I Have Failed

Across the street from where I live there is a little house.  An older lady lives there with what appears to be her teenage son.  I sometimes see a girl but mostly just the mother and son.

Choosing To Help

One of my parenting principles is not requiring my child(ren) to help.  I believe that by teaching compassion they will WANT to help out of the goodness of their heart and not from a feeling of obligation.  As such, Nicholas doesn't have chores and he is not required to do anything that is for maintaining of a home.  What he is required to do are things that are done for sanitary or safety purposes, because that is something else I also have to teach.  So he throws his trash in the trash can and he puts his dirty clothes in the hamper and picks up his toys (because we can trip and fall over them).

NOV07 7.0 - "Nicholas"

WOW!  He is SEVEN years old and I am in disbelief!  It just doesn't feel like it has really been that many years.  He is now more than half my size and that still amazes me every time I notice.  Granted, I'm short so that's not very tall and he is still the shortest first grader in his school.  But still, DUDE!  Pretty soon he'll be my size, and that's not an exaggeration.  I am happy I have a growing child, my wallet is begging him to slow his growing.

On his birthday we went to Disneyland and we stayed late so that he could watch the fireworks.  He is now tall enough for a lot of the larger rides and he enjoys those.  On Sunday we had cake and pizza with grandma and parents.  This coming Saturday he will have his birthday party at his aunt's and finish off his birthday month celebration with Thanksgiving.

His 6th year was packed with all sorts of experiences and new things and changes.  Not all were good.  We have learned a lot this past year and grown a lot:

Great Days

I'm sitting on a bus, heading home from Target, and we've been stopped for about 15 minutes.  Why?  Someone spilled a drink and they have to clean it up due to a slip and fall hazard.

Nicholas sits next to me blabbering on as I scroll through facebook, casually thinking of our day.  Over all, it was good.  And I tell him so.

"Thank you for behaving today."

"You're welcome."

"I appreciate it when you behave."

"You forgive me for when I don't behave?"

"Of course!"

He understands things get difficult for the both of us when he can't quite behave, and I do try so hard to keep my cool and be understanding that he is not as in control as most his age. 
But it's not always that way.  Sometimes it's good.  Even great.  Today was great.  And I must keep reminding myself of this as I think of the impending supermarket trip that must take place this weekend.

Sometimes it's great.

Choosing Delayed Gratification!

I've been meaning to write this for two weeks now but just couldn't seem to find the time.  Or energy.  Honestly, it's been a bit warm and muggy, which is not what summer is usually like here, so I just want to veg out next to the AC.

Anyway, on to Nicholas.

We all love instant gratification, you do something and you get a reward.  But most people, I think, learn pretty young that there is also value in delayed gratification and that sometimes waiting just a little more is better and totally worth it.  I have seen that most of the other kids Nicholas' age began learning this at around 5-ish.  Not Nicholas.

The Story of Nicholas

Like most stories that are only told orally, there are many details that get left out in order to get the point across before the listener falls asleep.  But sometimes those details hold the most meaning, the most impact.

The story of Nicholas, how he came about, is not one of years of trying to conceive, there was no tragic event, nothing inspiring.  His story isn't about my pregnancy, though that's quite a story all on it's own, or even him specifically.  It's about something a doctor felt the need to mention.  And an outfit.

I Am Not A Father

Every year I get the same thing from various people and while I do understand and appreciate the sentiment, I find it a bit insulting.  As always, it's my personal opinion and to each their own.

A mother is a female and a father is a male.  To me, that is as far as the distinction goes.  To say a mother is special because she carried the child diminishes the role of females who have adopted children or who have willingly taken on the responsibility of a child not theirs.  To say a birth mother is more special than an adoptive mother or step mother is insulting at best.  And where does that leave the father?  Is a man less of a father because he does not share any genetic material with the child?