Three Divided By One-On-One (Babble)

I am glad I have siblings.  My brothers are a connection to my past and to areas of the world beyond my own reach.  I love them more than I can say, but I remember as a child the sense of competition that comes with having siblings.  Many times it was nice to have the attention of my parents diverted by my brothers, and the house was lively and interesting with the children outnumbering the adults. 

But I also remember how complicated things could get the more individuals had to be added into any equation, in terms of sleeping arrangements away from home, what we could eat or how many could fit in the car, etc.  The logistics of living with multiple children is a whole special skill set.  One of the biggest challenges I remember was to eke out time with a parent alone, to not feel overlooked, to feel loved and special apart from the ever present group.

Now I’m experiencing the same issue from the point of view of the parent, and it isn’t any easier.  Lately the need for my undivided attention has led to bruised feelings and frustration.  I’m not sure what to do.  What I need is more time and I don’t know where to find it.

When my husband was deployed my kids had me all the time.  Now that Ian is home and in the role of the stay at home parent, I’m back at work and my kids miss me.  It doesn’t help that recently I’ve had to take a few trips to Michigan without them, which also means more time away from them when I come back because I need to catch up on the work I missed while I was gone.  On a typical school day I don’t see my kids until I get home from work a little after 5:00.  There is dinner, violin practice, reading time, midnight snuggle.…  That’s a lot to cram into not a lot of time before they are all supposed to be in bed with the lights out by 8:00, and they all want time with me alone.


When I’m helping Mona with violin practice she loves that it’s just the two of us, but more often than not Quinn will discover I’m sitting with an unoccupied lap and join us.  This gets on Mona’s nerves, even if all Quinn wants to do is sit there.  Sometimes I tell her to relax, and sometimes I encourage Quinn to wait in the other room.  Either way, someone is unhappy.  When it’s Aden’s turn to practice, Mona then wants to cuddle with me, forgetting completely how annoyed she was moments before when she was the one trying to practice sans siblings.

Sibling interference is complicated enough in our house that we have to have the girls actual violin lessons (with the same teacher) on different days, even though this is inconvenient for us.  The stress put on Mona to do a lesson before or after her sister made her harder to teach.  Now that she has violin on her own day she’s enjoying it much more and improving faster, so it’s worth the effort, but that doesn’t make it less annoying as far as our schedules go.  My children are different when you get them one-on-one instead of as a set, and the violin lessons are one way we are mindful of that.

To help my kids with their reading skills we’ve been reading together in the living room every evening before bed.  Each child reads something to me, and then I read something to each of them.  Mona and I are making our way through the ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ books, and Aden and I are almost done with ‘Little House on the Prairie.’  Mona doesn’t want anyone else around when I read to her because she sees it as her time.  She glares at anyone else who tries to sit down on the couch, too.  Aden won’t read aloud in front of her siblings for some reason, even though she’s reading things they would enjoy.  What should be a nice time for us all together taking turns reading can get contentious.  If I play it just right I can get us all under one blanket and we can read as a group, but often I end up sending some children away so we can read one-on-one, and again, someone is always unhappy.

I get time alone with Quinn probably more often than anyone because he’s only in school for half the day.  Sometimes Ian will bring him to the violin store when I’m working, and on the alternate days when the store is closed I’ll spend the afternoon with him at home when I can.  Aden manages to carve out time with me for help with homework or playing heart and soul on the keyboard.  She also has moments when she needs a hug or a cry and she’ll corner me on the couch and keep me there alone for as long as she can. 

The person most in need of one-on-one time for awhile was Mona, and she’s found ways to solve that herself.  Sometimes she’ll come with me to work for an entire Saturday (even though it’s boring for her, really) just to get me alone.  She also invented midnight snuggle.  She cuddles up and reviews her day and asks me questions and gives me hugs and Eskimo kisses.  It’s lovely. 

But Quinn has been worming his way into it whenever he can.  It bugs Mona to no end that her brother wants to be in the bed too during midnight snuggle time, but I just focus my attention on her and tell her it doesn’t matter, and then I make it up to Quinn later.

Recently I got a note from Aden that she put in my room one morning letting me know that being excluded from midnight snuggle made her sad.  (The note was complete with an illustration of her weeping, just in case I missed the point.)  I talked with her about it, and she said she can hear us talking and giggling from her bed and she feels left out.
It’s hard making time for each girl’s violin practice, and for individual reading, and I can’t do midnight snuggle with each child or we really would be up until midnight to do it.  I told Aden I was really sorry, but that I have three kids, and sometimes that means doing things with one that leaves the others out.  I reminded her of the pottery classes we did together, and how many times we’ve been able to do things just the two of us because she’s the oldest.  I told her she can’t begrudge Mona or Quinn for wanting times like that, too.  She says she understands, but she still doesn’t like it.

It’s not that my kids don’t get along.  For the amount of time they spend together I’m shocked they get along so well, frankly.  But it’s like I’m some rare commodity that throws everything out of balance, and there is only so much we can cram into those couple of evening hours.  We can’t split up the time by doling out some of the reading or violin or midnight snuggle to their dad because that’s not what they want.  They love their dad, but he’s more available in general, and they don’t seek him out for the same activities.  Sometimes everything has been going fine until I get home and then unhappiness and mild chaos ensue.  So every evening I hope for the best and wish for extra time to spend with each of my children.

The irony is when they are old enough to stay up later and we could have a little more time they probably won’t be interested anymore.  And I’ll wonder why I ever thought spending time with my kids was considered a problem.

Days With My Little Guy (Babble)

School has finally let out for the summer here.  In the last week Aden’s class did their annual Cosmic Creation Opera on stage (my daughter was a yellow blob this year–I’ve never been more proud).  She brought home lots of artwork and more paper in her tattered backpack than I know what to do with.  We gave Mona’s teacher a small gift and some flowers because in the fall Mona will be moving on to first grade.  In Montessori school you stay with one teacher for three years, so moving on to a new classroom is a big deal.  Mona’s nervous, but she’ll be fine.  She’ll have all summer to get used to the concept.

We’re ready for summer break.  I know people periodically review the merits of year round schooling and say that summer vacation is outdated and in some ways detrimental, and in part I agree with the logic, but in my heart I favor the break.  Maybe it’s because I’ve always lived in the midwest where the summer months feel so radically different from the rest, but the fall and winter schedules don’t work well when the daylight stretches on so long and everything about the world beckons you outside. 

I’m a productive person, but I’m also a creative person, and I know the value of being able to lounge around in an unstructured environment.  Long lazy days give you time to let ideas settle and shift around and become something new.  I love my memories from my childhood of actually being bored over summer vacation.  It was different from being bored now.  As an adult I’m only bored when I’m stuck someplace I don’t want to be without a book or a sudoku puzzle, and it’s irritating because I know there are other things I could be getting done elsewhere.  As a kid there was nothing else to get to or do.  (Except clean my room or do something useful, but that doesn’t occur to a fifth grade solipsist.)  Life, even at its best, is hard, so I want my kids to play while they can so they can look back on growing up in Milwaukee and say to themselves later, “Wasn’t that nice?”

I’m glad I don’t have to try and get everyone ready to leave the house so early in the morning for awhile.  It will be nice to go to the zoo or a museum if we feel up to it, or just play catch in the field behind the house until the sun sets if we want to.  There are concerts in the park to hear, ice cream trucks to chase, fireflies to capture, and puddles to stomp in.  When we’ve had our fill, fall will come around and structure will start to look appealing again.  But for now, despite the challenges ahead of working with all the kids home, I’m ready for summer.

The only real loss for me with this break is my time alone with Quinn.  He’s been my constant companion, and even though the occasional tantrum at the violin store when I’m trying to work has made me doubt if having him with me all the time has been the right decision, I’m lucky to have had him to myself for so long.

Lately at the violin store Quinn has spent his time on the computer.  He plays the Fetch games on the PBSkids website while I rehair bows and repair instruments.  He has his own routine there at the store, munching on goldfish crackers and playing with blocks.  I don’t get to interact with him much while I’m working, but it’s nice that he’s in the same room.

I try whenever possible to take him out somewhere if I can.  He knows the natural history museum here very well.  He likes to sit in the butterfly room and hold out a tentative finger in the hopes a tiny butterfly will land on it, but if one ever did I’m sure he’d freak out.  He tells me to hold out my finger too, and I’m supposed to catch a big one.  The one time I did he couldn’t wait for me to let it go.

But my favorite days are the ones where I don’t have any appointments at the store and we just come home after dropping off the girls at school.  It’s quiet with just my little boy here.  We go online and look at pictures of Jupiter and Neptune (the only planets with eyes, he tells me).  He lays out toys on the floor and asks me to click on one, whatever that means.  (About half the time I select something he tells me it’s “not availble.”)  We snuggle.  We read books.  I’m not allowed to sing or play music, but he likes to put CDs in while I work in the kitchen.  His favorite tune of the moment is ABC by the Jackson Five, and when his sisters aren’t home to complain we can just leave it on repeat for as long as he likes.  He’s a good eater.  He’ll help me make things for lunch like pasta salad that I know his siblings would never touch.  I love my lunches at home with Quinn.  He plays in the sandbox while I work on my own projects, and if he can sucker me into pushing him on the swing he will happily swing back and forth forever.

Most mornings at home we spend a lot of time going around the block.  I bring a plastic bag with me and pick up trash to keep myself occupied.  (Why don’t smokers think tossing cigarette butts on the ground is littering?)  Quinn just pedals away on his trike, the happiest little boy you ever saw.  He collects important leaves and sticks and puts them in the little compartment under the seat.

He’s a sweet little guy, but particularly when it’s just the two of us.  I feel so privileged to get to see a side of him that is just for me.  Quinn has spent all but a total of a couple of weeks of his life at my side.  He still sometimes crawls into my bed at night and snuggles up.  When he needs a nap he climbs into my arms.  I like being his home base.  When he wants to hold my hand he grabs onto just my pinky.  He’s gentle and dear and when he laughs I feel like in that moment I understand something important about life and that it’s wonderful.  His smile makes me melt every time.

I don’t mean to make it sound like there aren’t moments he makes me nuts.  There are too many mornings where we’d all be better off if I could let him sleep in so he wouldn’t be cranky, but I’ve had to drag him out of bed to get his sisters to school.  Most days he adapts fine, but on the days he doesn’t he’s made trying to get any work done at the violin store impossible.  I’ve had to turn away business just because a lunchtime appointment when I run out of food for Quinn at the store is too frustrating to deal with.  But on the whole Quinn is a remarkably easy kid.  Way better behaved than the average child, so when he does have an outburst I have to remember he’s just acting his true age.  And three is cute cute cute, but really difficult at times.  There is nothing quite like the petulance of a three year old who hits a combination of  hungry and tired that is beyond all reason.  But he won’t be three for much longer, and I try every day to appreciate the sweetness of this age.

He’s taller and leaner than he was when his dad left.  He still has baby fat in his cheeks, but nowhere else.  I can learn to share him when Ian gets back from Iraq, but I’ve enjoyed having my little guy to myself.  I try to picture him as a man one day, maybe able to lift me in his arms the way I currently lift him.  It’s hard to imagine him heading off into the world without me, but if I do my job right that’s where we’re headed.  This chapter of our lives where it’s just the two of us together most of the day is over beginning with this summer vacation.  He runs off to join his sisters’ games each morning, and in the fall he starts school.  I already miss him.