Boy, Girl, Wild?

My children have taken it upon themselves to build their own version of a zip line in our backyard. Though I am proud of their ingenuity, I am terrified of one of them breaking a bone. This zip line was erected last Thursday and was tweaked a little yesterday afternoon (I am struggling to see what adjustments were made but I was assured that there were some done). At the dinner table last night, I was trying desperately to explain to Layne and Blair that twine was just not strong enough to support their weight and that using a stick to slide down the rope  was not the greatest idea because the stick may not be that strong. I was quickly informed that a stick was no longer being used because it broke and Layne had decided to use a light saber instead (because cheap plastic is always stronger than wood). I went back and forth with Layne about the dangers of this but still trying to stress that I was proud of him for what he had built. He told me not to worry, he was going to test this version out to make sure it was safe he was going to let Blair be the tester. Blair whipped her head around and said, "You have got to be crazy! I am not about to get on that and risk breaking something, like a nail. Plus you are not my parent and I don't have to listen to you when you want me to do crazy things." Layne pointed out to Blair the time he made her eat a dirt/bug/plant like thing...... 

Layne and Blair love to watch survivor type shows. Their favorite show is Man, Woman, Wild on Discovery Channel. There have been many a weekend when we have all piled in to watch this show with them and I am amazed at what they have learned. Layne now begs for steel wool and 9 volt batteries every time I go to the store because he is determined to start a fire in our backyard. I am equally determined to prevent this from happening and to keep him from burning down the neighborhood in the process. One day, the kids were outside "helping" Dean do work in the yard. I noticed them huddled up in the corner of the yard, a fake fire pit was in front of them, and I knew they were re-enacting something from Man, Woman, Wild. Suddenly, Blair shoots up, spitting and wiping her mouth, and running towards the house. She flings open the door and yells, "WATER! I need water!!! Layne made me do it!". What Layne made her do still remains a mystery - to a degree. We know that they were playing "survivors" (and deeply engrossed in it too), he told her to eat something that looked like bug/plants/dirt like thing, and she did it. She loves Layne and trusts him, but she airs a little on the side of cautious now when it comes to him and anything outdoors now. 

I don't want people looking at me!

First meet happiness

Last summer, both Layne and Blair swam for a swim team. Layne thrived, Blair cried. 

Blair insisted on a few "incentives" to swim (and she wanted to look good while she was doing it). Blair wanted pink goggles, which she got. She wanted her nails to match her swimsuit, we made it happen. If she swam in one heat, my brother was buying her a new purse- we have the gaudy purse to mark that accomplishment. Her first time out, she was scared and we were standing right there to cheer her on (her poor coach was in the water walking beside her to give her that extra shot of encouragement). I was so proud when she made it- and that was the first and last time she attempted swimming. She'd go to the meets looking cute in her suit, hang out with the team, attend all of the practices, but she was determined she was NOT going to get back in that water during a swim meet. We did get her to slip into the pool for one more meet but it was more work on our parts than it was on her's.... never again. 

Second meet distress

Blair's biggest issue with swim meets were the people standing around the pool. She made that very clear when she said, "I don't want people looking at me!". I was floored! This is coming from a child that thrives on attention and being right in the center of it at all times. She has no issues when she's on a stage for ballet- she grins from ear to ear and loves every minute of it. She cheers- grinning from ear to ear too. Yet, being in the water during a swim meet is her worst nightmare? I just don't understand. We all explained to her that the only people looking at her were her family and her teammates - all of whom were cheering for her. Still, she wanted nothing to do with it because people were looking at her. I am still utterly baffled by this. 

As I said earlier, Layne thrived last season in swimming. As he got more and more ribbons to mark his accomplishments, Blair became decidedly jealous. She wanted the attention he was getting and the awards too. Plus, it didn't help matters that he constantly called her a cry baby and waved his ribbons in her face. He has asked to continue on the team this coming season and ...... Blair has asked to swim again too. I am bracing myself for this season and praying that it goes much smoother than the last (at this point, anything would be a drastic improvement). If not, then she is just going to have to be happy sitting on the sidelines and cheering him on.

I remember praying for patience at various times in my life. God answered by giving me the ultimate tool to test my patience on a daily basis. Thank you God for Blair. 

A Shot of Nice

Dean took Layne to the doctor a little over a week ago because he was complaining about his ears hurting. There he was, all three children surrounding him in the room, when he proceeds to tell Blair that she was there to get a "Nice Shot". This did not sit well with that child and sent her into a fit of tears while she begged for just one more chance to be nice and promised to be an angel. The pictures that he sent to me made me laugh and feel sorry for her. I know she was overly worried about getting a shot, that is her biggest concern anytime the word doctor is mentioned in our house.

I guess I should tell you what led up to this threat. Blair had been acting up at home, refusing to listen, and was getting a little too aggressive with Kennedy and Layne. On one hand, she is now the middle child and because everyone ignores her this is her way of getting attention but it is causing us great frustration and needs to be corrected before someone gets hurt. Time outs, taking away activities, and sending her to her room weren't working at all. In just a few seconds at the pediatrician's office, Dean came up with the "Nice Shot" as a last ditch effort to get her back in line. He gave her a one month evaluation period and if she behaved and listened to everyone, then she could avoid this shot, if not, he was headed back to the doctor with her. The idea of her having to get a shot led to some great days of perfect manners, voluntarily helping with chores, and lots of love being shown to her siblings. I had a perfect 5 year old for about two days and then we were back to our old ways. 

Which brings us to this morning's waterworks session. Kennedy had an appointment for some vaccinations and Dean was taking her after he dropped Blair off at school. I had forgotten about his deal with Blair until she came running into my room, panic stricken eyes, begging for me to help her escape. Donning her backpack and clutching my car keys, she told me that it was her day to get the "Nice Shot" and she needed my help sneaking to school. Her grand plan was to "tippytaptoe" out the door while he was getting dressed and was distracted. In order for this to work, I was going to have to get dressed at work or in the car in the church parking lot because she had to get out of that house quickly. I glanced up to see a grin on Dean's face, liken to that of a Cheshire cat, and the begging, pleading, and negotiating started up between the two. Between sobs (and while wrapped around my leg as tightly as a tourniquet) she promised to be nice, listen, and follow the rules at home (oddly she seems to be an angel at school) if he'd call the doctor and tell them to give her one more month. He agreed to her terms with the understanding that by opting out of the first round of the "Nice Shot", she was going to have to get the more painful one if he did have to take her to the doctor in a month. A handshake sealed the deal. I can't wait to see how long this agreement lasts.... 

Mommy - 1 Blair - 0

This morning began just as every Monday begins.... my alarm clock goes off and I groan, Dean groans, and the dog nestles deeper under her blankets and snores. The process of getting five people dressed and out the door starts despite the protests. We like to let Blair sleep as long as possible to avoid the morning drama that goes along with her just waking up. Today we didn't have to wake her, she got up on her own. I was in the kitchen cleaning up after  Layne's breakfast when I heard, "Hi Mommy. I had sweet dreams last night. I love you.". Music to my ears. There she was, blanket in one arm, rubbing her eyes and smiling. These are the sweet moments that I have to remember while we are in the midst of a showdown. She then inquired about what she was going to wear to school today (my cue to brace myself). I told her it was hanging on the ironing board, and off she went skipping (skipping = GREAT mood) down the hall to check it out. 

And it begins......

Within minutes, I hear stomping feet coming down the hall accompanied by a pouty whimper (pouty whimper = nails on chalkboard to Mommy). This child's moods can flip as fast as someone can turn on and off lights using a switch. With her hand on her hip (head shaking) she looks at me and says, "Are you (pause) serious? I don't like that outfit and I tell you that EVERY time you make me wear it. Are you trying to make me look like a lollipop?". "No Sweetie, I just thoroughly enjoy torturing you with poor outfit selections." My sarcastic response won me the "Blair look". (If you know my child, you know this look and I am often of the receiving end of it whereas others are just mere witnesses.) This outfit is a white fleece jacket and bottoms with different shades of pink and green lollipops (very warm and comfortable). I tell her to get over it I lived through my mom torturing me the same way and I survived. (I again received her signature look) She stomped back to her room mumbling something about her friends laughing at her, at which point I tuned her out so I wouldn't feel so guilty about sending a lollipop to school. The protesting subsided (highly unusual for her), so I continue cleaning up the kitchen and packing the girls' school bags. Then the sounds from her bedroom start, not wailing and screaming but talking, almost like cheering. In my foggy state of mind (I am only functioning with three cups of coffee at this point), I am secretly holding out hope that she has decided to be happy about the clothing selection (see, still somewhat delusional too). I head to her room to see if things are okay only to find her waving her outfit in front of our dog's face, saying "Come on Livvie, get it, get it girl. You know you want to play. Please help me Livvie. I don't want to wear this. I'll give you a cookie.". Oh yes, my crafty child was trying to bribe our innocent cocker spaniel into eating her outfit so she wouldn't have to wear it today. Thankfully, our dog isn't that stupid. 

We made it to school this morning, wearing the outfit that caused such issues (Mommy-1 Blair-0). My 5 year old "teenager", with her dramatic flair, walked into school telling me what a bad decision I had made for her but still gave me a hug before I left and told me how much she loves me (she may be trying to soften me up for tomorrow morning). I guess I should start getting used to this because I have a feeling that it is only going to get worse.  

Disclaimer:  I was informed over the weekend that I am being far too kind in the way that I portray Blair in these stories. I will chalk it up to 1) Mommy amnesia (maybe) and 2) I want this child to marry some day and move out of my house. If I divulge too much, I may scare off any potential mates.

To know Blair is to love Blair

Blair @ Icon

Blair is five. I would like to say that Blair is the reason for all of my gray hair, but that would be a lie and she could easily get Carlton (my incredible hair magician at Icon) to back her up. Blair is highly opinionated, loud, and determined. I love her more than anything in the word and pray that she will keep these characteristics throughout her life. That being said, I would like to now retract that statement a slight bit. I enjoy and appreciate her, however, I would like to have a day when her will did not clash with my will. I am starting to really believe we are too much alike (my husband thinks so).

Beginning just before she turned two, Blair started having meltdowns. I do not want you to confuse these with temper tantrums, because they were no where close to that. She would simply burst out into tears because her hair was not down to her liking. There were many battles fought between the house and the front doors of the preschool over her hairstyles. I would put it up, she would want it down (and rip it out in the car). I would leave it down and she would want it up. One bow, two bows, no bows...... it was always something. Then, there came the wardrobe issues. The outfit was ugly, the wrong color, too puffy, too tight..... we still have this battle. This morning, it was over the hair and the outfit. The purple was the wrong shade for her to wear today (straight from her mouth) and the headband was annoying but she didn't want her hair done any other way, tears were flowing and life was coming to an end. (Shame on me for not getting my Mommy Magic Wand back from the repair shop because I am sure that would have fixed all of the problems in one magic swish.) Blair knows what she wants- she wants to look good at all times and she makes that point very well known. She loves to shop. She loves to accessorize her outfits with jewelry, purses, and hair bows. She is a little girl, prissy in every way. She is quick to tell me that I look ugly in something while I am in a dressing room trying on something. Honestly, she is right most of the time. She loves watching What Not to Wear, Tabitha's Salon Take Over, and Project Runway. She scans magazines oohing and aahing over the dresses and jewelry she sees. She criticizes me when my fingernails and toenails aren't painted, and sits on my bathroom counter in the morning putting on her "make up" while I do mine. She loves Fancy Nancy, cupcakes, and all things pink and purple. Despite the daily hormonal surges, tears, and battles, she is my Blair and I love her and she loves me.

Motherhood manuals

I was up at 2am with our youngest daughter and decided to scan the books on our bookshelves (I was bored and running out of non stimulative things to do to get her back to sleep). As my eyes were perusing the stacks of books, I laughed out loud when I found the handful of baby manuals. All mothers have at least one, gifted by a friend or family member, purchased during a pregnancy, or just passed down from someone. The holy grail of motherhood, the way to prepare you for the nine months of having a bun in the oven and for the twelve months that follow. I think that I eagerly devoured every page of every one of those books with my first child and I am pretty sure that they have not been opened much since.

For someone who is venturing into the unfamiliar, scary, but exciting first pregnancy, they do come in handy and often answer questions that you may be a little hesitant to ask your doctor. The books that discuss the first year of your little one's life are equally helpful, at least giving you a milestone reference to better prepare yourself for those first teeth, steps, etc. Then there is nothing......

When you buy a new product like a car or lawn mower, they come with an owner's manual that will supposedly cover the life of the product, a quick reference "how to" and "what if" book. If all else fails, there is a customer service number you can call to answer those questions or address issues that are not covered in the book. Apparently, children do not come with their own owner's manual and being that no two are alike, things can get pretty crazy. So, I safely navigated my way through the first years of my son and daughter's lives (referring when needed to the mommy books) and I thought that I was doing pretty darn good. Then my daughter became her own unique self.

My five year old is highly entertaining and I do find humor in her daily drama after I have counted to 10 (at least 100 times) and removed myself from the situation and shared her antics with others (hence my posts on Facebook). I have checked every inch of this child for a tag with the magic 800 number on it, I pulled every book I had to see if I could find any shred of help, but have failed miserably. I call my mother, seeking advice, and she just tells me that payback is a bitch.

So, this will be the beginning of my blogging about life with my daughter, Blair.