"I don't Wike Shandals!"

This video was taken the same day that we dyed eggs.

As you can see, Zane as in fine form. Being very disagreeable.

Is it bad that it makes me laugh?

He did not want to wear his new sandals or go bare foot but desperately wanted to go outside.

What to do? What to do?

His choices were he could either change his attitude and go play OR he could come inside and have a time-out. But either way he was not going to continue to stand at the door and whine and cry about his "shandals."

I forget why he is not wearing any pants.

chores

The chore charts are working great around here.

Owen loves helping Daddy with the trash

This was not on their list, but Kate offered to sweep the kitchen. Um, okay.

Someone at church gave me a tablet of these chore charts a long time ago. We've used them a couple of times before when we're working on something new like this.

They get stickers for doing their responsibilities. (we're ignoring the day columns)

Owen has his own little train track chart below.

When they get to the end of a row they get to move a stone

from the mug to the glass square.

When all the stones are in the square they have earned a special treat...

a trip to Science Central.

If we catch them exhibiting one of the character traits we're working on or doing something above and beyond what is expected then we can tell them to move a stone.

It doesn't count if they come up and tell us the did such and such.

We have to catch them in the act.

And they don't get one every time.

Conversely, if they exhibit wrong behavior we can tell them to move a stone back to the mug.

They do this at Kate's preschool. It works like a charm. Encourages them to make good choices and to help each other do so.

Titled Tuesday

the naughty spot

Zaner?

mission: transition 18 month old from crib to toddler bed.

night one: 45 minutes and about 15+ "put backs" / swats.

night two: only 1 escape attempt.

night three: my sister put him down and he didn't get up once!

It can be done!!!!!

We'll see if he follows version 1.0 and re-tests the limits in a few weeks.

But for now, I am pretty stoked!

The "twins"

Every once in a while I'll get asked if Owen and Zane are twins. They are not quite the same height, but
I can kind of see it.

Here we are on a trip to the doctor. I think for a 15 mo. well-check up for Zane. We arrived too early. The office hadn't reopened after lunch. (Being too early really is getting to be a problem for me).

So I took the opportunity to work on a little stroller holding with Zane.

At around 15-17 months I taught all my kids how to hold on to the stroller or cart.

It has become indispensable for me as you can imagine.


Basically we practice, practice, practice with lots of praise for correctly following instructions.
"Good job, Zaney! You're a big boy. You hold the stroller! You're doing a good job!"
"No, no. Mommy said Hold the stroller. Obey Mommy. Good job."

I'm sure I sound like an idiot, but I think he's getting the hang of it.

Then we hung out in the lobby for a while.

And had a snack.

Two peas in a pod.

watching the construction.

I love these boys.

almost 3

Fly on the Wall Friday

Time now for a little thing I like to call "Fly on the Wall Friday." If you were a fly on the wall at my house this week you may have heard the following:

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Kate, at her birthday party: "Mom, I sure will be surprised when you tell me I'm getting a baby sister!"
Me, eyebrows raised: "I'd be surprised about that too, honey!"

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I stayed home from church after our big family reunion weekend so v3.0 and 4.0 could nap and I could get things around for Kate's birthday party. Eric took v1.0 and 2.0 with him.

(pretend "the Fly" flew to church)

Michelle Yoder, upon entering ABF room and not seeing me: "Eric, where's Jen?"

Eric: "She's at home. She needed to recouperate from the weekend." (so not the answer I would have given, but sadly, rather accurate.)

Michelle: "That doesn't sound like her. Is she pregnant!?"

Just to dispell any doubt... No, I am not pregnant!

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PREFACE: I had a battle with my third born the other day. He had thrown his cup and pitched a fit when I told him no to his drink-refill request. I put him in time out on his bed and told him I'd let him get up when he had self-control (which in our house means, in part: sitting quietly, no crying and hands folded) and apologize. Well, it took him a while... When he had stopped crying I went in and asked him to show me that he had self-control—ie. hands folded* more on this later. In his stubbornness he refused to "show me self-control." He was perfectly capable of doing it, simply refusing. I was determined to wait him out. He would do his best pout/ sad face, and sob a little for effect, yet refuse my simple request...

Zane, from the living room, realizing I've been gone for some time now: "Waaah!! Waaah!! Waaah!!"

Owen, pointing to door: "-aner -eed -elf -on roll!"
translation: "ZANER needs self-control!"

Oh, really!

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Liam, at the breakfast table: "Dad, I wish those could be in order." (referring to the kids' portraits hanging on the living room wall. They are arranged in a square—2 above 2. Obviously, not "in order")

Eric: "Now who does that sound like?"

Me: "Yes, yes, yes. I've created a monster."

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Owen, crawling into my lap: "I baby Owie."
He loves for me to pretend he is a baby.

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*One way we practice/teach self-control at our house is through hand folding. I think we got it from "Growing Kids God's Way". Anyhoo, it is something we teach in moments of non-conflict, but then require often in situations similar to the one above. The act of folding their hands in itself gives a place for busy little minds and excess energy to be channeled. It takes conscious effort on their part to fold their hands and keep them that way. Instead of "don't _____" it is something they CAN "do." It comes in handy in many circumstances: when they need to sit still or be quiet, touching something they shouldn't, when they are angry, or simply need to calm down. It is amazing how well it works with our kids, and we found it a great practical application for teaching what self-control really means. It takes lots of effort, consistancy and training, but in the end watching my 3 year old daughter compose herself mid-tantrum because I asked her to "get self-control" is a blessing to my heart. So there you go... a glimpse into parenting our many small children.