to stop. The woman next to me was stunned and said "I really think that was the loudest scream I have ever heard." My response, "I know, it's awful."

Just as the embarrassment wore off there was another squeal, except louder. This time it was Charlotte, from the tree house. It was as if she was in some sort of competition with her sister about who's got louder pipes. I was mortified, and quickly ran up to the tree house to attempt to make her stop. As I'm rushing away I hear that same woman say "No, I take it back. That was the loudest scream I have ever heard."

Within seconds I'd say 75% of the kids there were screaming at the top of their lungs, and my kids were clearly to blame. I think Lanie and Charlotte may have gotten their first label that day, "The Screeching Sisters". We left after that.

I am planning on going back next week and I'm hoping that I don't see any familiar faces. And, if I do, maybe they'll forget me. But, I doubt it.

                                      Signed,

                                      A Mom with a Headache

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