The Gun Talk

I finally did it, I finally had the gun discussion with Annika the other day. We talked about real guns and what to do if she ever sees one.

guns
Google image search on guns. It felt very strange to show this to my 4 and a half year old.

She asked me how guns work one morning over breakfast (she had watched a cartoon the day before that had a gun.) And so I jumped on the discussion that had been in the back of my mind since mid-January.

It took me about a month after the shootings in Newtown at Sandy Hook Elementary to come to the conclusion that the best lesson I could take away from the horrendous act was to teach my daughter about guns.

Honestly, I never thought about discussing guns with her at the young age of 4 and a half. We’ve discussed body parts and privacy. We’ve had discussions about strangers, but guns weren’t on my radar. It’s not something I thought I’d need to shelter her from at such a young age.

The only discussion we’ve ever really had about guns is that we don’t point toy guns at people. Until a few days ago, I’ve never told her that real guns kill people and that death is forever. The only death she’s dealt with so far is the death of our dog (who lived with Toyin) and she is still very sad about that. But she also thought for a while that he would “come back alive.”

During our discussion, I told her that guns are dangerous. I purposely left out the word “scary” during our discussion. I want her to know that guns are dangerous. But I worry that if she’s scared, she would freeze up if she ever saw one.

Very matter-of-factually, I told her three specific things:

  1. Guns are not to be played with.
  2. If you ever see one, run away and go tell a grown up.
  3. Never touch it.

And then I did an image search on Google for guns and showed her a few.

I pointed out a pistol.

A shotgun.

And for the semi-automatic, I just told her that, that gun was the most dangerous and could shoot a lot of bullets really fast.

I wondered if I was giving her too much information. Perhaps some of the details slipped on by and didn’t sink in.

I wonder if I’ve added to her anxiety about life. I definitely didn’t tell her that there was a shooting at a school, nor did I give her any indication that it could happen to her anywhere.

But I have to admit, I feel better that we’ve discussed it. And I feel worse because we had to discuss it.

 

 

Good Night Moon at Zach Scott

ZACH-Goodnight-Moon-46
Goodnight Moon at Zach Scott Theatre in Austin, Tx

Last weekend Annika and I went to Austin’s Zach Scott Theatre to see Good Night Moon, a family musical adapted from the iconic story book by Margaret Wise Brown and Clement Hurd. It was a favorite of ours when Annika was a baby. She still loves to read it occasionally.

Every once in a while I get freebie offers for my blog and I usually ignore them as most of them aren’t things that fit in with the flavor of Momsoap.

But this was one I couldn’t pass up. And we were both pleased that we went to see the show.

“Step into the great green room as one of the most iconic children’s books of all time is brought to life. In this lively musical about children’s imaginations at bedtime, Bunny’s room magically comes alive with stunning puppetry, tap dancing bears, and even a trip through the night sky with a constellation light show.”

ZACH-Goodnight-Moon-34Bunny’s imagination comes to life as this play expands on all the ways he can drag out bedtime. To be honest, the old lady whispering hush was a bit of a disappointment as I’d always imagined her to be a gentle soul. In this play, she’s cranky and tired and yells a lot. I suppose that’s more realistic ;).

Even so, the play was an overwhelmingly success. It was a cast of professional actors all with expert singing and dancing skills. It was enjoyable for both of us with the entertaining actors: Jill Blackwood, Amy Downing, Frank Nappi, and Jerome Schoolar of the Biscuit Brothers (hey, I knew that guy looked familiar!).

The best part of the play was that it held Annika’s firm attention for the entire hour and a half. She was glued to her seat and riveted by every scene and every action. And at the end of the play, she said she was tired from looking at the stars on the ceiling. Too bad she doesn’t nap anymore!

I highly recommend checking it out if you have a child who enjoys the theater. It’s perfect for the 3-6 age group (maybe older, I’m no expert on kids older than this age group).

To order tickets call 512-476-0541 ext. 1 or visit www.zachtheatre.org. Children’s tickets are $14, and adult tickets are $16. Showtimes are Saturdays at 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. The play runs Feb. 2 – March 23.

Disclaimer: I was compensated for this post with free tickets to the show.

 

The Single Mom Dilemma Inside Attachment Parenting

I’m one of the lucky ones, this is what I tell myself all the time. As far as single mothering goes, I have it relatively easier than many single moms.

But even so, I have these dilemmas that come up and I have to deal with them on my own simply because there is not another parent in the home on a daily basis.

I’m lucky becuase I have a very supportive co-parent, who is flexible on many issues. I have family nearby and I have good friends. I’m fortunate that I have a self-employable skill so that I can work at home and I’m able to pick up my daughter after school. I have nobody to call in and ask for days off if she’s sick. I have it easy. This is what I tell myself.

And many days, it does seem easy. We can run late for school and I don’t have the worry about a boss breathing down my neck if I’m late. I don’t have to fight traffic very much. I don’t have a spouse to argue with or mesh schedules with. Since Annika mostly lives on yogurt and fruit anyway, I can make simple dinners if I don’t feel like cooking, which is a lot, frankly.

But then there are the days when it doesn’t seem easy and the single mom dilemma raises it’s ugly head. There are the days when work pressure is building up because I’ve let too much slide due to mama tasks.

Or because I’m tired of the relentlessness of motherhood and wish there was someone else to trade off with as I march around giving orders every morning and night. There are times when I just want to sleep and I can’t. Or I don’t feel like playing pretend and I snap because I have no one there to catch me.

There are the days when the house is a mess and the bills are piling up and the car needs to be taken to the mechanic and then the battery in the smoke alarm dies and there’s this beeping noise every 30 seconds and why oh why does it always happen in the middle of the night? And it’s all on me.

Those are the days when I become the mommy monster telling my daughter.

“Hurry up!”

Eat your breakfast!”

“Get dressed!”

“And for the love of god, no you can’t wear that shirt, it’s dirty!”

I know that married parents have difficulties too. I know that many parents will read the above statements and nod their heads in commiseration.

But it’s not just the daily frustrations that are hard. Because I know those are hard on all parents whether there are just one or two. But it’s also the forcing down her throat the fact that she’s the product of two single parents and she must sacrifice her home space.

There are the weekends when she wants to stay at home with me on the days she supposed to spend with her dad. Kids with married parents don’t have to bounce back and forth between two homes. They get to choose when or if they are going to spend the night at another person’s house. When they leave for an outing with one parent, they know that they will see the other parent again, later in the day.

My daughter doesn’t get that. She has this black and white, all-or-nothing decision between which parent she is with. I can tell that she craves, desperately, time with all of us together as a family.

Family is ridiculously important to her. She asks for group hugs. She notices when we are doing something really simple together, like hand-washing or teeth brushing.

“Lets doing family washing together!” she’ll say brightly and thoroughly enjoy that tiny little moment of connection inside our inner group of related genes.

Those are the bright moments inside parenting, but underneath the core of that is the message that her family is broken. And she is trying to find ways to mend it.

When she complains about having to go to her dad’s house, I know that she wants to see him, but she wants it to be under the same roof. She knows that when she’s with him, she’s not with me.

I have found myself saying more and more lately, “This is not negotiable,” about many things. She doesn’t get a choice in many important matters because she lives in two families who are separate.

And I wonder just what message I’m sending. I’ve spent a lot of time telling her that her feelings matter and giving her choices. Then I tell her that she doesn’t have a choice in certain matters. Big matters. Matters that will affect her the rest of her life.

As an attachment parent I tell myself that what my daughter wants is important. She gets to choose.

But in reality, there are moments when she doesn’t get to choose and it seemingly boils down to the fact that I’m a single mom.

I tell myself if I were married, I wouldn’t have to send my daughter to preschool. I’d be able to stay home with her for the full five years. I wouldn’t have to stay up late at night working when I could be vegging on the couch. Or just falling asleep with her and getting a good night’s rest so I would have the energy to play kiddie games all day long.

But the reality of it is that she doesn’t have choices in many of these matters because I do have to work. And she does have to spend time with her dad. And I need time to get things done when she’s not here because I am the only adult in the home.

So I ask myself sometimes, “Did I make the right decision, parenting her this way?” Because it’s a paradox, this life I lead of letting my daughter in on many decisions about how to be in the world when the inside of my brain is screaming, “Oh, please pick the thing that will make our lives easier!”

I can’t always keep her home when she asks to stay. And even though I give her choices, they aren’t always the ones she wants. So, is it really a choice?