Summer List

At the beginning of the summer I made a list of things to accomplish with The Trifecta.  Because I love lists and I love to cross things off lists.  Crossing things off of lists feels awesome.  I will share my list with you:
1)    Provide The Trifecta with the opportunity to practice writing names each morning using a variety of modalities.
2)    Practice letter-sound correspondence with The Trifecta daily.
3)    Practice number names and counting in sequence with The Trifecta daily.
4)    Sign The Trifecta up for swimming lessons.

Now that summer vacation nears its end, I will share what I actually accomplished on my list:

1)    Instead of working with The Trifecta on learning to write their names, the trio ran around in their underwear, daily, sometimes in the yard.

2)    Rather than practice letter-sound correspondence, The Trifecta toured The Tweetsie Railroad no less than 20 days.  During this time, the girls heard cowboys refer to Native Americans as “Indians,” took four photographs in which they wore can-can girl and/or Native American and/or cowboy costumes postured in bar while ingesting sprite, popcorn, ice cream, French fries, and cotton candy.

3)    I failed to spend time working with The Trifecta on learning number names and counting in sequence.  However, we constructed a boat load of block trains and castles using the manipulatives I purchased to practice stated skill.  Manipulatives also doubled as weapons. I stepped on the manipulative minefield no less than a dozen times introducing Trifecta to a new language called “cussing up a storm.”

4)    Swim lessons?  Nope.  Apparently it’s not effective to wait until June to contact swim instructors.  Schedules fill up by March.  We did spend a lot of time jumping off the side of the pool screaming words like, “GAS PUPPET!” and “MONKEY POOP!”

Yep, that’s what I have to show for myself as a stay at home parent with a Master’s Degree in Gifted Education.

During my time as a classroom teacher, I took it upon myself to educate parents on the importance of continuing the practice of reading, writing, and arithmeticing throughout the summer.  I would conclude the spring conference with a little something like, “I have really enjoyed having Rainbow Bright in my class this year. Please make sure you continue to read, write, and arithmetic over the summer.  Research states that if you fail to practice such skills over summer vacation with your child, her head will deflate and her brain will be broken.”  I always gave those free spirited parents a little extra something like, “I’m serious.  Seriously, I mean it.”

What have I learned from this experience?  Don’t make serious lists.  Make fun lists.

Police Intervention

 

Somehow I failed to process the memo that tax free weekend began today.  Otherwise, I would have happily returned home after working out at the gym this morning.  Instead, I pulled The Trifecta across the Target parking lot and elbowed another mother to secure the cart that has the two seats in front rather than just the one standard seat inside the cart.  I had an advantage over the other mother because she had an infant in her arms. 

I managed to fill my cart with the items on my shopping list: two storage tubs, Greenworks spray, Murphy’s hand soap, naproxen, paper plates, and baby shampoo.  I also managed to secure three pair of pink glitter shoes (not originally on my list).  It was time to make the final purchases of the day:  birthday gifts for a friend of The Trifecta.  I pushed the cart through the toy aisles in search of gifts that the friend would enjoy without pushing his parents to the brink of insanity. 

Baby A (pointing to bizarre gothic/hoochie dress up outfit for child):  Mommy, I want that dress for dress up time.

Me:   I don’t think that dress is the kind of outfit I want you to play in (replied the mother who allowed her children to play “dress up” in can-can girl outfits in bar setting at The Tweetsie Railroad).

Baby A:  I want it.

Me:  I understand you want it, but I my answer is “no.”

Baby A launched into a tantrum so insane that she catapulted her body out of the cart seat and threw herself onto the floor.  Her screams were so loud and filled with crazy that other parents stopped to watch the train wreck.  Because that’s how parents support other parents in this type of situation, right?

Me:  Let’s go girls.  We are leaving the store.

Disclaimer - I don’t mean this when the words leave my mouth.  It is simply a threat tactic I used in the hopes the tantruming member of The Trifecta would stabilize so that I could check out with the items in my shopping cart. 

Baby A:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! I WANT THE DRESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUY IT FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WANT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Perhaps it was the combination of glass shattering screams and the threat of bodily harm to Baby A that made me do it.  I can’t tell you for sure.  But, I picked up Baby A and started my walk of shame out of the store.  Babies B and C followed with tears and screams. 

Baby A kicked me in the face.  Baby A attempted to wiggle free from my death grip.  Baby A almost cracked her head open on the hard floor.  Baby A continued to yell, scream, tantrum, squeal, squawk, and howl.  Patrons of Target stared.

I made it to the parking lot. 

A police officer approached me.  A normal person might not find delight in this situation.  I rejoiced.  For years I have been threating The Trifecta with police involvement and intervention in tantrums, potty-talk, and refusal to nap.  Today, the police were here. 

Officer:  Is everything ok, ma’am?

Me:  No, sir.  My daughter had a tantrum in the store. Children go to jail for tantrums, isn’t that right officer? (I gave him my best secret smile, smile, wink, wink.)

Officer (clearly shocked):  No ma’am!  We don’t put children in jail for tantrums!

Me (silently cursing police officer in my head and wanting to punch him in the throat):  Thank you for your help. We’re going to go home now.

The police officer watched me load The Trifecta into the car.  He watched me drive away.  I feel 96% certain that my license and vehicle make and model have been entered into some sort of database for police observation.

At this point, any respectable blogger would offer some sort of advice; some kind of lesson; a quote from a psychologically balanced parenting study; a Bible verse.

I’ve got nothing. I’ll be rocking myself in cradle position in a dark closet if you need me.

Have a great day, y’all.