Hot and Bothered

Somebody help! I remember crawling down the hallway practicing a fire escape plan with my son when he was little. Nowadays, the escape plan for my husband and I consists of a rope tied to the foot of our iron bed. Apparently we think we can rappel down the side of our two-story to the ground in the event of a fire-(read fear and chaos).

Once when our son was young and we tried to "escape" to the basement during bad weather we had to pry him out of his bed because he was so terrified. What would he have done in a fire?

What have others been told, practiced, prepared for or actually experienced when it comes to a house fire? I know many families with young children visit the fire station during fire safety week but how many can look those firemen in the eyes and tell them they have an escape plan that they have practiced? Let me know, what makes families actually make a fire escape plan and then practice it together? Does it take a personal "near miss"?

Linda Thomas/PAIIR

It's there if you take time to notice...

I recently took an infant class and was reminded by another participant to slow down and see the beauty in my child growing and changing each day. It’s a simple concept that requires little elaboration, rather reflection as to how you can selectively remove daily distractions to provide you with more time to slow down and really enjoy the mystifying beauty that lies within your child. What distractions are you dismissing in order to spend more time with your little ones? What have you been completely amazed by when you took the time to notice?


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Jen Skrukrud is a mother to an 8 month old man-on-the-move. She is savoring the snuggle time she has with her son each day.

Uses for a Kitchen Timer Outside of the Kitchen

My boy used to be a prune. Or at least he often looked like one when he was little. It's because I often misplaced the timer I used to signal it was time to get out of the tub. He refused to get out without it. I finally resorted to ringing the door bell. I know…I know! The timer worked like a charm when I could find it.

I was (and still can be…) organizationally challenged as well as a bit lax on my ability to be firm about some things -like ending tub time (Hey-I could flip through magazines while he bathed so I liked him a little pruney!)

The timer also worked well to announce “toy pick-up time” before we had snack in the afternoon. So now I am wondering in what ways have others used the timer to manage their kid’s behaviors? The digital ones they have now are so slick we have multiples at home. I use them to signal to my husband that it’s time for him to make dinner, it’s time for him to buy me chocolate, its time……

Linda Thomas/PAIIR

When Parents Listen

I like to think of myself as a good problem solver. In fact, I think most parents acquire great skills in this area. What I realized, though, is that I used to jump too quickly to solve my children’s problem. I found myself giving advice when what they really wanted was for me to listen. Often there was frustration because I misunderstood the point! I have seen children have meltdowns, walk away in a huff, or simply stop trying to explain their problem because the adult they were talking to “just wasn’t listening”. The parent, in most situations, thought he or she was listening but was actually mostly telling. I have learned to be highly focused on my LISTENING and less focused on my TALKING...reminding myself I have two ears and only one mouth so I should use them proportionately! When I am able to control myself, bite my tongue, and hear the child out I often realize that what the child was saying and what I was hearing were two different things. Also, I find children share more details when I open my ears and close my mouth. I find our conversations much more peaceful and rewarding. Here is an example of a recent experience:

As we were dressing to go play in the fresh October snow my youngest daughter said, “Mom, I am wondering about the angels in the snow.” I immediately thought she meant “snow angels” and was about to go into a descriptive reminder of how best to proceed in achieving the optimum results, but instead I used my #1 listening skill and said, “Tell me more about that.” She then went on to express her concern about the angels in heaven and if they have warm coats and hats and mittens. She wondered if they fly faster to keep warm. She had a lot of questions that I may have never heard if I had jumped in to give a lesson on making snow angels!
Besides better understanding what the child is truly saying, true listening helps to diminish frustration. When a child is upset about something often just acknowledging their feelings (listening skill #2) with, “you seem really sad” or “that must have been disappointing” calms them down. Sometimes that is all they want—they then run off to play again.

When they do want help solving a problem I am amazed at how very young children can come up with really good solutions. When my oldest daughter and son were 3 and 2 we were having nightly arguments about who got to be first going up the stairs. I told them I was worried someone would get hurt racing to get there first and asked them what they thought they could do about the problem (listening skill #3). They talked for a moment and said they decided to “hold hands and go the same speed”. It was a beautiful solution that I would probably not have come up with. We never had another argument about it--children are usually more confident in the solution to their problem and more willing to stick with it when they have come up with it themselves.

When I am really intentional about listening I notice a great improvement in communication. It opens doors because the children feel listened to. Once they feel that I am listening they tell me more about what is on their mind so I can really understand what it is that they are saying. They feel validated and encouraged to take ownership in the problem and it teaches them good listening skills.

Think about your friends who you go to with your problems and frustrations. They are probably not the ones giving you suggestions but rather, the ones who use their ears twice as much as their mouth.

Bobbi Jean is the mother of 5 children, ages 6, 8, 10, 12, and 13. She is a PAIIR educator and is still polishing up her listening skills.

As family traditions go Halloween is one “holiday” that lacked traditions for my family. I am working to change that. No, Halloween isn’t my favorite holiday, however I do recognize it as a time to create great memories with my child and in the future allow my child to dream, pretend, be silly, and enjoy himself.

In the midst of all this I am left thinking about what to let my child be for Halloween. He is a mere 7 months old yet I feel somehow like I am making a statement with his costume. I have decided my son is going to be a caterpillar for Halloween. After all, why not have him dress up as a character from a book? The Very Hungry Caterpillar is one of my favorites, and if you’ve seen my son you know “very hungry” goes right along with his personality. Another reason I chose this costume is because it is non-violent. I believe there is enough violence in the world and children are exposed to too many violent acts as youngsters as it is. For kids, Halloween should be about the magic of pretending, the excitement of putting on a costume and parading around town, not about violence, gore, and death. What non-violent costume will your child be wearing this year?

Jen is the mother to a 6 month old son who has started rolling and creeping. She is un-decorating the house to accommodate his curiosity for all things “off limits”.

Grand Adventures with Dad

After months of "perfection" the baby moon is over. I spent the first 5 months of my son's little life at home doting over him, doing anything and everything for him. My husband looked on as I "taught" him all about changing diapers, feeding, and the importance of reading books everyday to our precious little one. I was after all a trained professional; I teach people about children everyday so my husband trusted every word of what I said... Until I went back to work.

A month ago I returned to the workforce. Albeit, only two nights a week however after 5 months of being at home, two nights a week has been a big deal for me and for my family. The first few nights I would call when I got a chance, "just checking in". My husband would reassure me that everything was alright and I would secretly, anxiously await the end of my class so that I could return home and snuggle my son.

The first weeks were chaotic to say the least. I would return to a house that looked like a tornado had hit-toys, books, diapers both clean and dirty, strewn everywhere- to find my husband and son snuggled up on the couch watching TV. Other nights I waltzed in and my son would still be awake (past his strictly enforced scheduled bed time) jumping happily in his jumper. Once my husband poured milk all over the couch and again all over the floor in a hurried attempt to get a bottle ready for a starved little guy. Each afternoon I dreaded getting ready for work. I feared what I would come home to, and wondered if daddy was reading like he was supposed to and if my son was "alright" while I was gone. Guilt was setting in.

Last night my husband revealed to me that he doesn't believe he has the mother's intuition I have. I reassured him that he always did what was best for he and our son and that so far everything has gone great. Many times in my life I have given this speech to parents much in need of a confidence booster. This time was different. As I recited the phrase, "It might be different than when I am home but..." I paused. It turns out my husband's need for a pick me up was just what I needed to realize that while I am away our son is in the midst of grand adventure with his dad. I am no longer rushing home. No longer fearing what I might find nor annoyed at the tornado I find when I arrive. This week I am taking my time after class, I may even stop somewhere on the way home.

Jen is the mother of a 6-month-old boy and is also a PAIIR Educator.

Observations from a Dad

Somehow, I find myself writing a blog on parenting and after wondering how I got into this mess, I started contemplating what I would write about. I am after all, the Dad. What could I, the Dad have to say on a blog that would provide insight into the world of parenting? To many Dads parenting is a part time job, something we do when we get home from work, or on the weekend when we get done golfing, fishing, or fixing the bathroom shower. We leave the hard stuff to Mom. They figure it out, and tell us what to do and we get it done – usually with duct tape, the kitchen destroyed and pizza delivery involved.

It is easy to take a light-hearted approach to fatherhood and being a Dad. After all, when the kid starts playing football for the NFL – who does he yell “Hi” to: MOM! I sometimes think that as Dads, we get lost in the whole process starting at pregnancy, continuing through the birth and never really recover. The baby showers, the birth, everyone cooing over the baby, through it all we are standing in the corner learning our place in the process; do as asked or this tiny little being will scream for Mom and we will not be trusted to touch the baby again. A friend of mine once commented that he didn’t know what to do with his kids until they were in grade school! I personally found that statement to be incredibly sad for both him and his kids. I think of all the memories I would not have if I didn’t interact with them for the first five years of their lives. I grew up on a farm with a large family; sadly, I don’t remember much about my Dad until I was old enough to start doing chores with him in the barn at age nine or so. I vowed that would not be the case with my kids.

Parenting takes active involvement from both parents. As Dads, don’t stand in the corner and wait to be told. Read the books, ask questions, and be involved. Have conversations about discipline, food and potty training. And most of all, take every moment you can. In business, we often talk about return on investment. In this case, the investment I make every day in time for my kids pays back immediately, and the payback is priceless. We learn about each other, we laugh, we talk and most of all we engage. As they get older, we will continue to find hobbies and activities that we can all enjoy together. And when I have to fix that bathroom shower, I hope one of them is standing by with the duct tape while the other orders a pizza.

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Tim is the father of two kids, an 11 yr old daughter and 13-month-old son. He and his wife recently moved from Rochester to Minneapolis and miss the community and the friends.

Toddler Life Toddler Life Toddler Life

Life with a toddler can be, at times, mind-numbingly repetitive. Toddlers are exploring the world and trying to figure out how things work, over and over again. Did I mention they do things over and over? And over?

My days are filled with following behind D’s messes. Empty toy basket. Mom cleans up. Meanwhile D is pulling books off the shelf. She will sit and flip pages in a few books, the toddle on to the plastic food container drawer. While she is merrily flinging boxes about the kitchen, I restore the bookshelf to order. About the time I finish clearing up the book massacre, D has moved back to the toy basket or on to the box of computer game CDs or the videotape boxes. Lather, rinse, repeat.

You wouldn't think I’d need to workout.

There are times though that the repetitive persistence is endearingly adorable. For example, one day D and I went for a walk. I walked, D rode in her push-car (her first birthday present from her family). I brought along a sport bottle filled with water. The bottle was one I’d bought at the fair, tall with a long straw. I hadn't tried to give D a drink from a straw before, but I did on the walk. She smiled broadly and sipped like a pro.

When we got back to our house she pointed and squawked for me to give her the bottle. When I did she sat on the floor and practiced sip after sip from the straw, beaming proudly between drinks.

My first born, as a toddler, adored the book Moo Baa La La La by Sandra Boynton. Even now I can recite that book word for word because M insisted I read it to her over and over.

My son, as a toddler, enjoyed hearing me sing The Wheels on the Bus repeatedly.

Those repetitions, while somewhat maddening at the time, are some of the sweet things that I’ll remember most about my kids when they are all grown.

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Heather is mom to three children, a second-grader, a Kindergartner and an almost-16-month-old. She thinks one of the best things about being a parent is discovering who her kids really are.

The New Normal

Today, I have officially been a mom of three for one whole year. We all survived together, in this too-small-for-us-now house, in the almost-too-small-for-us car, in my larger-than-I-ever-dreamed heart.

Midway through my pregnancy with D I started to second-guess the wisdom of having another child. My other two children were unruly and hard to manage. They were sensing the change that was coming in our lives, and while they looked forward to having a baby sister they also (I think) resented the sort-of implied knowledge that the two of them were not enough.

But the thing that kids don't (and can't) understand is that a mother wants for more children precisely because the ones she already has take her breath away. It is the wonder of knowing these perfect beings (perfect not in deed but perfect for that mother, their mother) and watching them develop and emerge from the shadow of that mother that makes her want to see the process continue anew; and to discover what new ways the process can unfold.

When the baby was born last May, my other two children were in love with her. She was little, she slept a lot, she rarely cried and most importantly...she didn't move. It was a lovely babymoon until about 6 months into her life when she started to crawl. Now she can get into their things and they don't much care for it. Of course all she has to do is smile her big, dimpled, still toothless smile and they turn back into puddles of submission. Anything the baby wants, she can usually get because they don't like to see or hear her crying.

I'm fairly certain this only works when the baby is at least 3 years younger than her siblings. It definitely didn't work that way with M and K and there are only 2 years and 7 days between them...although M did do her fair share of doting on K as well.

The bleary-eyed days of having a newborn are now behind me. My youngest baby is one today and I am looking forward to seeing how we will all continue to fit together, this family of mine. Each day D will show us more and more of her personality, her preferences, her foibles and we will all adapt just a little to make room for this new normal.

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Heather is mom to three, an almost 7-year-old daughter M, an almost 5-year-old son K, and Baby D who is 1 today. Sob!

A Sign of the Times

These days people are worried about keeping their jobs and putting food on the table for their family members. I attended a PAIIR advisory board meeting tonight and Peggy O'Toole-Martin said something that resonated. She talked about the hard times people are experiencing and the importance of being sensitive to the people around us.

I met a married couple at Target after the meeting. The husband shared with me that he had just been laid off. His last day of work is Friday and he seemed like he was becoming accustomed to telling people the news. I wanted to tell him that he had nothing to worry about and that he would easily find a job, but I bit my tongue and listened. I told them that if they needed anything they could call me.

I want this generation of children to be known for their kindness. I believe the hard times will teach them about sacrifice, compassion and resilience.

I read a story about a daughter who was touched by her father's kindness and his ability to talk to people from all walks of life. Later I shared how much this story touched me, and she told me the story of her father's passing. He died in the nursing home. When she asked the cleaning woman to tell the appropriate person that he had passed, she was informed by the woman that her father was always kind and that he took the time to get to know her name and her children’s' names. When she cleaned his room he asked her how her children were doing; this touched the woman deeply.

I am amazed how much it means to people to acknowledge who they are and the importance of their existence. I strive to be a good example to my daughter because I realize the way I treat people is the way she will treat others as well.

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Jinny Max has a 3-year-old daughter named Maya who is in preschool. Jinny is a HUGE supporter of PAIIR. She believes she wouldn't have survived her first year in Rochester without PAIIR.

Weeks

I’ve realized that I don’t know the weeks.

You know when you’re pregnant with your first child and someone asks you how far along you are? You answer, all giddy with the knowledge that you’re growing your baby: 24 weeks and 3 days.

You know. You know exactly to the day how far along you are.

The knowledge of the weeks continues once the baby is born. Any innocent inquiry to the baby’s age is met with: 16 weeks. 22 weeks. 34 weeks.

You just know. You keep track. The poor stranger that asked you the question is left to the math to try to figure out how old your child is, and you feel confident that you’ve given the most accurate response to the question.

With the second child, you still know the weeks of gestation, after all, you’re carrying that kid around and he’s bouncing on your pelvis and making you wonder what the H you were thinking about carrying another baby around for 40 weeks.

When people ask after baby #2 is born, how old he is, half the time you know to the week, the other half of the time you just round to the nearest half-month. Let’s face it, people don’t need that accurate information.

The third child? I was supremely happy to discover that I was finally pregnant. I counted down the days to my first OB appointment so that I could see that the being inside me was doing well and growing fine. After that first appointment? No, really after the thirteenth week, I lost track. People would ask how many weeks I was pregnant (obviously other pregnant moms or recently pregnant moms) and I would falter. I didn’t know. Often I’d just blurt out a number then go home and look at my calendar and discover I was further along than I had said I was.

Since she was born it’s no less a wonderful thing. It’s no less a joy to have an infant around our house. In fact, in some ways, it is the best time that I’ve had an infant around the house. She smiles, she giggles, she is easy to please.

If you ask me how old she is, however, I will round to the nearest half-month. Every time. Sometimes that might mean that I round up to the half-month before it’s actually warranted. To tell the truth, I have no idea whatsoever how many weeks old my third child is at any given time.

I can tell you that it doesn’t mean that I love her any less than I love her siblings. Love does, indeed, multiply with each child. However, the concept of time seems to fade with each birth.

One moment they’re babies, the next they’re going away to college.

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Heather is mom to three children (a 6-year-old daughter, a 4-year-old son and an almost 8-month-old daughter who is *cough cough* weeks old). When she's not cleaning up after her kids, she can be found blogging, making things for her etsy shop or sleeping...probably in that order.