Victory

On Saturday, I enjoyed a much needed date. No, not with Brian (we went out on Friday). With Camp. I know I’ve said it before, but I’ve got to say it again. Taking my kids out one-on-one does so much for our relationship. I really do see them through clearer, better eyes. Camp chose to go to Subway again–I guess it will be a tradition–and he requested to sit at the picnic tables outside. He is so funny. The kid talks non-stop. And he ate a whole foot-long. I finished way before him so I got to sit there and watch him just totally enjoying himself. And I did my best to not tell him to hurry. The poor kid probably hears hurry up about twenty times a day. Oh, man–the regrets of a mother. But anyway…next he wanted to go to Fred Meyer to show me the key chains he likes. After checking those out, we spent another hour, atleast, scoping out the Halloween isles and then the toy section. Isn’t it funny how kids could seriously spend ten hours examining and commenting on each and every toy? And finally, after I had lovingly dragged Camp away from the toy isles and he had spent at least a good twenty five minutes in the bathroom, we went to look for some new sneakers. (Hmmm….I love that word–sneakers) See, this is the thing. Camp is over-the-top picky when it comes to his shoes. He has worn his Crocs for almost the entirety of his last three years, so trying to get him used to anything else has been a bit of a nightmare. It’s always the same thing. He puts on the shoes; he writhes around in torture, screaming; he says they are itching his toes or that there are weird bumps, and we finally pull the shoes off in an effort to stop the madness. (This reminds me….When I was a teenager, I didn’t care how in the heck a pair of shoes felt on my feet–minus my track shoes–as long as they were cute. And even worse, I would buy a pair of cute shoes in my normal size or smaller that were WAY TOO TIGHT on my feet before I would go up a size. Going up a size would just be a painful reminder that I was tall with big feet and that I would never be dainty and feminine. Oh, and that reminds me–my mom told me that she had a roommate in college who was in denial about her appropriate bra size. So despite desperately needing a size 40 DD, she wore an A. For her, getting a larger bra meant accepting her weight problems and it was just more than she could handle. I totally get it because of my shoe thing. )This time, though, things went considerably better. Although Camp still managed to find some kind of defect with the first five pairs he tried on, he at least voiced his protest rationally and allowed me to offer additional alternatives. And you know what? We finally found a pair he liked. Not only did he agree to wear them, but he said they felt good. It only helped that I told him that they were athletic shoes made especially for running. Already he is convinced that they do, in fact, make him run faster and jump higher. We broke them in with a few laps around the neighborhood. Anyway, I’m delighted.
And can you beleive it? My camera battery was dead for Jane’s first day of preschool! But trust me. She looked stinkin’ darling, marching on in there with a big ol’ smile on her face. And she LOVED it–just like I knew she would. Have I ever mentioned what an angel Jane is in primary? She gave her first talk today and Brian didn’t even have to dictate to her what to say the whole time. The last time Camp was asked to give a talk, however, he refused to say anything at all, so while I proceeded to give his talk for him, he decided his contribution would be stomping on my feet. Perfect. Speaking of Camp and violence and church, the visitors in back of us in sacrament meeting today looked on in horror as Camp jabbed a colored pencil into my arm–breaking the skin–and then whined during the sacrament prayer, and kicked me. I’m sure you’ll agree, however, that the worst part of those moments is not what the kid is doing, but the judgment you feel from those around you. You just know that everyone is watching intently to see how you will appropriately handle the situation–or at least that’s how you feel. And you know what? I didn’t know what in the heck to do. I’ve started a new thing, though, that if my kids aren’t able to be reverent in church, they have to spend a good long time in their rooms, practicing, when we get home. (And I’m not talking the number of minutes equal to his/her age. I’m talking an hour and a half or more…Well,excluding Danin. She gets off easy. ) And I wish the bad behavior had ended there, but later Camp’s primary teacher mentioned to Brian that Camp needs to work on being more reverent there, too. Oh, man. I felt so disappointed. But I fully acknowledge I need help–like the divine intervention type–so my prayers will in part be directed at seeking guidance for how to better help and motivate Camp to be well-behaved at church. And I need to find a way to help him actually enjoy church, too. Any ideas would be appreciated.

Oh, and one more thing! Brooke’s coming to visit! Oh, man, I can’t wait. I have to hurry and find some way to make my house look cute for her. I think I’ll paint my bedroom…