Author - Lorri

I was all set to write a post about the value of saying you’re sorry to your children when you’ve messed up.

See, yesterday Boo dashed outside after doing his chores.  He didn’t ask if he could go out and I needed him to stay in.  Then, as I passed the playroom, I saw that he did not clean it completely, the way he’s been taught.  In his rush to go out, he’d done a sloppy job.

I was tired, frustrated, in a rush and angry and I wanted him to know.  I gathered up the offending toys, took away his Game Boy and grounded him for the rest of the weekend.

Ha.  I showed him who’s boss around here.

After he’d gone to bed, I realized I was a bit harsh.  I decided to allow him to play with his friends over the weekend, but no Game Boy and no more going out after chore time.

This morning I found out from the magic of the Mom Network, that Boo and his posse had been playing War again.  It’s usually younger boys vs older boys in the neighborhood, and nothing good ever comes out of it.  Boo and his buddy next door have been told not to play anymore.

I thought something was up yesterday when the older boys were out behind our backyard with lightsabers.  But I was in a hurry and I didn’t follow up on it.  When my suspicions were confirmed during a phone call today, I knew Boo was in for it.

I asked him point blank, “Were you playing war yesterday.”  Sadly, my boy was not honest with me until I revealed that I already knew that he was because I had talked to one of the boys’ moms.

Poor kid.  I had him and he knew it.  With one poor decision, he torpedoed his whole weekend.  And now for the listing of his punishments:

For running out after chore time without permission – staying inside after chores.  No exceptions, don’t even ask.
For  incorrectly doing his chores -  loss of the toys not put away (must earn them back) and no Game Boy for the weekend
For playing War – no playing with friends all weekend.
For lying- no playing with friends  on Monday and Tuesday, either

I could have been harder on him, but I saw true remorse.  He’s normally a very trustworthy and honest boy, so I saw no need to really land on him.  Plus, he’s very social, so even these 4 days are likely going to nearly kill him.

Sigh.

We have been invaded by Webkinz.  Let the fights over the computer begin.

Pumpkin Girl was excited to participate in the Powder Puff Derby. She told all of her friends about it and had a great time designing and decorating her car. She could hardly wait for the day to arrive.

Her Brownie Troop was the first to race and hers was one of the first cars. Two of her best friends’ cars were racing against hers. We loaded the cars on to the track and away they went. Two of the cars finished a close one-two and Pumpkin Girl’s car was a distant third. The disappointment in her face was clear, but I gave her an encouraging smile and she smiled back. The cars were set to race again, with similar results. Pumpkin’s car raced in the next few races and each time it seemed to get slower. In fact, it looked like it was barely going to make it to the finish line.

As parents, we do our best to coach our children through the disappointments and hurts of life. Sometimes we can head them off ahead of time by stressing a positive attitude before a big game or competition. We make sure that their dances or music pieces are well rehearsed before a recital. We talk about what to expect and how to react. Many times we can be right there as their hearts begin to hurt, guiding them through the complicated and fickle world of best friends and second best friends, friends that move away and friends that never come around anymore. And then there are the times that either by circumstance or design that we must stand back and let them suffer through a heartache alone.

The Powder Puff Derby was one of those times for Pumpkin Girl. As she sat in the racer’s area, her back was to most of the spectators, but those of us helping with the race could see her face plainly. She loved her little Becky Angel car so much but to watch it race so poorly was too much for her 7 year old heart. My Brownie co-leader said that she looked so serious and I said, no, she’s struggling not to cry. Even the Cub Master who was MC’ing at the time commented to Philip that Pumpkin looked shy. He gave the same answer – she’s about to cry. In between races, the Cub Master (also named Phil) volunteered to take a look at Pumpkin’s car to try to help it. As soon as her car cycled out of the line up, he whisked it away to work on it.

Nothing much could be done. Her wheel axles were bent and no spare ones were to be had. Cub Master Phil did his best, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to be winning any races.

The next time her car raced, it did better. It finished last, but this time it was much closer to the #2 car. I continued to help out with the race, all the time watching her struggle to maintain control. How she did it, I will never know, but she dug down deep and found a strength inside her I didn’t know she had. She maintained her composure the whole time and even smiled a little when both her best friends made it to the troop finals.

When I was finally able to go to her, she was still upset, but no longer on the verge of tears. I told her how proud I was of her. It is so hard when we expect one thing to happen and something else happens instead. It’s even worse when it happens in front of a lot of people. The easy thing to do is to run and hide. The hard thing to do is to stick to it and try to smile. It is easy to give up, but hard to say “I want to try again next time.”

And that’s just what Pumpkin Girl did. By the time the whole derby was over, she was smiling and laughing again. She said that next year she wants to build a rocket ship car!

As we were leaving, I told her that Cub Master Phil, after seeing her car and trying to fix it, said that next year he’d like to have a workshop for the Girl Scouts, to help them cut their wood and teach them how to buff their axles and add graphite to their wheels. Pumpkin Girl said, “It’s good that God made my car go slow so that Mr. Phil would know he needed to help us next year. If my car hadn’t lost, it wouldn’t have helped the Girl Scouts.”

It was at that moment that my eyes started to water and I struggled to maintain my composure.

It was at that moment that Pumpkin Girl showed her quality.

The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. Ah yes, it’s time for the Pinewood Derby. Nothing makes a parent groan like those two words.

We don’t have much experience with the Pinewood Derby. We’ve done a little research on the internet, but we don’t own the right tools and the last time one of us took a woodworking or metalworks class was in junior high. And it was me. (I did make a very nice metal dustpan and a whale shaped wooden cutting board.)

So we really try to focus on the fun. We encouraged Boo to come up with a clever design that he could do. We found a design online that we were able to copy and he came up with this car which he calls the “Army Fighter.”

Phil took him down to the woodshop to get his wood cut then promptly turned the rest of the carmaking over to me. Being the one in the family who has actually turned out copious amounts of folk-painted home decor items, I guess I was a natural. Though you’d think that after wearing woodland camouflage for 18 years, Phil would know how to paint it. He says not.

(Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t actually like crafting with the children. Every fiber in my being fights the urge to take over the project and do it right. Did I mention that I head up most of the crafts for our Brownie Troop? I’ve learned to smile through the pain.)

So I found myself instructing the boy how to base paint and why it’s important to listen to mama and not paint the bottom so that you have a place to set it down to dry. Then we consulted various models of camouflage, including the original inspiration for his car and I taught Boo how to sponge paint. Dab- dab, dab-dab, pounce, pounce, pounce. As you can see, he did a really great job. All the camouflage painting is all his. My inner perfectionist took over and I did the detail work. Phil donated the Army sticker.

Race day arrives and Boo is excited. We talked about how great his car looked and how now matter what happened, he had fun. His car did ok. He made it into the semi-finals for his den and that was it. But he did have a great time and he went back after lunch to see the pack finals and cheer on his buddy that won in his den. He’s already planning on a more aerodynamic design for next year. Overall a good experience in creativity and competition. Losing with dignity and aspiring to do better next year. Having fun in the process. It’s all good.

What I have intentionally left out of the story is the Powder Puff Derby.

While looking for fun patches for my Daisy troop last year, I discovered a Powder Puff Derby patch. How fun! I brought it up to my Brownie co-leader this year. Maybe any girl in our troop who has a Cub Scout brother and enters the family division could get a Powder Puff Derby patch. Oh, but what about the 3 (out of 10) who didn’t have a brother in Cub Scouts? Maybe we could ask the Cubs if we could let our whole troop race – and ooo! what if we could race our troop by itself! Oh, but what about all the other Girl Scouts on our base who have Cub Scout brothers? And the next thing you know, we’ve got a bona-fide Powder Puff Derby.

Jenn was slightly less enthused. She was an eyewitness to the pre-Derby planning and the headaches it entails. While I kept saying how easy this would be, she would patiently explain just how much work this “little” race was going to be. She was right, especially when almost as many Girl Scouts signed up as did Cub Scouts. From Brownies to Teens, we had about 25 racers.

The Girl Scouts really rose to the occasion. They glittered, beribboned and bejeweled their cars. We saw a lot of pink and purple. A great time was had by all and I just smiled and tried to be helpful and pretend like Jenn and her husband didn’t do most of the work for this. Phil MC’d for most of the Powder Puff Derby, with Bip riding on his back in the Ergo carrier, happily munching goldfish crackers.

So where was Pumpkin Girl in all of this? Well, she made the sweetest little car, painted purple and glittered, with a little angel as the driver. She named the car after her sister: the Becky Angel.

The rest of Pumpkin Girl’s story is for tomorrow.

Don’t you hate it when you’ve passed on one of your worst traits to your children? When I was a child I had two lovely silver capped front teeth. When Boo was a toddler, I discovered that his two front teeth were rotting away. A quick visit to the dentist and it was confirmed and a few weeks later he was under general anesthesia, getting caps put on.

It was a tough day. I can’t remember exactly, but I think they gave him something to drink and he slowly went to sleep in my arms. He went completely limp and he looked…well, I’m sure you can imagine. They whisked him off, wrapped up the blanket we brought along for him. I caught a glimpse of him later, as I passed the room on the way to the bathroom. He looked so small and helpless. The procedure went well and he slept most of the rest of the day. We’ve never looked back.

Bip suffered the same genetic fate. I discovered his decaying front teeth over the summer and we sought out a pediatric dentist. The first dentist visit was a complete disaster on all counts. So we found another one. He was so much better and attempted twice to fix Bip’s teeth in a way that would not require anesthesia. Both times were a failure and so today he went off to take a nap courtesy of the Goofy Gas (as my mom called it) and get caps put on.

He and Phil left in the dark hours of the morning. I stayed at home with Boo and Pumpkin Girl. We ran a couple of toddler-free errands and commented on how quiet the house was. While we were out, we got the call that all was well and Bip and Phil were on their way home.

It’s funny how your perspective changes over time. When Boo had his teeth done, my parents joined us at the dentist’s office, just to lend support. I had to step out of the office to regain my composure as they took him away. Today, 7 years later, I was just a little worried, but I knew everything would be fine. I thought it would be best not to drag everyone out in the cold, just to sit in the waiting room for hours. Plus, I had some things I wanted to do.

So what was different? A stronger faith and an acceptance that there are certain things I have no control over? Time, age and experience? A long to-do list? Not any one thing I think, but a combination. It’s funny, though, how your perspective changes.

Bip came home, no worse for the wear, with a new squeaky frog toy and a band-aid over his hand from the IV. He cried when he saw me and said, “Mama, ow” and showed me his hand. I took off the offending bandage and we all loved on him. He was only gone a few hours but we missed the silly guy. We settled back in to finish school and he sat on the couch, still in his pajamas and sipped milk.

It’s good when a day like today turns out perfectly fine. We thank the Lord and continue on. Some days, we get to be the lucky ones.

It doesn’t snow all that much in D.C. Just enough to keep us happy and wanting more. I let the children take an early break and we went for a walk in the snow.

Don’t my little trees look pretty in the snow?