Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Stop giving my kid stuff because he's cute

Seriously.

Zim and I watched our local fireworks last night because we're both always looking for a reason to stay up late and my husband's a grumpy hermit and Gir is pretty hardcore about having a proper bedtime.

He's covering his face because he's mad at me for not giving him light up crap.
We set up our blanket relatively close to the stands where they were selling light up crap and Zim kept wandering over repeatedly, always telling me he just had to get something real quick.

We had a discussion about how the light up crap costs money and I wasn't giving him any money tonight.

This cycle continued for far too long as I impatiently waited for the fireworks to start. Eventually Zim approached his boiling point. I was thisclose to taking him back to the car and saying forget about fireworks.

Then the guy working the stand gave him one of the cheap little glow sticks for free. I was not happy.

You see, while he was busy driving me not so slowly insane, he was being nothing but sweet and adorable to the guy ruining the stand, flashing his blonde haired blue eyed smile and 4-year-old precociousness for all it was worth.

And it totally worked. He's only 4, but this kid is a master manipulator and his looks are his best weapon when it comes to strangers (or relatives who don't see him as often as they like).

Earlier in the day my husband took him out for ice cream and the assistant manager gave him a balloon. Maybe that was because it was a holiday.

The aforementioned ice cream and an example of the smile he flashes in order to con people out of stuff
The day before at church, the drummer in the band gave him and his sister his old drum sticks. I know, people at church are nice, and that's a good thing.

His grandparents who live halfway across the country were just here and showered him and his sister with stuff. Granted, mostly stuff they wanted, but also so much of it that it kind of lost it's meaning.

I guess that's what I'm frustrated about. People give my kids so much stuff that they take it for granted that people will give them stuff if they look cute enough or whine enough. Those are not the kinds of kids I'm trying to raise. So please, don't give my kids stuff just because they're cute.

Monday, July 4, 2016

Night Running

I went for a run tonight. I kind of had to. It was a rough day with the Fucking-Four-Year-Old. Not your average bad day with a FFYO full of great shows of ability and responsibility coupled with frustrating oversteps of those bounds and infuriating regressions to helplessness.

No, this was a day where I had not one, but several out of body experiences because I literally had no idea what to do with my child's behavior. There was some serious rage built up and physical exertion seemed to be the only cure.

Tonight happened to be the best night to start running again. Being July 3, there were plenty of fireworks to see.

Also, I had decided earlier in the day that I was going to go to Dunkin Donuts when the kids went to bed so I could replenish my coffee supply without the incessant begging for donuts. Conveniently, our nearest Dunkin is about the distance I was planning to run. So I not only purchased my coffee, but an after workout treat to savor on the walk home.

It also happened to be perfect because while getting a little "me time" while they were in the tub, I read an article about how people who exercise regularly are significantly better at overcoming obstacles, and I mused about how regularity is exactly what's missing from my current workout routine, and the ability to overcome the obstacle of my FFYO's tantrums would be a nice side benefit.

I try to do yoga every morning, but little people's needs always seem to get in the way. I try to walk on my lunch breaks at work, but I always seem to find things that cut into my walks.

Enter the Couch-to-5K program, which I've done several times over the years. My lunch time walks have been nice, but, honestly, I'd rather run. With two kids who tend to wake up the instant my feet hit the floor, I was having trouble figuring out where to fit running, though.

I've never been a night runner before, mostly because I have a more than healthy fear of the dark, but there's plenty of well-lighted streets in my neighborhood, so it was kind of fun to be out at a time when I'm usually not, when there weren't a lot of other people out either. I'm cautiously optimistic that I may have figured out where to fit running in my schedule.

And with a FFYO who hates going to bed, I'm sure there will be plenty of nights where I have rage to burn off with a run anyway.