Pump up the volume

My house is a loud one.

Depending on who's home and awake, it can be a very loud one with all its members competing for attention and time. The worst times are in the evenings when all four of us and the dog are home. Usually, my husband and I are trying to watch a TV show that requires us to hear what the characters are saying (why we didn't give this up when we had kids I'll never know).

Children are magnetically drawn to parents that are involved in something that is enjoyable. It doesn't matter where they are or what they are doing, the radar dings and Ivy and Story speed around all obstacles, down stairs, even through closed doors, to position themselves directly in front of the television or whatever object we might be paying attention to.

If mere positioning doesn't do the trick, they will then telepathically conspire to perform. This might be dancing, jumping, making faces, or even fighting with each other. Ivy and Story are very good at this. When they walk in front of the television and see that Mommy and Daddy have are still paying attention to those boring people on the screen, their first step is to stage some kind of theatrical performance.

"Mommy, watch my ballet dance!" Ivy yells as she does some kind of jumpy, twittery move.

"Daddy, wook at me!" Story screams as she attempts to jump off of the coffee table.

This behavior usually results in us pausing the TV, watching the performance and clapping or lecturing (in the case of the coffee table) . Then, we resume viewing.

Not to be outdone, the girls might continue doing different loud movements or dances, screaming for our attention every time. Or, they might just continue to do the same thing, over and over and over and over again until Daddy has reached his threshold and looks at Mommy and says, "I can't hear." I will then get up off of the couch and persuade the kids to go to the other room, sometimes going with them pretending that I am going to play or something. If I'm lucky, my husband won't start the show again till I am back....but I'm usually not lucky.

I race back to the couch and get interested again. In phase two, little feet pitter patter through the hallway. Nothing. Then, the scrape of one of the stools on the kichen floor. Nothing. The sound of a cabinet opening. More feet. "MOOOOOMMMY, Story's on the counter." Sing-song tattle-tell voice.

"Story, get down," I call from the couch.

Five minutes later, chaos reigns. The kids are throwing stuff from the counter, singing, yelling, fighting, whatever works. Most often, I can drown this out by simply turning up the TV and refusing to go in there. Daddy, who does not have this innate ability to ignore his children, gets upset and stops the show again. Sometimes, only one of us go in there, but eventually we call for reinforcements. TV and grown-up time is left until the munchkins are in bed, which is a whole other quandry to deal with.

The best plan is to not watch anything until the children go to sleep. But, sometimes I can't stay up till midnight to watch a TV show.

Pillow fight

Ivy and Story were fighting over a puzzle. I tried to let them "fight it out on their own," (see earlier post), but after a few seconds I realized they were both tired and not their rational selves. (Insert funny laugh).

So, I brought them both over to the couch where they cried and screamed and tried to simultaneously get down and fight each other. I tried to talk calmly about who had the puzzle first, etc. which is a trick I use sometimes. If I can get them to talk about it long enough, then switch the conversation smoothly to something else, they cease to fight over the original item. Of course, that means that in ten minutes they will fight over something else.

In this case, when I thought I had them diverted, I lessened my grip, and they both rushed over to the puzzle and resumed their earlier skirmish with renewed violence. Ivy hit Story, she hit Ivy. I realized that as a Mom of the Year candidate, I could not allow this to go on.

So, I tried calling to them, offering other options, and finally begging. The hitting did not stop. So, I tried a diversionary tactic. I grabbed two throw pillows off the couch, crawled stealthily over to the chaise, and launched one lightly at the girls.

It hit Story on the back.

She immediately let out a wail and fell over on her side. Ivy, however was laughing. Pillow number two ready in hand, I swung it up in a perfect arc and hit her...on top of the head. Ivy then joined in the screaming, which was becoming much louder than the fight had been.

Instantly feeling shame, I rushed over to the girls, scooped them up in my arms and went back to the couch. Ivy cuddled into me, sobbing deeply. Story tried to escape my arms.

I felt bad. Really bad. Had the pillows hurt them? Were they just too tired? I thought they would laugh at me and come attack me with pillows!

Story managed to squirm off my lap and run back to the puzzle. She flopped her body down on the hardwood floor (ouch!) and started screaming, "I want my DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!" I was really sad, then.

Ivy forgave me, though, and started smiling. "Did it hurt you?" I asked. She smiled and said, "No, Mommy."

"Then why are you crying?"

She laughed. "I don't know!" So, I was about to get really mad at myself for nothing?

Story was still screaming for her Daddy. I went and picked her up again and brought her back to the couch. I said, "Story, I'm sorry, did the pillow hurt you?"

"No!!!!!!!!"

Awww, poor baby." I cradled her in my arms. "Do you still love me?"

"No, I love DADDY!!!!!" Ouch.

"Well, I love Mommy," Ivy offered. You go, girl! Then, she kissed me on the cheek.

Not to be outdone, Story proclaimed, "I love Mommy TOO!!!!!!!!!!!" and then kissed me. Ahhh, playing the "copy the other sister card." I'm definitely not above it.

Fighting amongst my offspring

This past week, the girls have been fighting. A lot.

Usually it's over some "thing". For instance, yesterday Ivy was holding a marker. She puts it down on the coffee table, and walks away to get something else. Story saw that something her sister was holding is no longer in her possession, so she grabs it. Ivy has a sixth sense about those things, and she immediately senses that something she once had is now in the hands of her enemy.

So, Ivy shouts at the top of her little lungs, "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!! Story took my marker!" She used that sing-song voice that usually accompanies "Nah nah nah boo boo." Nothing irritates me more.

"Story! Give it back!" I yell.

Story responds to this admonishment by running around the living room gleefully in her tutu (and nothing else, the preferred method of wearing it). Ivy chases her, I start counting....and eventually we all three end in tears.

But, what's fair here? Ivy did put it down. But she did have it first. How am I going to judge who should get the marker? Story definitely only took it because Ivy had it, but Ivy put it down. In these cases, I most often have to end up taking it away from both of them, which causes a volcanic meltdown of mega proportions, and I try to avoid those if at all possible.

If I let one of them keep it, I can't seem to interest the other one in anything, even CANDY!

Sometimes I get all Biblical on them and try to cut whatever it is in half in hopes that one of them will sacrifice it to the other.....but this always backfires, too.

I like it when my husband is home, because then I can pass the job of judge on to him. I just try to ignore the ensuing fight when one of them takes something the other one had in the hopes that his toleration for screaming is less than mine, and he'll step in and deal with it. (Please don't tell him because he might try to outlast me.) Then, when the offended party starts crying, Mommy can step in and be "good cop."

And I can only imagine this getting worse- what happens when they fight over clothes? Boys? Really, am I going to threaten to cut little Johnny Smith in half when they both like him?

Hopefully I'll figure it out. Soon. But, let's be honest- I probably never will.