The Main Line Mom

Lost in Translation

2011-02-08T12:58:00.015-05:00

I read a blurb this morning written about my blog. Well, actually is was less about the content of my blog and more about the absence of my blog: "(she) has been taking a short break from her blog as she enjoys time with her family". Until I read that this morning, I hadn't realized how long it had been since my last post. Has it really been over a month? I knew time was ticking away, but I didn't really think anyone would notice. I have been enjoying my family and I lost the time to translate that into words.

I meant to blog about our first ski trip of the season in January. I had so many proud moments watching my 4 year old make his way down the bunny slope for the first time. The scene was exactly how I remembered learning; one parent straddling and the other parent skiing backwards to catch when that little push is finally given. Despite my own memories, I didn't start off teaching him that day with high hopes. My shouts of "pizza, pizza, bigger slice" seemed futile at times. But after a whole lot of "I can't", I saw a knowing smile cross his face when he realized that he not only can, he did. And as he did ski down that slope multiple times, my 7 year old was skiing with his teenage cousin, mastering more advanced slopes somewhere else on the mountain. How do you translate that feeling when you see your kids learn and begin to love something that you have loved for decades? Before I could really decide, we were off to Mexico.

Our annual winter trip to someplace warm took us to Cancun this year. Again, I had a lot I meant to share. This was the first vacation with our kids where we left the resort to explore unguided. Unplanned exploring might just be another love of my husband and mine that we are now inflicting on our children. Drug war or not, we rented a car and drove through Quintana Roo exploring Mayan ruins. After I got past the fact that we might no longer be candidates for parents of the year, we created a really great road-trip with our kids. From the moment we got into our little rental car and my kids discovered that the strange handle on the door was for the window, I knew this was going to be a day of discovery. In addition to antiquated manual windows and locks, they also learned about an ancient culture they had never heard of before. We didn't just look at a bunch of old stones, we got a chance to climb Nohoch Mul. And as a reward for being such troopers, spending a long day in a car with only Mexican radio, I even let them have their very first Coca-Cola. They are now part of the pure sugar Mexican Coke cult, but what the heck, we had already taken ourselves out of the running for any parenting awards when we drove out of the resort that morning without a map.

Enjoying my kids, has been well, enjoyable. So, if anyone noticed or cared, I guess I did take a break from blogging about my life with my kids because I got a little busy living my life with my kids. I plan to keep blogging when I can between more skiing, travel, and life with kids; and I do want to keep blogging if for nothing else, to not lose the translation of those moments for my kids to read about later.

Gym Class

2011-01-04T20:15:00.015-05:00

With the first week of the new year, I joined all the other newly resolved people back at the gym. I had my share of sports related injuries in 2010 and I'm glad to be starting 2011 healthy, having just been cleared to resume all activities. But even with the memory of those frustrating injuries still fresh in my mind, I'm still finding it hard to really enjoy being at the gym. I keep trying to remind myself of a motivational mantra I pulled from Runner's World (May 2010, "Feeling Lucky?") "I don't have to run, I get to run". But today into the second set of "frog kicks" (don't even ask) in my boot-camp class, I was having trouble feeling like this was what I really wanted to be doing. And by the fourth interval of jumping rope, I was wondering when I developed this deep hatred for the jump rope? When did gym class stop being fun? I might have been 10, but the last time I jumped rope, I thought it was fun.

As my friend behind me was whaling, "Oh Lord, enough with the jump rope", the instructor reminded us that in another 30 minutes we could go home and enjoy a nice hot shower. That was exactly what I wanted to be doing right then, but I couldn't help think that my kids would hands down prefer jumping rope, or any other exhausting activity, over taking a shower. And my kids would have loved the frog jumps and donkey kicks, and not just for the names.

If you ask my 7 year old what his favorite class is in school, he'll answer Gym or Recess. I've watched him on the playground, sprinting around the field for 20 minutes straight playing Ga-Ga with his friends. This is his idea of fun and there is nothing he would rather be doing during those 20 minutes. If you give either of my boys a wide-open gym to run in, they are in Heaven. Sometimes I let them run around the empty gym at our church and I always have to drag them out of there when its time to leave. They are panting, out of breath, and dripping with sweat, but they fight with me every time for "just a few more minutes". I can assure you that I have never asked my boot-camp instructor for "just a few more minutes". And when our class ran long today, my friend asked, "Aren't we done yet?"

So, at what point in my life did exercise stop being pure fun? When did I no longer see a wide open space and want to just run? I still really enjoy a day of hiking or skiing, and there are days where I do crave a really long run, but for the most part, exercise has become something that I "want" to do because I "need" to do it. I do the kick-boxing and the boot-camps because I feel good afterwards, not because I'm particularly having a blast during the classes. I can honestly say my kids do have a blast when moving to the point of exhaustion.

Can you imagine how productive, not to mention how fit we would be as adults if we held onto that energy we had as kids? Its not really fair considering that most of us have gained all the responsibilities of adults, but lost that child-like energy. If only we could have bottled up that energy before we left childhood and could crack it open whenever we needed as adults. After tennis the other day, my 7 year old came running up to me so excited that they "got to do suicides" at the end of his clinic. I want that excited energy. I want to really believe my mantra. I want to feel like I "get" to do frog kicks, not just "have" to do them. I could use a bottle of that.

Bossa Mama

2010-12-21T06:31:00.000-05:00

The Brazilian style of music "Bossa Nova" can literally be translated into English as "new trend". If you're not familiar with the loungy style made popular in the late 1950's, think "The Girl from Impanema", but a newer trend in the soft, smooth Bossa Nova music is to cover harder, rougher bands. My sister-in-law introduced me to this genre a while back and now I have albums like "Bossa N Roses" and "Bossa N Ramones" in my collection. I love music in the kitchen when I'm cooking and listening to a lounge-lizard version of "Welcome to the Jungle" or "Used to Love Her" just makes me smile.

The first day I had the music in my repertoire, my kids were at the kitchen table for all of five seconds before they identified the Bossa Nova styled lyrics as Guns N' Roses. And five seconds later they were singing along. Astonishing. The songs in Bossa Nova form are almost unrecognizable unless you really pay attention to the lyrics. That would mean that my kids not only heard the music, which through extensive testing I have proven their hearing is quite perfect, but they actually listened, a skill for them I had almost given up on.

If my kids could register the mellow Bossa Nova lyrics, is it possible my kids could listen to me without me yelling? Could I actually get a response from them by just speaking to them, instead of yelling? The yelling in my house has gotten a little out of control. I'm at a point where no one listens to me unless I'm raising my voice, and I often don't bother with a calm voice and skip right to yelling to save time. But maybe its not too late. Maybe I could start a new trend in our house. It would be so much nicer to start the day calmly asking my children to get their shoes and coats on for school. And I wouldn't be hoarse before 9am.

My new mom trend started this week. Monday morning I sweetly called to my 7 year old giving him a warning that we needed to leave for the school bus soon. I followed that up five minutes later with calm speaking voice instructions to get his shoes on. Both times my son acknowledged that he heard me, but he still didn't listen. With two minutes to spare before the bus would be rolling up, I found myself yelling and he finally came running to the door to put his shoes on and grab his bag and coat. As he was tearing down the driveway trying to put his coat on while holding his back-pack, I realized this new trend is not really going to work. In Brazil, "bossa" can also be defined as a natural ability; you can do something with "bossa". I clearly do not have the bossa to herd my children with a calm voice. I'm going to keep trying to reduce my volume, but the fact is, my voice is just background music for them.

Well Played

2010-12-17T20:59:00.002-05:00

Are personality traits like "forgetfulness" and "lateness" genetic? I'm afraid they are and my oldest son is displaying these characteristics, just like his father. To sum it up: my husband is physically incapable of arriving anywhere on time and when he does get there, he has undoubtedly forgotten at least one thing. My 7 year old is following in his footsteps.

Last Monday I picked my son up from school like I do every Monday so we can get to his tennis lesson on time after school. I waited 10 minutes after the final bell of the day for him to finally show up at the door. He had no explanation for why he was so late other than he had to walk from his classroom and it "took him awhile". It took 10 minutes longer than usual, but for no reason. As a result, we were late for tennis and missed the first 10 minutes of the clinic. When we got home from tennis and I was unpacking his school bag, I discovered he had left his lunch box and thermos at school. I wasn't all that surprised, but I was annoyed.

When my husband came home, I mentioned to him that our 7 year old had "your kind of day" today. I went on to explain that first he was late leaving school which made him late for tennis, and then he also left his lunch box at school and he's not sure where. My husband laughed and asked, "Did you yell at him?" I admitted that I may have, I was annoyed. To which my husband added, "Good, then he had the full experience of one of my days". Touche. Well played.

Walking Late

2010-12-04T11:53:00.005-05:00

I have one true thing that I can't stand about my husband. Just one, but it drives me crazy. He's chronically late. And his lateness makes me late, which drives me further insane. Before I was part of "we", I was always on time. Now we can't ever seem to be anywhere on time and I blame him. For him, five minutes late is "on-time" and is usually cause for celebration. I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for me reminding him its time to leave, he would never actually leave. Its become his signature; he's always late.

Its no surprise that my best friend is also notoriously late. I seem to attract late people. My best friend is at least predictable though. I can firmly count on an hour past whatever time she swears she will be there. And I've learned that when she calls me from "Oaks" on her way, she is really just pulling out of her driveway, still a good 20 minutes from the Oaks exit. But, she does always call while I'm waiting for her. In fact, she usually calls several times to let me know while I'm waiting that she's still not there - Thanks. My husband does the same thing to me when I'm waiting for him. His patented move is to call me when he should be arriving to tell me that he hasn't left yet.

But that's the thing. All this mobile technology at our fingertips allows people to no longer really care that they're late. They can always just call or text that there's a delay. We've all done it in those scenarios where the unexpected happens and we're held up. But I think chronically late people take advantage of being able to communicate that they're late. There's no sense of urgency that they are keeping someone waiting. I've never seen my husband or my best friend rush because they were running late. Its more like they are just walking late, and they'll call ahead to let you know that they won't be there on time. Apparently in the minds of tardy people, a text or phone call telling you they are late is as good as being on time.

I read an article recently in The Wall Street Journal, "Sick of This Text: 'Sorry, I'm Late'". I was happy to see that finally someone else identified a problem here. But the article was of little help to people on the waiting end of chronic lateness. According to the article, my husband and my best friend both have "T.E.D." - Time Estimation Disorder. But there's little treatment for this affliction, other than better planning. My husband read the article and recognized that he has this disorder, but has not attempted any of the suggested tips. The article also listed "Coping Strategies" for those of us waiting for late people. Unfortunately, I've already tried most of these strategies. I've lied about the start time and I've also just plain left without my late people. But to no avail, late people just don't see a real reason to try to change. The only "Coping Strategy" left is to just love them, flaws and all. Because they will still walk in whenever they get there. And in the mind of a late person, if they got the message to you on time that they are late, are they really late?

Everything but the Kitchen Sink

2010-11-25T00:00:00.016-05:00

I'm hosting Thanksgiving this year. I love hosting anything, period. And I'm the type of host, drink in hand, that is ready 30 minutes before you walk through the door. Its the day before Thanksgiving and I am ready, or I was on my way to being ready. The table is set, the flowers are arranged, the sides are prepped, and the turkeys are chilling. I have everything, but the kitchen sink. My kitchen sink stopped functioning.

In the middle of the afternoon today while preparing the sweet potatoes and corn bread, the sink stopped draining. I immediately texted my husband, "Who should I call?". His response was, "I'll come home early and fix it". An hour later, as the pile of dirty pots and pans was increasing and the standing water level in the sink was not decreasing, I texted him again with my fear that we might need to call someone else and its the night before a big holiday. I was met with, "I'll come home now". He came home from work early, but 8 hours later I was still facing the very real possibility of hosting Thanksgiving without a kitchen sink.

My husband is pretty handy. For a business minded, computer nerd, he handles most of our simple carpentry, electrical, and plumbing work around our house. We don't call "people" to fix things until my husband has at least tried first. And he's very good at fixing things, most of the time. But, there are the occasions where my husband has been known to cause a bigger problem while trying to fix a smaller one. Tonight he took apart the kitchen sink pipes and found a clog much lower in the system than he could get to. We did call a drain professional who came out in the evening to snake the drain and it seemed that the problem was solved. But when my husband put the pipes back together they started leaking under the sink. Apparently when my husband was "diagnosing" the original problem, he "may" have put a hole in a pipe. Let me just say this is not the first time he has unintentionally put a hole in a water pipe. But tonight there are no stores open for parts for him to replace the pipe, and they won't be open again until after the holiday. He just threw a plumbers wrench in my plans for being calm and prepared for Thanksgiving.

At midnight, after much arguing about who I really should have called this afternoon (he still maintains he was the right call), he finally informed me that the sink is "functional". Functional, meaning that I can use it, but the pipes are held together with plumbers putty and there is a mixing bowl and bath towel under the sink. We just need it to hold until after dinner and hopefully it will. I had no idea this morning that what I would be most thankful for this holiday is a working kitchen sink, but its officially Thanksgiving and I am.

Check Yourself

2010-11-21T16:02:00.012-05:00

Neither of my kids naps anymore. And despite having a designated bench on every level of my house, neither of my kids have been put in a "time-out" in a long time. But my 7 year old is having one of those weekends where he's been possessed by some kind of monster. There's been a lot of excitement in our house with a new cousin being born and preparing to host Thanksgiving. The kids are excited and maybe a little off-kilter, but my 7 year old is out of control. I've been counting the hours until he goes back to school on Monday - since Friday afternoon. We still have 14 hours.

I've always sent my kids for a nap, quiet time, or a time-out for them to gain a little control over their behavior. But telling my "too cool" 7 year old that he needs to take a nap, or that he needs to sit on the time-out bench is only met with more monster growls. I know he thinks he's getting too old for these tactics, but I also know that he needs some alone time to check himself. After his latest misstep this afternoon, I sent him to his room and told him to, "Go check yourself before you wreck yourself". He looked at me like he might have had something to say, but instead just smiled and went upstairs to his room. He got the message that he needed some alone time without any complaints. Its essentially the same message as "take a time-out", but apparently in a language a too old, too cool 7 year old will accept. I wonder if he also got the message after falling asleep for 2 hours, that he's not too old to nap?

The Poison Apple

2010-11-11T13:15:00.023-05:00

Apple is poisoning my marriage. My husband, who has never worshiped at the temple of Steve Jobs, surprisingly came home this week with an iPad. He's a technology guy, but he's always despised the Apple culture. And now suddenly, I think I have a convert on my hands - I'm not happy about it. Our marriage is pretty strong, but this device might just do us in.

I've dealt with my husband's ongoing Blackberry addiction for years. Because of the Blackberry we have rules in our house to keep the "beeple-bopping" to a minimum. You don't walk in the house texting/emailing, you don't resume prior texting/emailing until you have greeted everyone in the room, and you don't stand at the kitchen counter texting/emailing while life goes on around you. The kitchen is a strict no "beeple-bopping" zone. My husband, despite his long term addictive relationship with his Blackberry, has adhered to the house rules. He gets that his family doesn't want to watch him stand around checking emails. When he's home, he's on our time.

But this new piece of technology has entered into our house and the rules have been forgotten - I'm starting to despise it. The iPad has been here for just two days and it has already affected all of us. The first morning the dog didn't get his walk because my husband was too busy playing with his new toy before work. After work that day, I found my husband standing at the kitchen counter, in complete violation of the rules, glued to his iPad screen. He hadn't even taken his coat off yet. That evening I couldn't pry all three of my boys away from its alluring screen, despite it being homework and bath time. And after the kids went to bed, my husband brought his new friend to our evening ritual of sitting together catching up with a glass of wine - I don't like the threesome. After being thoroughly annoyed by him only wanting to talk about the iPad, I finally left and went to bed alone. I got up later and I'm pretty sure I caught him curled up on the couch asleep with the iPad. I'm giving this new thing a week to lose its novelty. After that its me or the iPad. Only one of us, the one without an apple imprinted on them, will have full reign of the house; unless my husband wants to keep sleeping on the couch.

Adoption Story

2010-11-04T22:07:00.006-04:00

Have you ever considered what your kids tell the outside world about you? You know, the things kids say at school when you're not there. We all have arguments or mishaps at home that we think we're keeping in the family, but then we send our kids off to school or a friend's house and stories get told. Kids don't have filters.

Our preschool director always starts off Parents' Night by assuring us that they only believe half of what is said around the snack table, as she hopes we will do the same at the dinner table. Kids have healthy imaginations and a love for story telling. They also have an eerily keen sense of hearing when they want to and a propensity for repeating what they've heard.

In the preschool car line awhile back, my older son's teacher popped her head in the front of the car to share a funny story from the day. The word "adopted" had come up during class and she had asked if anyone knew what the word meant. One little girl immediately raised her hand. She confidently shared that "adopted" is what happens when your family no longer wants you; they give you to another family. Huh, I wonder if there were some threats made recently in that household? But concerning my son, the teacher told me that when the little girl gave her definition, my son's jaw dropped. And he then became visibly upset at the idea of "adoption". I didn't think I had ever used that threat on him; its a good one, but kind of harsh. But this story definitely had me thinking back through his week long wave of bad behavior. What exactly did I say to him when none of my usual punishments were working? Whatever you say to your kids, you have to be okay with it being broadcast to the public, because kids really will say the darndest things.

Old Crowe Parenting Show

2010-10-30T15:11:00.023-04:00

Do you remember a time, way back before you had kids, when you promised yourself you would be a "cool" parent? You would be different. You were never going to become a dull boring grown-up just because you had kids. I remember briefly getting to know a friend's parents in college and thinking they were the coolest parents I'd ever met. They liked The Grateful Dead and by the time I met them, had spent years following their music. In my 20 year old mind, they were the coolest. I didn't think they were cool just because they liked The Dead, because I'm not sure I really liked The Dead then, but rather because this part of them didn't change just because they became parents. In other words, not only did they not subscribe to raising their child listening to Raffi, but they had some cool stories involving music while parenting. And as parents, I'm pretty sure they influenced my friend in a positive way with their taste in music.

I saw The Black Crowes last night at the same venue my husband and I first saw them back in high-school, with the same group of friends we've seen most of their shows with. And today I'm asking myself if I kept my promise. Am I a cool parent? Two decades ago, when I started following a new band called The Black Crowes, I would have hoped that I would still be cool enough to follow them into parenthood. And although life changes in many ways when you start having kids, this part of my life has never changed. Reminiscing with my friends last night before the concert, counting into double digits the number of Crowes' shows we've seen, I think we've all carried this part of our cool over into this parenting show. And we've got the stories, even guitar picks, to back us up.

I'm not going to crow and say we're cool just because we go to concerts. Maybe we're not. But if we thought we were cool before we had kids, not much has changed. We've kept this part of our lives and even incorporated it into our parenting - our kids know The Crowes, even if a lot of the world doesn't. My kids first heard them live in utero, as I was trying not to breathe the air around me too deeply, and my friends' kids knew all their lyrics before graduating preschool. Despite my Crowe-loving friends and I all having kids now, we've seen the same number of shows since our kids were born as we did before. True, last night we all made that last train home, but there have been plenty of recent shows that mirrored the early tours. And I hope there will be many more. Whenever The Crowes come back from their hiatus, during which they will be spending time parenting their own kids, we'll pick up where we left off. It doesn't matter when it is, or even if we're all a bunch of old crows. Maybe our kids will even think we're cool enough to join us someday.

Living in Oblivion

2010-10-26T12:30:00.004-04:00

Is it wrong that I get most of my news from Facebook? When I had a career before kids, I used to start my day sitting in my office reading the news online, browsing around CNN, Yahoo, and ABC news sites. I certainly don't have the time to start my day like that now, but Facebook makes it easy with trending topics right there, updated constantly on my homepage, and available to view on my phone throughout the day. The downside of course is that you have to hope your pool of "friends" have newsworthy posts. I do have to scroll through the Farmville and "what my kid did today" posts to see some good topics, but they are there and easily accessible. And my "news" may be more biased to sports and entertainment popular culture than global events, but its better than being oblivious to anything outside of preschool and the first grade.

Before Facebook, I spent a good deal of my motherhood living in oblivion. Its pretty easy to opt out of the news outside of your house when very little of that seems to affect the children filled microcosm within. I just didn't care enough to spend any time seeking news. When my kids were little, my focus wasn't so much on the national economy, as it was on the economy of parenting; managing the constant feedings and diaper changes, and bartering for naps. Wars in distant places weren't forefront in my mind as much as my children beating on each other in the playroom; I guess I needed some peace here before I really wanted to think about peace on a larger scale. I openly admit there have been whole days, sometimes weeks, that I've been completely oblivious to any news outside of my door. But in my defense, I'm not a complete idiot, I've always caught up. I'm just usually a few days late in digesting the week's news.

I'm sure my husband thought I was becoming an idiot. That his Ivy League educated wife was choosing to live in a hole. He'd start off a conversation sarcastically saying, "You wouldn't know this because it was the headline news all day today, but . . ." He used to try to keep me current by circling articles in the paper for me to read and leaving them on the counter. And then he moved on to just dropping The Wall Street Journal in front of me on his way out the door saying, "Here, get smart". But the fact is, with Facebook I now know current events before he does. I knew Michael Jackson died within minutes of the press releasing the news, and I was the one who broke the news to my husband that McNabb was leaving the Eagles, his beloved Eagles. I didn't get this news from the AP, but rather FB. Amongst the daily horoscopes and gaming high scores, there are also mentions of earthquakes, floods, and trapped miners. Maybe its not quite right that I use Facebook as an actual news source, but it does seem to keep me informed and for now its better than no news at all. And now I get to say to my husband, "You wouldn't know this because you never check Facebook, but . . ."

The Power of the Nap

2010-10-19T20:01:00.000-04:00

Life has been busy since the start of school in September; long days, late nights, and busy weekends. I've been treading water, so to speak, for weeks now. But after weeks of over-extending myself on too little sleep, with no break in sight for weeks to come, I felt like I was going under a little. The treading was getting tiring and I felt like I was starting to drown. So, today I took myself out of the pool and took a nap.

That's right, a nap. I got the kids off to school and marched right back upstairs and back underneath the down comforter. By 9am this morning, I was back in bed for a much needed 3 hour nap. I did feel guilty at the idea and there was a lot of debate in my head this morning as to whether a nap was really acceptable, or whether I should just power on with the day. But in the end, the rainy weather was the winning point in favor of a nap; never mind another obvious point was that after only 3 hours into my day I was already physically out of power. I still felt guilty, but that lasted only minutes until I was sound asleep. I obviously was at a breaking point and my body needed a nap. Guilt gone and power restored.

So why don't we take more naps? Why aren't grown-up naps more accepted in our culture? Other countries and cultures have mid-day breaks and siestas. But I've only ever napped before when I've been deathly ill. Why wait until we are so beat down? We beg, plead, and force our kids to nap. We know our children physically need a nap when they are cranky and melting, and we see the restorative powers of a good nap. I was melting this morning and what I needed was a good nap. And if I put off getting that needed sleep any longer, I probably would be deathly ill by the end of the week. So, I'm not only admitting that I napped today, but I'm advertising it. Naps are a powerful thing and more people should be doing it.

The 7 Year Itch

2010-10-09T21:39:00.006-04:00

Today is my baby's birthday. Seven years ago today, I became a mom for the first time to the most perfect little baby boy. Perfect little face, perfect little body, and perfect little skin. What I didn't know seven years ago was that his perfect baby skin would one day turn on him. By a year old my son was diagnosed with eczema and although its not constant, seven years later we are still dealing with seasonal flares and sensitive skin.

Two weeks ago, with the start of Fall, my son had his usual eczema flare. And as with each flare he's ever had, there were red patches on the back of his legs, uncomfortable itching, and crying. Its so hard as a mother to see my perfect child in tears dealing with his body that isn't quite perfect. He cries and he yells because he's so angry that his skin does this. He tells me he hates his skin and he wishes he had different skin. What do I say to him? And how can I not feel responsible? I did make him after all. But I don't have any answers for why this is happening to him. No one else in our family has eczema and he has no food allergies or asthma. I just want to tell him that "I'm sorry", but that doesn't fix it and it doesn't stop his itch.

This week his sensitive skin reacted to something he came in contact with. We still don't know what it was. Wednesday the rash started and by Friday he was covered head to toe with itchy red bumps. It was on his scalp, in his ears, and even in his belly button. Happy Birthday. The poor kid couldn't sleep because even Benadryl wouldn't touch this beast. His doctor couldn't firmly diagnose the cause, but he's not contagious. Great, but he's still itching. He's had 7 years of an itch. Every year I hope that he will finally outgrow this, but this week has proven we are still very much dealing with this. And I think after 7 years, I'm no longer dealing with his pain all that well; we're both in pain. I just want his skin to be normal. I guess that's my birthday wish for him this year. For now, I'm smattering him with kisses and Aquaphor, and feeding him birthday cake with a side of Prednisone. I'm hoping the rash will fade soon, but each one of these flares leaves a scar on me.

Its Not Just a Title

2010-09-25T14:49:00.004-04:00

There was quite a bit of buzz this summer about the NY Magazine article "All Joy and No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting". When I first read the title, I empathized. What parent, myself included, hasn't wondered at some point, "Why is this not fun?" I've been there. I was there by myself this weekend when my husband was away for a "boys weekend". There being those moments that you want to be anywhere but here with your fighting, whining, crying kids. But then I read the article and I got annoyed. I wasn't annoyed completely by the author, there are a lot of valid points about the evolution of parenting, but I was annoyed by the complaints about the grunt work of parenting. The article mentions research showing "parents are not happier than their childless peers". But, is childbearing supposed to automatically make us happy? I mean, is it really advertised as fun? The article says, "Most people assume that having children will make them happier." I certainly did not assume that. I don't remember anyone ever telling me that parenting was going to be easy, let alone fun.

Being a parent definitely has its rewarding moments and there are times that I do feel a blissful happiness staring into those little faces. But, I'll be honest, there have been stretches of time where its rough. There's different stages with kids and each stage brings new positives and negatives; you kind of have to just roll with it. Unfortunately, in our progressive, self-help, self-improving society, we have trouble with things not always being dreamy. We've become so accustomed to being pro-active problem solvers that we're no longer willing to accept anything less than perfect. We've managed to take the role of parenting, which has been around literally forever, and created an unrealistic unattainable expectation for today's parents. Becoming parents is no longer just human nature keeping the species alive. It can now be viewed as a choice, not a necessity; and if you chose to do something, shouldn't you expect it to make you happy? It then becomes upsetting and I guess disappointing when its not perfect. The idea of parenting has evolved and the expectations of parenting have changed.

If you've read the article, you know it touches on several different points about why parents are feeling unhappy today. One brilliant surveyor found that women ranked "childcare" very low on a list of pleasurable things to do; choices that included, among others, exercising, napping, and shopping. Is it really odd that a tired mother when asked might rank a nap higher than childcare? Is that not an expected answer? Besides changing what we expect to feel like as parents, we've also changed how we parent and one directly correlates to the other. Our generation spends an exhausting amount of our time on our kids, fundamentally changing how parents raise children. We spend all of our time shaping our children into perfectly well-rounded individuals, grooming them for their future, that we leave very little time for ourselves. And then we feel guilty for wanting to take a nap. Where did this expectation come from that we as parents shouldn't want to do anything for ourselves? Do our increased sacrifices for our children make us better parents, or just tired unhappy people?

Regardless of how parenting has evolved, one thing remains the same: its not just a title. Its a responsibility, its a job, and it always has been and always will be work. There is joy and there is happiness, but as with any job, it can't be expected to be fun all the time. Maybe instead of complaining about the unhappy daily work of parenting, this is a time to power up that activism. Take the onus of parental happiness off of our children and do something for ourselves. Our own impossible expectations are what is making us unhappy. Its okay to find parenting challenging and it is definitely okay to carve out some time for yourself. That title "parent", entitles you to a break sometimes.

Mr. September

2010-09-15T21:05:00.015-04:00

So we're back here again, this time of year again. And no, I don't mean back to school. Towards the end of the summer, the Phillies started doing what they now seem to do towards the end of every summer; they started playing well, really well. After one of those wins, my husband turned to me and said, "You know what this means, right? You can count me out for September". Right. So we're back here again. Here, where almost every night is game night and my husband belongs to Mr. September, not to me. Where he has way more time for his team than for me. Where he hears every word the announcers say, and zero of what I say. I get it, but it seems like we just left here in June when we said good-bye to Lord Stanley's Cup.

Don't get me wrong, I am a Phillies Phan. And I truly am a Philadelphia fan. I would never dream of rooting for another city's team, even when I lived there for years and while they made it to the World Series - sorry Giants. But really, I have to ask, does my husband really think he has any impact on the team by watching every second of every game? Does he really think the Phillies won the World Series because he watched the same TV, from the same spot, on the same couch, wearing the same shirt for each win? I already know the answer to this, and that is the root of my complaint. Just like I'm certain none of the Philadelphia franchise teams can hear him cheering or swearing at them through the TV, they also don't even know he's watching. So really, I don't think they'd mind if he took his eyes off the game for one minute to actually listen to something I have to say.

But, I know how this goes. Its September and the Phillies are ahead. I also know how this story should go, and unfortunately for me, my husband should have added, "You can also count me out for October". And then I'm sure we'll see where the Eagles are.

Island Time

2010-09-08T09:27:00.022-04:00

School started back up this week for both of my kids. Friends asked me if I was sad to put my 6 year old on the bus and drop my 4 year old off for his last year of preschool. Yes I was sad, but not because they are a year older. I had that minor break-down last fall when my first baby started Kindergarten and I'm sure I'll have another slightly bigger break-down next year when my last baby gets on the bus. This year my sadness came from nothing more than summer ending. My kids were excited to go back to school, I was not. I was pleading with summer to last just a little longer.

I experimented this summer vacation with just hanging out with my kids and not putting them in any camps. And while I'll be honest, not every day was a picnic, it was a vacation. I was relaxed. What I realized this week is that with the start of school, there is the return of that nervous feeling. I feel nervous when my kids aren't with me. I'm not nervous that something bad is going to happen to them at school, but I feel like something is missing. My kids are missing from my side, my sight. And I have a constant feeling that I need to check my phone in case the school is trying to reach me. Added to that is all of the information I need to keep in my head again for my two kids regarding their schools, activities, and generally very busy lives. I feel the weight of being a responsible adult; an adult responsible for other people.

I spent most of the month of August at the beach with my kids within eyesight. My phone spent most of August alone plugged into a wall. It was nice. I didn't need to worry about someone being able to reach me because everyone who needed me was within my view. It was nice to be able to just be with my kids and not have to answer to anyone except us. There was no bus schedule, no car line, and no morning school bell. It was just me and my kids on our own schedule, making our own rules. I didn't even need my phone for my calendar, my calendar was clear. I guess being on an island long enough actually does convert you to island time.

But my stress is back now; morning alarms are set, lunches are packed the night before, and my phone is always within reach. Its sad to be back to reality, but summers always come to an end. And every year I get reacquainted with sending my kids out into the world without me. When I got both kids to school on the first day, I took myself directly to the nail salon for a pedicure and then the coffee shop to catch up with a friend. I was no longer on island time, I had to watch the time for preschool pick-up, but it was a little therapy for my sadness and also a reminder to myself that back-to-school can't be all bad.

No Injured/Reserve List

2010-08-22T07:52:00.001-04:00

My husband hurts himself a lot. And that's kind of an understatement. It really is like I have a third child, who stubs his toe and cries about it on a weekly basis. My husband doesn't actually cry, but everything comes to a halt when he has a blister, or a splinter, or he stubs his toe. We are all made very aware that he has hurt himself and the world must come to a stop and focus on him. Can you imagine? I mean, can you imagine as a mom having anyone actually care that you stubbed your toe or have a splinter?

Four summers ago I had a wide-excision surgical biopsy on my right heel. If you do the math, four summers ago I also had an 8 week old infant. This surgery was by no means elective or planned and it came about rather suddenly. And just to be clear, an excision of any kind, wide or not, done on the heel of a foot is extremely painful. After the surgeon removed what she needed to, she recreated my heel by pulling the skin so tight across the sole of my foot it felt like I was trying to give birth through the bottom of my foot. It was by far the most excruciating pain I've ever felt, and I'm including in my frame of reference actually giving birth, twice.

And in all this pain, I found that the world did not stop for me; the world barely even noticed. My husband still went to work. The newborn still cried and still needed to be fed. And the potty-training 2 year old still peed all over the living-room floor. No one really noticed until my husband saw me trying to crawl up the stairs after a day of hopping around on one foot, crying like I was the baby. I was actually crying. I finally convinced him that this was debilitating pain and I needed my world to at least notice so I could heal. That night he got up for the 2am and 5am feedings and brought the baby to me so I didn't have to crawl down the hallway to the nursery. That was helpful, I guess, but I would have really liked to just sit that night out. Don't get me wrong, I was thankful for that bit of help and for anyone who stopped in during the day, but the world never paused during that time. The world just doesn't acknowledge that moms get hurt too. We just aren't allowed; its not in our contract. There's no Injured/Reserve List for moms. I'm always on the roster and expected to play when needed. Clearly my husband negotiated better terms for himself. Its much easier for him to just take himself out of the game.

Badge of Honor

2010-08-18T23:03:00.009-04:00

Something very scary happened to a close friend of mine this week. She is probably the first good friend I made when I moved here and over the years I've come to really admire her. She is a pretty petite mom of a litter of boys and she is strong, despite her stature. She has amazing strength in managing her boys. But as I was standing next to her in the ER holding her hand, I couldn't help but notice how small she is. Her little frame was drowning in the baggy hospital gown and she looked weak and scared. As a non-working nurse, I felt helpless; she is my friend, not my patient. I had to keep making excuses to go "check on the boys", so she wouldn't see how weak I felt looking at her. And there were the boys.

In the next curtain over, there were her boys and mine camped out on a hospital bed together watching cartoons. It was a room full of boys and a room full of strength; not their actual testosterone filled strength, but rather the strength that they bring to us as their mothers. I don't like to define a mother by her children, but I'll make an exception. My friend is so much stronger than she looks because she is a mom to these big strong boys. Just the fact that she has boys, and multiple boys, is like having merit badges. When people see these boys around her, its like they see her merit badges and know what she has been through and will go through to be their mother. They see proof of her inner strength. I at least see that when I look at her. And the nurses at the hospital saw it too. As I was leaving to take the whole gang of boys out of the ER for a break, the nurse commented on how brave I was to take them all. I didn't feel brave, but I did feel strong. Being a mother is an honor, but it is something of merit as well. Even when I am feeling weak, I know that I am strong because I have my own boys, my badges, to remind me.

Not Your Mother's Swim Meet

2010-08-16T05:00:00.001-04:00

For anyone who did not grow up on the Main Line, I need to point out a discovery I made this summer: swim meets on the Main Line are different. This summer was my older son's first summer swimming for our Country Club's team, and my first experience with this particular league. I did not grow up on the Main Line, so to say the least, its a little different from what I remember as a kid swimming.

My husband and I both swam for summer swim teams and although we did not swim for the same swim club, we swam against each other and have very similar memories of those summers. For me, summer swim meets were a giant mass of kids running around a large field in the dark waiting for their heat to be called. It was parents lined up poolside in folding chairs from home, thermoses of iced-tea or lemonade at their flip-flop clad feet. It was Ellios pizza and Swedish fish from the snack bar, and a rice crispy treat or brownie for a quarter at the parent run bake sale table. There were soggy hot dogs and orange drink; and somewhere in that mass of kids there were always Pixy Sticks, Fun Dip, or packets of Jello for sugar highs. It was casual and there was no dress code. And it was fun, but I think more fun for me than for my mother sitting there waiting for my events.

So, last year when I took my son to watch a home meet against our rival club and we were told in advance that the dress code for that meet was "Madras Plaid", I had an inkling that this kind of summer swimming might be different. But I also assumed that the sea of people in resort attire and the big dinner buffet was because it was a special rivalry meet. I never expected the meet to look like this, and I never expected as a parent to have so much fun. My son found his friends and I found a neighbor to enjoy a glass of wine with while we cheered on her kids. My husband joined us for dinner and we stayed much later than I ever would have expected since I didn't even have a swimmer on the team then. I had no idea then that this is what every meet would be like.

At my son's first home meet this year, when a well dressed staffed member politely asked me to move my bag so they could set up the bar, I knew that my son's swim meets were never going to be like his mother's. I'm not complaining, but I am marveling at the difference. I like that we are now greeted by a table of complimentary iced-tea, lemonade, and Arnold Palmers at every meet. Chairs have been set up along the deck of the pool for parents and spectators. And, I will gladly move my bag to another chair so they can set up a poolside bar. I've yet to see any kids with Jello packets, but my son is excited to get a ticket for a soggy hot dog and an ice cream after he swims. While I am glad the hot dogs still make an appearance, I'm equally glad that the full course outdoor dinner buffet shows up for every home meet. For an outsider looking in seeing nicely dressed adults milling around linen covered tables, our swim meets don't look much different than a poolside dinner or cocktail party. And for anyone inside, it pretty much is a party. But why shouldn't it be a party? It is a summer evening and we are standing around a pool after all. My kids look forward to the swim meets, and to be honest, so do I. Who knew swim meets could be so much fun?

The Demise and Rise of Adventure

2010-08-06T09:58:00.014-04:00

I'm planning our family's first camping trip. I got a crazy idea earlier this summer that this would be the summer to initiate my kids into the world of hiking and camping. It seemed like a good idea; they are 6 and 4, out of diapers and on their way to being independent little people. They've shown some interest and I've been waiting for years to finally get back out there. My husband and I used to hike and camp quite a bit. We were pretty adventurous at times; hiking or snow-shoeing as many national parks as we could get to, driving our old Discovery on caravan trails in Hollister, and rafting the Gauley and Snake rivers. We spent most of our honeymoon hiking or off-roading our way around the islands of Hawaii. We were never crazy cliffhangers, but we had a good sense of adventure. And then we had kids.

One of our best and most amazing hikes was the Paintbrush/Cascade Canyon in the Tetons, almost exactly 8 years ago. It was a completely unplanned day of adventure. Sitting around breakfast that morning, my brother, my husband, and I made a last minute decision to day-hike a trail that some split into two days. By mid-morning we were on our way for an 8 hour, 18 mile hike crossing the Paintbrush Divide at an elevation of 10,700 feet. Looking back, that still remains one of the best experiences I've ever had and it was completely spur of the moment. Two years later we were hiking Olympic National Park, this time with a 9 month old in a back-pack. But something was definitely different; the feeding and sleeping schedule of a baby was killing our sense of adventure. We found ourselves saying, "Wouldn't it just be easier to take the shorter trail". Our sense of adventure was dying as our reality of parenthood was coming to life.

I packed away the camping gear, not being able to fathom a pack-n-play in a tent, but we continued to get out for day hikes here and there with our first son. Eventually he outgrew the backpack and we had another baby. We tried a little local hike when our kids were 3 and 1, and about 100 yards into the trail, my 3 year old announced that his legs "could not move another step". He refused to go on even with the promise of treats and we ended up carrying him back to the car. That's when the hiking boots got packed away with any last bit of adventure we might have had.

But realizing some of the things we gave up to raise our babies, has renewed some interest in adventure. I'm trying to resuscitate our sense of adventure. Maybe it didn't die, but just went dormant. Endangered, but not extinct. I hope so because I'm ready to dust off the gear and try again. I know it won't be the same as before kids; it can't be the same. My more mature parent-self now shudders at the thought that my younger-self took off on an 18 mile hike late in the morning with no plan for getting stuck on the trail past dark. Now my adventures require much more thought and planning, as evidenced by the large pile of equipment sitting in my garage waiting to be crammed into the car. I'm still not exactly sure how this camping trip is going to go, but its a start. And good or bad, it will be an adventure.

Four Quarters

2010-08-03T08:06:00.005-04:00

Four quarters. That's it. That's the going rate for teeth in our house. And that value is up from the quarter per tooth I received as a child. My son lost two teeth this week in two days, keeping the Tooth Fairy very busy. My son seems happy enough with the dollar in change he keeps getting in exchange for his teeth, but he told me last night that someone in his class got $20 for their first tooth.

Parents, why would you do this? Why would you sabotage the rest of us by inflating the value of teeth? I mean, $20, really? What is a 6 year old going to do with $20? And that's just for the first tooth. There are 20 primary teeth that kids loose. I'm already going to be paying out $20 for teeth. I hope this other family is not actually paying $20 per tooth for all 20 teeth. Fortunately, my 6 year old is a true 6 year old and easily enamored by shiny coins. In his mind he got four shiny coins instead of just one dull piece of paper. And he has something he can actually do with his coins; put them in his piggy bank.

Shopping With Boys

2010-07-28T20:39:00.020-04:00

I don't enjoy shopping with my two boys. Whether it be for groceries, shoes, or clothes; its just not enjoyable. They're not keen on shopping and always behave badly. So I try to stay realistic about the situation, and I try to avoid the situation whenever I can. I'll go to the grocery store any time of day, any day of the week, as long as they don't have to go with me. And I'll order whatever I can online to keep them out of the mall. But my recent back-to-school online purchases didn't fit them and needed to be exchanged. Today I found myself at the mall, doing the thing I try to avoid, shopping with boys.

What's so bad about shopping with boys? Well, my last experience with them in a department store had me standing in the middle of a lingerie department with two little boys running through racks of bras screaming "look at all of the boob holders". They were much younger then, but since then they've developed a fascination and obsession with female mannequins. I have to keep a constant eye on them so they don't start undressing the mannequins. If there aren't any mannequins catching their eye, there is usually some sort of display that does and they inevitably knock it over. And if its a really boring store, they just start wrestling each other and annoying other shoppers. Quite simply, shopping with my boys is embarrassing and frustrating. I spend so much time telling them to stop misbehaving that I can't concentrate on anything else. I lack focus, I make bad decisions, and bad purchases; and then I need to do it all over again to make returns.

Today wasn't horrible though; I've seen worse. We got through Old Navy with my kids finding the right sizes, only knocking over one display, and only molesting one mannequin. And we made it through a couple of other stores without disaster. Its still shopping with boys though. But since we were already there, I made a quick stop in Victoria's Secret for their sale. I braced myself for disruptions from my boys and quick decisions for me. But, as I stood there deciding on what colors to choose, my boys stood at my side giving me their full attention, offering their suggestions. I was almost embarrassed that they were discussing thongs, except they were behaving so well. They stood there discussing between themselves whether mom should get the black leopard print or the pink zebra. After some serious thought, they finally compromised and decided on the pink leopard print. They actually helped me, even if it was slightly embarrassing and short-lived. But this is shopping with boys. While I was paying at the register, my 6 year old knocked over a make-up display and my 4 year old started up a conversation with a mannequin. That is when this episode of shopping with boys ended.

Cling Wrap

2010-07-13T11:25:00.021-04:00

What is it about the heat of the summer that makes kids clingy? Our area has been enduring a heat wave over the past week with humid temperatures close to 100 F. Personal space is huge in heat like this, but my kids and my dog seem to need to be closer to me than ever before. A decrease in humidity usually increases static cling, but apparently an increase in humidity turns my entourage into cling wrap.

The dog decided this week that I actually am his best friend and he wouldn't leave my side. He tightly followed me around the house, his fur sticking to my legs. And if I sat down, he was right there to pant his hot sticky breath on me. I couldn't turn around without tripping on my 4 year old, who was also clinging. The kid could not get any closer without getting back inside. And my 6 year old decided in the heat that it was cool again to hug his mom. And when I say "hug", what I really mean is hang from my neck. Its just too hot for this nonsense.

Just short of carrying around a bottle of Static Guard, I did find something to break the cling. Just like true static cling, water seems to break it. The only place I found that I could get any peace, was in the pool. Generally, I'm more of a side spectator; at most maybe a leg dangler. But I found that when I got in the pool, my kids dispersed like a school of startled fish. We threw the ball back and forth, but they kept their distance and I maintained a nice radius of personal space. It was like they were afraid to come too close to mom when she's wet. My 4 year old kept marveling at the fact that I put my head all the way under. Maybe I scared them? Whatever the reason, I'm glad I broke the cling, even if just for a couple of hours. Further proof of my theory on water breaking mammal cling: its raining today, I've received zero hugs, and I haven't seen the dog in hours.

Herding Cats

2010-07-02T15:05:00.000-04:00

This past week was Vacation Bible Camp at our church and I think I am still recovering. I've helped with this camp almost every year since we moved here and every year its a great week, but tiring. I enjoy volunteering and its not a hard job, but it is exhausting. Every year it puzzles me more and more why this camp kicks my ass. It's 3 hours a day for a week. Just 3 hours a day. Three hours of me merely herding my assigned group of kids around from one activity to the next. It seems simple enough. But this is the one week each year where I actually need an afternoon nap and I'm falling asleep before 10pm. I don't get it.

During the school year when my preschooler was in school for just under 3 hours, I felt like I did far more exhausting things in that time period. I got groceries, went to the gym, and got a run in before picking my preschooler up. And then I continued on with my afternoon herding my two kids around without feeling like I got hit by a truck that morning. So, why is herding a few extra kids around a very structured camp for the morning so tough?

Someone at the camp last year used the term "herding cats", and I agree with this description. There were a few times throughout the week that I felt like all eight kids in my group were running in different directions away from where I wanted them to be. Cats don't come when you call them. Is this what its like for teachers every day? Are my kids' teachers herding cats every school day of the year? And if it is, is this what my kids' teachers feel like at the end of each day? I gave my kids' teachers a lot of credit before, but if this is their exhaustion at the end of every school day, then they are truly under-appreciated.

My Favorite Place

2010-06-17T09:38:00.015-04:00

I'm traveling with my husband this week without our kids. I've left my kids before, but never for this long and I'm already missing them. The thing is, I could go to fabulous places anywhere in the world, but I think my most favorite place in the whole world is a double bed with safety rails, covered in car and airplane sheets.

Every night I tuck each of my boys into bed. I lie there with them in their beds surrounded by their stuffed animals and monster truck shaped pillows, and it is delicious. If you have kids, you know exactly what I mean by "delicious"; there's no other way to describe your beautiful children, fresh from a bath in their cozy pajamas snuggling next to you. This is our good-night ritual. We lie there in the dark and talk about the day, we tickle, and we giggle. Our "good-nights" drag out and most nights its not their fault. Rarely is it them delaying their bedtime, but me wanting just one more kiss, just one more hug, just one more story from their day. And sometimes I linger too long and they fall asleep in my arms. Its my favorite place because its our place. Sometimes its all four of us reading together and its everything I need all in one place. I'm sure I'll be thinking about my favorite place every night while I'm out seeing the world. And I'll be looking forward to coming home because my whole world really just fits in one bed.

The Absent-Minded Professor

2010-06-10T18:45:00.000-04:00

I forgot to pick my son up from school today. There, I admit it, I'm publicly stating I was a little absent-minded. And, I'll admit its one of the most harmless, yet still horrifying things that can happen. He only had to wait 15 minutes for me, but its one of the worst feelings in the world; that second when you realize that you have no idea what time it is, followed by the sudden realization you are supposed to be someplace you are not. I usually have my stuff together and these types of moments are very rare for me, but they happen. I'm only comforted by the fact that one of my dear friends had the exact same scenario happen to her last year, so I'm not the only one.

Although my son was completely safe and absolutely unaffected by me showing up 15 minutes after school was finished, I was still horrified. What is so unsettling to me is that there was a period of time that I wasn't thinking about where my kids were. There was a span of minutes that seemed to just disappear. I was sitting in front of my laptop and was watching the time on the clock display in the lower right corner, but at some point it just stopped registering. What's funny is that I got immersed in a document I was working on regarding my kids, so they were on my mind, but I still lost track of them.

On my way to go fetch my son who was patiently waiting for me in the school office, I was thinking how strange it was to have lost track of him in my mind for any period of time. I'm not sure how many minutes I have spent since my kids were conceived where I haven't had them running through my mind. I'm always running a check when they are not right there holding my hand: where are they, are they safe, do I need to be doing something for them? Its like a loop that is always on in my brain while I'm awake, and probably while I'm asleep too. There was obviously a glitch in my system today, but it made me realize just how much of my time my kids consume, literally every second. That's a lot. So, although I do not profess making a habit of being absent-minded, I'm going to stop beating myself up for today's harmless episode.

Camp

2010-06-02T22:21:00.000-04:00

The school year is coming to a close and every conversation I have had recently has started off with, "So where are your kids going to camp?" The norm on the Main Line is to send your kids to day camp for part of the summer, if not the whole summer. So, I've been confusing everyone when I answer that my kids aren't really going to camp this year. My 4 year old is doing one week while my 6 year old is finishing school, but after July 1st, we have zero weekday plans. Yes, that's right, I have an entire summer pretty much unplanned. And for the one person that actually said to me, "Oh, I'm sorry", I did that on purpose.

Its not that I'm opposed to camp. We've done lots of camps in past summers and it does provide a nice structure and a respite from having the kids home all the time. And if you're a working parent, camp is necessary to replace school and keep the kids occupied. But, as a stay-at-home mom I am really craving a break from structure. I don't want to have to be anywhere. I'd really like to just sleep in when we're tired, go for a walk when we feel like it, and take some spur of the moment day-trips when the weather is great. Camp is too much like school - we're rushing around every morning trying to get out the door and in the evening my kids are too exhausted to stay up much past dinner. No, I'd rather deal with the possible scenario of quarreling kids for the possibility of lazy morning breakfasts on the patio and staying up late to catch lightening bugs. Those are some fond memories of my childhood summers, without camp. And honestly, I'll assume the risk of my kids annoying me and each other if it means I don't have to pack lunches or unpack back-packs all summer.

So yes, I've gotten a few crazy looks when I reveal my plan for the summer. And I fully acknowledge that I may actually be a little crazy after a full summer with my kids at home, but I'll take my chances. Its just a summer and summers go by fast. I read a quote once, "The only thing more fleeting than summer is childhood". I'm keeping that quote close to my heart this summer as I soak up my children.

A Wife

2010-05-28T10:52:00.000-04:00

I think I would like a wife. I don't mean in a Big Love polygamy or some other lesbian way, but I mean I need someone to help me while I am managing the constant responsibility of my family and household. Someone to help me take care of myself while I am taking care of everyone else. I have to give credit to a friend who jokingly said that she asks her husband every Christmas and birthday to get her a wife. Sadly, he's never gotten her one, but I really like her idea. And just this week I heard Oprah say that what moms really need are wives. If Oprah endorsed it, I think the idea is about to catch on.

I told my husband that I want a wife and he responded, "What you want is a personal assistant. You don't want a wife, trust me". Huh. That's funny, but I don't think just a personal assistant is going to do. A personal assistant could quit too easily when frustrated; there's not the same level of commitment. Only a wife can deal with an entire family yelling at her that they do not need jackets. And when that family later puts on the jackets that the wife brought anyway, she accepts that no one acknowledges that she was right or thanks her. Most assistants would have quit after the first day. I suppose I could quit too, but luckily for my husband, this wife puts up with the comments made under his breath about "nagging" when she is merely reminding him of everything he is forgetting. No, the key word here is "wife".

A lot of my responsibility falls under the "mom" job description, but a "wife" encompasses that. A wife has to keep track of and take care of all the kids, the actual children and the husband. Its all the details, the what's due and when. Its the what time and where. Its the remembering the jackets, drinks, hats, snacks, and sunscreen. I doubt I will ever actually get a wife to keep track of and take care of me, but I'm keeping the idea on my wish-list. It would be nice to just once show up somewhere without any thought and have everything that I need, even the things I didn't know I needed, there for me. I'd like to experience once what the rest of my family experiences on a daily basis.

The Hangover

2010-05-17T09:13:00.000-04:00

I'm in the midst of planning a GNO - a girls night out. I get together with my best friend once or twice a year to go out without husbands or kids. I'm not sure what's funnier: how far in advance we have to plan in order to get our schedules synced for a night out, or the fact that I will spend the majority of my big night out drinking water. Times have changed and club soda greatly outnumbers any other drinks I have in the course of an evening. But as one of my other friends put it so well, "It only takes one hangover with kids to make you NEVER want to do that again; its just not worth it".

So, true. After a night out, there's nothing quite like waking at 6am to your kids crying and realizing that your head is pounding and you're on duty. Or the wisdom that you really can't curl up in a ball in the corner of the couch; you will NOT be left alone. This is true wisdom; the kind that will reform you. As a parent, you're expected to be at a high functioning level at all times, regardless of how you feel. Not only is no one going to bring you a pizza and cheese fries in the morning, but your kids will expect you to be upright and feeding them breakfast. I learned early on, and with this golden knowledge guiding me, I now stick to a very strict drink limit. It only took me one time of parenting after spending the night at a concert to learn my lesson. Its just not worth it.

Any Given Sunday

2010-05-12T15:10:00.014-04:00

I proposed last year that Mother's Day should be a day to spend without the kids; a day for peace and pampering. So how did I spend my Mother's Day this year? At Disney World with my kids, my husband, my in-laws, and thousands of annoying people with double strollers pushing around tired whining kids. Yes, I know, I didn't follow through with my plan. But last spring shortly after Mother's Day, I struck a deal with my 3 year old. I told him I would take him to Disney World to meet Mickey Mouse if he would lose the diapers. He potty trained himself the following day, in one day, and then wanted to know when we were leaving. He's been a trooper and has patiently waited almost a year for us to fit this trip into our schedule. So that is how I ended up at Disney World on Mother's Day.

I guess I sacrificed my Mother's Day for this trip. And it was a trip that I wasn't really looking forward to. I don't like crowds, I don't like people pushing strollers in crowds, and I don't like being held hostage to amusement park lines and awful food. In addition, Disney World is like Vegas for kids; it seems to never sleep and neither do the kids. Kids are up at all hours, which is very different than my usual parenting style. As for Mother's Day, there was a quick gift exchange with my kids earlier in the week before we left for the airport, but that was the extent of us observing Mother's Day. Sunday morning I pulled out the cards I had packed and reminded my kids and my husband to wish my mother-in-law a Happy Mother's Day, but this didn't trigger any of them to wish me one, not even my husband.

I have to say though, I was pleasantly surprised by how much fun our trip was, especially since I didn't peg myself or my husband as "Disney people". But I guess Disney really is a magical place because I wasn't bothered by any issues. Maybe it was my husband conquering the FASTPASS system, or the fact that we walked so much I could have eaten my shoe. But maybe it was just seeing the joy and excitement through the eyes of my children that made it so magical. Nothing beats riding Thunder Mountain with your kids in the dark at 10:30pm (yes, we gave in to the Vegas style parenting). I turned around on our climb up the track to look at my 3 year old with Magic Kingdom lit up behind him. He had his little hands in the air, thumbs up, smiling, and ready to ride "no-hands" for the 6th or 7th time on this ride. With my equally excited 6 year old at my side, I knew then that this might actually be one of the best Mother's Days yet. A reminder that any given Sunday, not just Mother's Day, I have the privilege of viewing the world with them; and that can be pretty magical.

Just Do It

2010-04-28T14:49:00.000-04:00

I've got the jitters. I'm a little nervous about my first 10-miler coming up this weekend. I've trained and I think I'm more than ready to run the distance, but there's so much more that I hadn't thought about. There's so much more to running a race that I guess I didn't know about or didn't know I should care about. When you identify yourself as a novice runner, anyone who has ever run a race before becomes an expert and everyone has some piece of advice. Over the past month, I've received countless pieces of unsolicited advice on "philosophies" and "strategies" of running. I have had not just one, but many people tell me about how to start, how to finish, and what to do with my splits. All things that until now I hadn't given much thought to. I think the advice is bothering me more than the thought of running down Broad Street on Sunday.

I've quietly listened to the advice, I've digested the advice, and I've really given some thought to it. And the thought is making me nervous. So on Sunday, I'm going to abandon all of the advice. For me, the novice runner, I'm going to stick with my usual philosophy for running and start by putting one foot in front of the other. I'm going to stick my headphones in my ears and hope The Killers, Moe., and AC/DC will keep me going from there. My strategy will be as always: if it feels good, I'll run faster; if it hurts, I'll slow down. My splits won't change that, but as usual, I won't be wearing a watch and I won't be looking at the clocks and calculating splits in my head - I think I'll have enough going on. I'll let my chip tell me my time at the finish and I'll be comparing that time against myself and training runs, not against the other 29,000 people running on Sunday. Being a novice runner, this will be a PR. So although I am thankful for so many people wanting to share their pearls of running wisdom with me, I'm going to just do this. But, I will take any last minute advice on where to pee before the start, that's the kind of advice I could use.

A for Apathy

2010-04-21T18:23:00.016-04:00

My 3 year old has only two speeds: annoyingly slow and out-of-control fast. I'm actually not sure the kid knows how to just walk; he's either doing a geriatric shuffle or he's running wild. Today I had the pleasure of having my 3 year old accompany me to a last minute doctor's appointment. When we were leaving the exam room, my 3 year old came wildly running through the waiting room, caught his foot on a chair leg, went airborne, flipped, and rolled at least three times across the floor. When his momentum was finally stopped by an end table filled with magazines, he was stunned for a second and didn't move. I witnessed the whole event and started to walk calmly towards him through the crowd of waiting room gasps. When I looked up, all eyes were on him. Everyone was focused on my 3 year old on the floor and clearly very shocked - everyone except me.

Yes, I was on my way to help him up and make sure he was okay. But really, this was not a shocking event. He wasn't even crying. Within a few seconds he was making his way back up on his feet and was half-way standing before I even crossed the room to him. I brushed him off and said, "You okay? Let's go." An older woman sitting in the middle of his trajectory was not okay with my apparent apathy. She asked me three times, to the same answer of "Yes", if he was okay and wanted to get him an ice bag. But this accident was nothing new to me. I'm a mother of boys; my kids spend more time tripping and falling than they do walking.

As far as Type A personalities go, I've always been an A+, but my kids have mellowed me in certain respects. I have seen enough near disasters to now have a certain sense of apathy when I see them go down. Its not that I lack concern for them or their safety, but I am now pretty indifferent to the acts of them hurting themselves. I learned to suppress my horror when my first born was learning to crawl and started a collection of bruises across his forehead from bumping into furniture and doorjambs. That was just the start and the start of my detachment. I've seen them get kicked in the head by swings, trip into cement steps with their face, fall off bikes and scooters, fall down a full flight of stairs head-over-heels, and hop into the granite counter with their head. Sure, we've had a couple of trips to the ER, but for the most part my kids usually just pop back up and keep going. My 3 year old goes down so often, that we've become accustomed to shouting out "Man down". And 9 times out of 10 there are no tears. He trips, he gets up, and he keeps going. There's no time for or point in me getting upset; within seconds he's forgotten he ever was on the ground.

I've had other moms tell me that I'm "so calm". Maybe. Calm, apathetic, whatever you want to call it, I guess I am. The thing is, I can't stop them from being the way they are. They play hard and they fall often. I say "careful" a million times, I keep them out of dangerous situations, and I keep my hands on them when I should, but some of the worst falls have happened while they were standing right next to me, standing still. Sometimes they just fall out of nowhere; they trip on themselves. Apathy is my defense from going insane with worry about these everyday occurrences. I could make myself very sick thinking of all the ways they could hurt themselves in their lives. For just a brief second imagine two crazy boys in high school or college and you'll see where I'm coming from. So, I disengage and try to keep going. They fall, I pick them up, brush them off, and say "let's go". And we keep going.

Husband Material

2010-04-16T17:51:00.012-04:00

I picked my 3 year old up from preschool this afternoon after spending the morning getting my hair colored. When his teacher was putting him in the car he said to me, "Mom, something's different about your hair." His teacher chuckled as she fastened him into his seat and referred to him taking note of my hair as "good husband material". But after she shut the door, she didn't hear him say that he didn't like the color. I did more low-lights than my usual high-lights today and my 3 year old said to me, "Its too dark Mom, I don't like it, I like your hair lighter." That pretty much cancels out any points he would have earned as a husband noticing hair.

My 3 year old is very observant, but brutally honest when it comes to my appearance. If I come out of my room in the morning in any type of exercise clothing, he will flat-out tell me that I don't look good. He has no problem telling me, "I like you better in 'regular clothes'." I often need to promise that I will shower and change into my "regular clothes" before I pick him up from school. And he always notices on the days when I am still in my yoga pants or tennis skirt in the afternoon car-line. But just the same, he will immediately tell me how "pretty" I look when I try to look nice. And he has his favorites that he likes me to wear. He actually cheered, "I love when you wear that shirt", one day when I put on the jeans and pink shirt that he likes. He's 3; imagine how great this could be for someone when he's 30.

On the flip side, my 6 year old just plain lies. He tells me what he thinks I want to hear. Maybe that's good husband material? Except, I don't want to hear that I look pretty when I know I don't; it makes me not trust his opinion. It makes me question the validity of any positive feed-back I get from him on my appearance. When my 3 year old calls me out on not blowing out my hair and says, "Mom, your hair doesn't look good wavy", my 6 year old defends me and says, "Mom always looks pretty". I know that's not true and I think I'd prefer the truth. I have a hard time accepting my 6 year old's compliments when he tells me I look just as pretty in my pajama bottoms and ripped old t-shirt as I do when I actually try. This approach could seriously backfire on him when he's 30.

So, what is good husband material? Regarding my hair, when my husband came home tonight he said within a minute of seeing me, "Did you do something to your hair today? Its darker". He took note, but note that he didn't offer up a compliment or criticism. That's my husband's material. I didn't ask what he thought and he didn't comment any further. I can count on an honest answer if I want one, a glowing compliment if I really deserve one, but I can also escape unsolicited comments that I might not care to hear. My hair might be a little too dark, my husband knows that, but he also knows that I already know that too.

Running in Heels

2010-04-09T09:00:00.017-04:00

I've become a runner. I don't know exactly when it happened, but I think I've now logged enough miles to earn the right to call myself a "runner". My husband, who has a few marathons under his belt, realized I had joined his club when I started throwing around terms like "PR" and "bonk". And the last piece of jewelery he gave me was a pink Road ID bracelet; only a runner could appreciate that. But I think it really hit me when I was sitting around with my brother, also a marathoner who is now training for his first ultra, and we started comparing our runner's feet. I'm only wearing black toe nail polish these days to cover up the bruised toes I acquired breaking in new shoes. The fact that I had to replace my running shoes because they had over 500 miles on them is something new for me too. I guess I have been spending a lot of time running.

Running is my rehab. Its my time to think and its something I've come to really need. After my second child was born, I couldn't run. I couldn't get more than a quarter mile before my legs felt like they were being ripped out of my hip sockets. Baby number two was just too big for my little frame. My doctors said I had too much tendon and ligament damage from my pregnancy and it might take years to recover, if I fully recovered at all. I took it as a challenge; I wasn't going to let something like childbirth dictate what I could do, especially since I could run just fine after baby number one. Once I got clearance from my doctor that my legs would in fact NOT fall off if I kept running through the pain, that's exactly what I did. It took me 6 months, but I ran my first real 5K at Big Sur that year and it was pain free. And I've kept running pain free. Running has fixed all of my aches and pains.

Now I'm training for my first 10-miler. Two weeks ago when I was coming up a hill at mile 8 out of 10 and started to feel a little tightness in my lower calf, I naturally ran through the pain. When the pain didn't go away, I rested and iced for a week. But when I attempted a short run a week later, after a full week of no running, I felt the pulling again in the first mile. I was devastated; running has always fixed me. I got some advice from a physical therapist friend who told me that I needed to rest my Achilles. Apparently the best way to do that is to wear heels all the time - no flat shoes, no bare-feet. If heels were appropriate attire for all occasions, I would wear them anyway, so this was not too hard for me.

So, what am I wearing around the house these days? Heels - all the time. I do laundry, make the beds, wash the dog, and cook dinner in heels. My husband came home the other night to find me getting ready to go for a run, wearing a short running skirt, athletic socks, and 3 inch wedge heels. I was a vision. I don't run in heels, but I don't switch over to my running shoes until I am ready to head out the door. The heels seem to be working though. I ran another 8 this morning with only a tiny reminder of the tightness halfway through and it loosened up by the end. I am facing the reality, however, that although I had hoped this 10-miler would be a springboard to longer races, I should just be happy to finish it without injury. I am determined to finish it and will run it in heels if I have to.

Diet Coke and a Smile

2010-04-06T13:58:00.012-04:00

I'm back on the "stuff". Diet Coke that is. Its been about a year since my last Diet Coke. I used to drink a Diet Coke every afternoon, probably since college, but last year sometime I lost the taste for it. I gave up Diet Coke both times I was pregnant, and it was as hard as giving up sushi and alcohol; so losing the taste for it just out of nowhere was unexpected, but I was glad that I kicked the habit. But last week I was really tired and I grabbed from the Diet Coke stash we keep for babysitters. It tasted good, too good; and just like that I'm hooked again. Now I feel like it might be physically impossible for me to get through the day without an afternoon Diet Coke break.

What is it about Diet Coke? Why is it so good? I can't stand any other soda, a sip of regular Coke makes me sick, but there is something addictive about Diet Coke. Its like liquid crack. How much of the coca plant is really still in the recipe? I had one Diet Coke last week and every day since then, I look forward to my afternoon Diet Coke. Its the perfect "pick me up" for that tired hour around 3pm. It helps me get through the second half of the day with a smile - the after school, dinner, bath, bed routine with the kids.

Now that I'm back on the sauce, I noticed that the can I was drinking from had a red heart in support of women's heart health programs. It struck me as a little odd. I mean, let's face it, Diet Coke cannot be good for you, cocaine or not. But as I was enjoying my cool refreshing little bubbly delight, it occurred to me that this was an excellent way to raise awareness for heart disease risks in women. I don't know the statistics, but the majority of Diet Coke consumers have to be moms, also known as women. I know one mom who starts every day with at least one Diet Coke, just as others have a cup of coffee, and you dare not speak to her until she's popped the can open and had her first sip. I've heard other moms rate their day as a "one Diet Coke" or "two Diet Coke" day depending on the stress level of the day. Smart thinking Coca-Cola. They know that there are moms everywhere finding their smile again in their can of Diet Coke. They have us hooked, they might as well give us "the heart truth", as the can reads, while they're at it.

Spring Break 2010

2010-03-29T20:58:00.019-04:00

Today was the first day of my kids' spring break. Other than my kids not having school, not a whole lot was different about today; and I'm guessing this will hold true for the rest of the week. Spring break has a different meaning as an adult; it really doesn't mean anything. For most of us spring break ceases to exist after we've finished school. As a parent, it may reappear on your kids' schedule, but what does it really mean for you? It may mean taking off from work and obligations to travel with the kids, or just being stuck with them home from school for a week in the middle of the semester. Either way, how much of a break is it? Since we are staying home this year for Easter, it is the direct opposite of a break for me, it means not having a moment to myself this week.

My older son keeps referring to being "on spring break" and he doesn't know we're kidding when my husband and I shout out with fake excitement, "spring break 2010 - woo hoo!" But I can't help it - this is not the week that comes to mind when I think of "spring break". Bribing my kids to watch my tennis match today and then dragging them through the grocery store is not quite the same as a day in Cancun or Myrtle Beach. When I think "spring break", I think beaches, drinks, loud music, cute boys, dancing, and more dancing. I have many great memories of spring breaks of the past, but sadly there will be no foam parties this week and I didn't think the boys that woke me up this morning whining and crying were so cute.

Yes, spring break is very different these days. And although my husband is not taking off from work and my week is really not going to be much different, I will try to make it fun for my kids; it is after all their spring break, not mine. Tonight my kids wanted to have a "sleep-over" in my 6 year old's room as something special, so I tucked my 3 year old into bed with his brother and thought maybe they are cute after all. Within 10 minutes my 6 year old was calling for me complaining about his brother, "I can't sleep because he stinks and is stinking up my whole bed." Spring Break 2010 - woo hoo!!

Keeper of the Sea Monkeys

2010-03-23T12:00:00.000-04:00

We lost our Sea Monkey "Stanley" sometime overnight. I'm not exactly sure when it happened, as my 6 year old told me this morning that, "Dad noticed Stanley 'sleeping' last night". But, the discovery this morning of a floating lifeless crustacean was upsetting. My younger son was in tears because it was his "monkey", but I was upset because I spent so much time trying to get this Sea Monkey to grow that the creature floating this morning was a slap in the face. Why would I subject myself to Sea Monkeys in the first place? I don't know.

When I took on the role of "Stay at Home Mom", I knew what I was getting into. I knew that I was trading in my career of taking care of patients for the responsibility of taking care of everyone in my house. Much like an under-staffed busy shift in the hospital, there are many days that I am just trying to keep everyone here alive. But what I missed in my job description was the Zoology degree I would need to take care of all of the non-human living things in our house; and keep them alive. I'm taking the loss of the Sea Monkey hard.

I'll admit that when I bought the Sea Monkeys, I didn't know what they were. In fact, I assumed they weren't actually real. I had no idea that I would be farming brine shrimp. I bought them because they were on the shelf in the toy store next to the "Grow a Frog" kit I was buying for my older son. Since my younger son loves monkeys, I thought they would be a cute gift for him. Just like when I came home with a Beta fish a few years ago, I didn't think through the water changes and maintenance these little pets require. I was only thinking of my kids. But my kids are too young to independently care for their pets; so although these pets belong to my kids, they are really my responsibility. When the Beta fish "Swimmy I" was found floating a month after his arrival, I quickly replaced him and vowed I would never let another pet perish in my care. Swimmy II has now outlived his life expectancy and I consider him a success story. I've had success maintaining our hyper-allergic high-maintenance Golden Retriever and our new tadpole is growing on schedule into a lively frog.

So, I guess I was feeling confidant that I could in fact grow and take care of these mythical Sea Monkeys. I followed the directions exactly with my anxious 3 year old looking over my shoulder. And then we waited. Nothing. I was so worried about these little shrimp; I thought for sure I had already killed them. I checked them everyday for 2 weeks and finally, the tank was filled with movement. "The Stanleys", as they were named by my 3 year old, had hatched and were alive. I, with the supervision of my 3 year old, continued to care for them and watch them grow for another few weeks. But slowly, the number of Stanleys diminished, until we were left with just one quite large Sea Monkey. And now we're down to none. My 3 year old's tears were short-lived this morning, but I'm still disappointed in Stanley's demise. I take my job seriously, even if sometimes that's nothing more than keeping Sea Monkeys alive.

Leprechauns Beware

2010-03-16T18:25:00.017-04:00

In the car after school today, my older son said to his little brother, "I wonder what the Leprechaun is going to bring us tonight?" Whoa, wait a minute; tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, but what Leprechaun? My son went on to explain that a little boy in his class told him that on St. Patrick's Day a Leprechaun visits homes and brings gifts and treats for children to wake up to in the morning. I'm Irish and I know nothing about a Leprechaun bringing gifts, but I do know that this tale needs to be stopped. The last thing I need is another imaginary overnight visitor bringing trinkets to my kids; I have enough trouble keeping up with the well established ones, like the Tooth-Fairy and the Easter Bunny. I needed to squash this fabled Leprechaun and squash it fast.

I let my son know that I had my doubts about this so called gift-giving Leprechaun. It all sounded a little too "Charlie Brown" to me. But to be fair to the mom of the boy in my son's class, who obviously has a cute little tradition going on over at their house, I didn't want to just say its not true. So, I did what most modern day parents do to answer a challenging question; I Googled it, I consulted Wikipedia. My son and I read through several sites on the origin of St. Patrick's Day and Leprechauns and as I suspected, nowhere did we find anything about Leprechauns bringing children gifts. Instead we found a lot of sites on how to catch a Leprechaun and get his gold.

After sifting through all of the information, I successfully turned my son's interest from getting Leprechaun gifts into setting a trap to catch a Leprechaun. We spent the rest of the evening decorating paper Trader Joe's grocery bags with rainbows, clover, and gold, as instructed by many sites, to bait the Leprechaun. And we now have two elaborate Leprechaun traps set up in our house, complete with entrance only stairs built from blocks for the little guy, and bells to sound the alarm when he gets stuck in the bag and can't get out. So, beware Leprechauns, we don't want your gifts here, we're after your gold.

Taxi Cab Confession

2010-03-10T20:35:00.020-05:00

We've lived on the Main Line in our current home for 5 years now. And yet, my husband has trouble navigating from point A to point B on the Main Line. We're transplants, but still, its been 5 years. I asked him to drop my older son off at a friend's house in Wayne last weekend, a home that we have been to as a family many times for play-dates, dinners, and parties. A home, I might add, that I have had him drop off and pick up my son from before. He looked at me with a blank stare. I could tell he was nervous to ask, but he had no idea how to get there. After the appropriate amount of eye-rolling, I sent him out the door with detailed directions; knowing that he still had no idea and would plug the address into the car navigation and Google on his phone. Why does this man have no idea how to get anywhere outside of the 1 mile radius of our street?

But as I was driving today from Spanish class in Rosemont to soccer in Bala Cynwyd, I realized that my husband can't get anywhere, because he never goes anywhere. He drives the same 1 mile stretch every day to and from the train station; if there was a track, the car could drive itself. Meanwhile, I've spent the past 5 years driving the Main Line, from one end to the other. I shuttle my children, myself, and groceries to and from all points on the Main Line. I've worn a path between Wynnewood and Bryn Mawr getting my kids to school. I may spend the morning in Ardmore, but need to be in Radnor 10 minutes later. I've found the fastest route to pick up our sitter in Villanova, and a quick back road to the Country Club in Gladwyne. And I can get to Target in Plymouth Meeting without ever getting on the Blue Route if there's traffic. I confess, maybe I was a little hard on my husband. And maybe I shouldn't consider myself so much a talented driver, as just a taxi driver.

When I first moved here, I thought it was charming that I would always see someone I knew on the road. What a great community to live in where you see your friends and neighbors next to you at a traffic light or passing you with a friendly honk or wave. Now I realize its because all of my mom friends are all driving the same routes from one end of Lancaster or Montgomery Avenue to the other. We are all just working our part-time jobs as taxi drivers and the light is always on.

Mom

2010-03-08T13:24:00.000-05:00

Could my children call me something other than "mom"? Just for one day. Seriously, if I hear "Mawm", in those whiny little voices one more time today I might snap. You would think there was something really important that they needed my attention for. But no, its usually to ask me what day it is or to recount some adventure they went on in Webkinz World. I'm starting to think its some sort of reflex; that they may have some physical need to say "mom" at least a hundred times a day.

There was a day when my older son was 4 and he fired me. He didn't like something I asked him to do that morning; it was probably something crazy like put his shoes on to leave for school. In the car he told me that he did not need me to be his mom anymore and he would like someone else to pick him up from school. I informed him that I would be there to pick him up until he could find my replacement, but for the rest of the day I would not be answering to "mom" and he would have to call me "Mrs. V". That was a nice afternoon. For some reason "Mrs. V" did not roll off his tongue quite as easily as "mom". As I suspected, I was rehired by the end of the day, but unfortunately I regained my title as well, and am still answering to "mom".

Its not that I don't enjoy talking to my children or that I don't want to answer their questions; even the silly ones. But does every sentence or question have to start with "mom"? And if I don't say "yes" or "what", does "mom" have to be repeated until I make some sound? Can't they just proceed with their story? Its unnecessary, especially since a lot of these conversations are between me and just one of my kids - its obvious, at least to me, who he's speaking to. I'm just tired of hearing so many "moms". I know its my name, but I think its wearing out.

Overnight Shipping or Urine Soaked?

2010-02-24T21:03:00.000-05:00

I'm sad to report that Target has wronged me. I'm easily in Target on a weekly basis and I truly do heart Target. They do a brilliant job of knocking-off higher end clothing and design stores, while keeping the cost down. I'm always able to find exactly what I'm looking for and many, many others things that I'm not. And if I'm not able to locate the exact size or color of an item in a store, their website has never let me down. Target is my perfect store. Or, it was.

I'm going to a baby-shower on Friday and the mom-to-be is registered at a handful of places, Target included. It was a no-brainer. During the last snow storm, I decided I would save myself some hassle and just order her gift online. The gift arrived as scheduled yesterday and it seemed it was another perfect Target experience for me. It was perfect until I opened the outer packing box and was kicked in the teeth by one of the worst smells ever. It took me a few seconds, but I soon realized that this smell was the same one as the subway and rail stairwells - piss. I immediately dropped the box.

Within minutes I was on the phone with a Target online customer service agent. Surely, they would want to know about this. I mean, at this point, I felt like someone had wronged me and "my Target". I relayed my story to the agent and she didn't even waiver from her script, "I'm so sorry that you had this experience. We will be happy to reimburse you for your shipping and you are able to return the item to any Target store for a full refund". What? Didn't she hear me? I just said that I got an item shipped to me soaked in urine, and she is happy to have me just return it to any store? That would require me to actually touch this box again. After re-iterating the pee detail a few more times, she still didn't sound surprised, but did attach a $5 voucher to my account. Gee, thanks.

So, today I trucked the box of piss over to the Target store to return it. My husband thought I was crazy, "Why would anyone want you to return that? No one wants to have to handle that". But I was determined that Target needed to know that this occurred somewhere in their packing and shipping process. I was certain that an actual live person would have a reaction closer to mine and maybe let someone important in the Target company know. I placed the clean outer packing box on the returns counter and quickly warned the girl that I received the item inside with what appears to be urine on it. She didn't blink; she didn't even look at me. It was as if this was not the first time she's seen this. She opened the box, despite my warnings, "I don't know if you want to touch that". She said so matter-of-factly, "I need to touch it to scan it". And that was it, a second later she was handing me my refund receipt. I was so confused, I couldn't even bother any longer. Did I miss something? Is this normal to expect that sometimes you will just receive a package that has been pissed on? I must have missed something somewhere when I was checking out online. Was there a check-box under shipping preferences that asked if I wanted overnight shipping or soaked in urine?

I can't say that I will stop shopping at Target. I actually shopped after I returned the item. But I will say this has opened my eyes to a very strange, but apparently common phenomenon. I won't ever open a packing box the same way again.

Going Topless

2010-02-16T11:55:00.000-05:00

We just spent a week at a French beach resort and although it was great to be immersed in the French language, culture, and food; we were also surrounded by their custom of going topless on the beach. We've been to this resort before, so it wasn't entirely unexpected, but I have to say that the first day on the beach still took some getting used to. I read somewhere that going topless is falling out of fashion on French beaches, but this was not the case here. Women of all ages were sunbathing, conversing with whole groups of people, and playing on the sand and in the water with their small children - all sans tops. It was a very family friendly G-rated, albeit, topless scene. So regardless of the current trend, why were/are the French so much more carefree about their bodies?

In general, on the beach the French seem to cover very little compared to Americans. But from my observations, its not because they all have perfect bodies - they don't. So, why did I feel like I should be covering up my imperfections, even with a top on? It became very clear to me that Americans obsess way too much over appearances. Its really no wonder that we have body image issues. Is it possible that other countries just don't care? It was interesting that the only person I saw wearing a skirted tankini, was a prudish American. She might as well have been wearing a dress because she looked fully clothed next to all of the monokinis on the beach. Interestingly, the term "monokini" in France means just the bottoms, not that strange looking attached bikini suit they sell in America where you can wear a "bikini" without showing your stomach. In America, by trying to cover up our imperfections instead of just baring them, are we insinuating that there is something wrong with less than perfect bodies? This isn't the best message to be sending to our children.

I also noticed that absolutely no one seemed to take notice of the boobs all over the beach; except for my American husband. I'm sure other men noticed, they are men after all, but there was no gawking. Can you image the Guido crazed frenzy that would occur if the Jersey Shore decided to go topless? But really what's the big deal? Men are topless on the beach, why can't women be? And would my husband really have noticed if he grew up in a place where it was normal for women to bare it all rather than hide everything? I don't know, but I liked how by baring it all, the French seemed to strip away that superficial layer of appearances. Boobs just became boobs, all sizes and shapes, not some mysterious thing for boys to be obsessed with getting a glimpse of.

I won't deny that by the end of the week, I was feeling pretty confident and comfortable with the idea, the idea mind you, of removing my top on the beach. However, on our last day there, I was putting sunscreen on in my bedroom of our suite and hadn't yet put my bikini top on. My 3 year old came barging in to ask me a question. He took one look at me and ran, without question, to the other room to immediately tell his older brother, "Mom doesn't have her 'boob covers' on today!" Feeling gone. You can take American kids to a French resort, but they're still American.

Valium-times Day

2010-02-14T12:24:00.000-05:00

Today is Valentine's Day and I'm spending it with my three favorite people; my two boys and my husband. However, I feel like we've spent a little too much time together this past week. After being away on vacation together for 9 days, we came home to the biggest snowstorm in local history and have been snowed in together for another week. We've had just a little too much "together time". The novelty of the snow has worn off and my children don't even want to go out and play in it anymore. Inside they have exhausted every video, computer, and board game; and we have watched all appropriate movies On-Demand.

Both boys made me cards this morning and my 6 year old wrote out each card to say, "Happy Valientimes Day". I thought it was funny when I read it out loud because my first thought was "Valium" - that's what I need right now. My kids haven't been to school in two weeks and the weather people are now predicting another snowstorm. I'm not sure we can make it through another week snowed in at home. I might need a Valium time day.

Pre-trip Trippin

2010-01-21T17:57:00.000-05:00

My head is spinning. I am in full on crazy mode getting ready for our winter vacation and there is a lot that needs to happen to get this family of 4 off on a vacation. This is not about who does what, although, I think you could guess that I am dealing with most of the details of preparing and packing. But no matter who does it, is it worth it? Is one week away worth all of the work that is required to get away?

We've done some shorter trips this winter to ski and my husband and I have seen the other side now; we've seen vacations from the parent side. We were packing the car late one Friday night and both looked at each other with the same thought, "They have no idea". Our kids had gone to bed hours before excited to ski. In the morning, they woke up and off we went without a single detail of the day crossing their little minds; everything just fell into place for them. They had no idea the preparation that went into that one day-trip of skiing - remembering all of the gear, packing extra clothes, snacks, and lunch. Their job was just to get up, get dressed, and get into the car. Now I see all that went on behind the scenes of every trip I ever took as a child. Its a lot of work.

Its a lot of work and there's no vacation to prepare for your vacation; it all has to somehow occur during an otherwise normal week. For next week's trip my to-do list is very long. I've been been piecing together summer clothes that still fit my kids and buying needed shorts, bathing suits, and sunscreen. I've been doing what seems like a never ending pile of laundry preparing to finally pack. And amongst the swirling in my head is all of the notes and phone calls that need to be made this week reminding everyone that my children will be absent from school and activities. Not to mention recruiting friends and neighbors to pick up mail, water the plants, and feed the fish. Its just a lot to keep track of. Throw in there a trip to the kennel to drop off the dog and it just becomes a very stressful week. Is all of the stress of this week a fair exchange for a week of not dealing with any of it?

I'm not sure the prep work is always an even exchange for the week off. But for this vacation, if all goes as planned, I am sure. I do know that the minute we step off the plane onto the warm tarmac of that tiny island airport, I will be relaxed; I won't even care if there is a line at customs. I can say this with almost certainty because we do this every winter and every year it feels worth it once I get there. Despite being the one to organize this family to leave on vacation, I will truly be on vacation once we are there. I won't cook or clean for 9 whole days and for most of that time someone else will be entertaining my children. But every year, I do come dangerously close to losing my mind in the days leading up to the trip. Pre-trip "trippin" is the price you pay for the potential of a really great trip.

Dear Child

2010-01-18T20:16:00.000-05:00

Dear Child,

I am not a tree, but you keep climbing on me. I am not a rope, but you keep pulling, swinging, and hanging on me. I am not a tissue, but you keep rubbing your nose across my shirt. I am not a trash can, but you keep handing me your empty wrappers. I am not a pillow, but you keep laying on me. I am not a door mat, but you keep stepping on me.

I am none of these things, but all of these things to you because I am your mother. Today you told me that you weren't going to love me anymore. I know you were angry and you were trying to hurt my feelings because you were hurt. Its okay. But you don't know yet that these words don't hurt. I am your mother and I put up with all of these things because I love you. If I can withstand all of your climbing and pulling on me, I can withstand your words. I am your mother and will do all of these things and more. I am your mother and I will always be your tree.

Practice

2010-01-07T12:19:00.000-05:00

Yes, I'm talking about practice. I'm talking about practice and how much of my life is spent, maybe wasted, watching practice. I'm not talking about a game, I'm just talking about practice. With two kids involved in probably too many activities, I find myself spending hours sitting and watching; sitting and waiting - for practice to be over. There's swimming on Mondays, Spanish and indoor soccer on Tuesdays, and choir on Wednesday. I could go on with the tennis, outdoor soccer, and t-ball, but I think you get the idea. There seems to be some portion of my day, everyday, that is spent sitting idly because I had to escort my children somewhere for practice.

I suppose some would say I'm fortunate that I'm able to take my kids to these activities and watch them. And, I guess if you've never had the opportunity to watch your kids in action you might wish you had my privilege. But, the novelty of this privilege has certainly worn off, a few hundred hours ago. And now I wonder what kinds of great things I could be doing instead of sitting in a folding chair somewhere in a dingy gym or pool.

Of course I don't just sit there. I read, I check email, and sometimes I even blog on my phone. But, I only do these things because I'm confined; I have lots of other things that actually need to get done, like dinner. I've become addicted to Facebook and Twitter and I blame practice. Extracurricular activities should keep you off of the web, but that would be if we were talking about practice for me. I'm still talking about practice for my kids. But, I'm just talking about practice. I love being home with my kids otherwise and it doesn't ever seem like a waste of time to spend my day with them. I don't even mind most of the sacrifices I make for them every day. Now, if only I could remotely make dinner while sitting at practice.

Division of Labor

2010-01-02T17:44:00.001-05:00

I was taking the trash out last night and noticed that one of our carriage lights on the back garage is out. When I came back in the house I asked my husband if he could replace the bulb. His response was, "Its funny that women can't change light-bulbs". Huh. Maybe his response was fueled by the fact that I had just asked him the day before to change one of the lights that was out in the kitchen ceiling. I can change a light bulb, but since my husband is quite a bit taller, it just seems like this should fall under his responsibilities. I mean, shouldn't something fall into that category around here?

The holiday season is always a good reminder of how the labor in the household is really divided up. My husband will argue that he put up the Christmas trees and strung the lights. Yes, he did help with these two things, but I'm pretty sure my kids would not have been satisfied with just a tree and lights on Christmas morning. I spent hours decorating the trees and house, baking, shopping, and wrapping. Do men even know how to wrap presents? My husband didn't buy, know, or wrap any of the gifts my children opened on Christmas morning; and he didn't wrap any of the gifts he got for me either. If gift wrap wasn't offered where he shopped, I just received the item in the packing box. Since we weren't with any of my in-laws to see them open their gifts, I'm betting my husband still doesn't know what he got his family. And with all of the festivities and entertaining of the holiday season that I prepped for, there comes the clean-up, which also somehow falls into the category of my responsibilities.

So, maybe its funny that I "couldn't" change those light-bulbs. But, its also funny that men don't know how to clean anything. My husband's way of doing laundry is putting whatever clothing he spilled on into the utility sink in the laundry room. The laundry fairy takes it from there. There have also been many occasions where my husband has shown me where the cat or dog threw up in the house - so I would know where to clean up the mess. When my 3 year old peed on the bathroom floor, my husband who was standing next to him said to me, "You got this? I don't know how to clean this up". Yeah, I got it. And I also get that I'm not taking on any new skill sets - like changing out of reach light-bulbs.

My Cat

2009-12-23T00:58:00.000-05:00

I lost a friend today. I had to put my cat that I've had for over 13 years to sleep tonight. And, I'm profoundly sad. She was diagnosed with cancer over a year ago, so I knew this day was coming. And during this process I've been somewhere in the middle of feeling like she was a family member, and she was just a cat. But I'm now realizing that although she became our family cat, she represented so much more to me. She was the last thing in my current life that connected me to my life before being a stay-at-home mom married with kids. She was my pet, my roommate, back before I was someone's wife or mom. When you think about it, its rare to have something actively reminding you of a time before all of this. She was the first thing I got for my first apartment after college and my first real responsibility. And she was the only one I could count on to greet me when I came home from work at all crazy hours.

My cat has since seen many moves and many changes in my life. She made room for my husband to move-in, and then tolerated the dog and the kids that followed. She wasn't always happy about these adjustments, but she was there, and she was a constant. Her scampering feet and her little chirps have always been my background noise, although I guess a lot more noise has been added to the mix. But despite the noises of my children running around the house and laughing, it seems a little too quiet tonight. So, I'm mourning the loss of my cat. I feel a little silly at how much grief I feel for a cat. And it seems odd that I feel alone when surrounded by a house full of my lively family. My family is sad too, but she really was my cat. She was a good companion and if I think back to "way back when", without her I would have been alone.

Halloween Comes Once a Year

2009-12-11T08:56:00.000-05:00

'Tis the season; the Christmas season. Its December. Our Advent calendars are halfway done. Our letters to Santa have been mailed. Christmas music is playing everywhere and there is a wreath on every street corner. So why is my 3 year old still talking about Halloween?

Since November 1st, he has been planning his costume for next year. Each day it changes slightly and every few days he comes up with a whole new idea. With each new thought he comes running to me filled with excitement to tell me about his costume for next Halloween. Sometimes he seeks me out with his catalog in hand asking me if we can order the latest ensemble. I don't get it. Shouldn't he be excited for the prospect of new toys under the tree?

I entertained his fascination with Halloween for the first few weeks of November. But on the day after Thanksgiving when we were cutting down our Christmas tree and all he wanted to talk about was his Halloween costume for 2010, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to release a statement that I would not be accepting any questions or engaging in any conversations pertaining to Halloween until the summertime. There are at least 10 holidays that follow Halloween, including his birthday, that we will decorate for and celebrate; I think we can wait a few more months to start planning out the next Halloween costume. He was crushed. "But Mom" he whined, "I'm just so excited for Halloween".

Maybe its because he is young and he just doesn't really remember his first two years - maybe he doesn't even know how great Christmas can be. This year has been the first year where I feel like my 3 year old has been an active part of our family. But maybe its just that he's 3 and he still finds such simple joys in life. I'm not sure when you lose that, but as an adult it is pretty incredible to watch. Its been a few weeks since I stopped the Halloween discussion and he's moved on to practicing his Christmas carols for his school pageant. But the other night when I came into his room to tuck him in, he was lying in bed smiling and staring up at the ceiling. When I asked him what he was thinking about, he said "my costume for next year". Ah, the simple life.

Table for Three

2009-11-29T15:36:00.000-05:00

I'm tired of dining with my kids. My gripe, and I should clarify, is that I am tired of dining alone with my kids. Don't get me wrong, the dining experience in general with this age group is not fabulous, but when you are the only adult at the table there's really not much upside. What I find challenging about dining with my kids is that I am not actually dining. I spend most of my time being a waitress. By the time I get everyone served at the table and food cut up, something has usually spilled or a drink needs to be refilled. I find that I am up from the table so often during the meal that I'm better off just standing at the island counter where I am within reach of any refills or cleaning supplies I might need. I tend to just grab my dinner when I'm "on break" from busing their table. Or I just wait until they are in bed and enjoy my dinner with a well deserved glass of wine and Access Hollywood.

But am I wrong in adapting to our situation? Dining alone with the kids is part of the culture where I live. Stay At Home Moms are not uncommon and most husbands I know are commuting into the city or traveling for work. I can't think of one husband I know who has a "9-5" job and is home every night for dinner. This week my husband is traveling for work, but even when he is in town, he gets home later than my kids can wait to eat. So, we've adjusted and I get them fed the best way I can. But with all of the research supporting "family dinners" being thrown in our faces, what are we to do? Am I hurting my kids because I don't have both parents (and sometimes no parent) at the table with them to eat? Some of these articles I've read recently would have me believe so. And that's not fair.

I get it - that mealtimes are a way to give and get undivided attention. And I'm not arguing with the research, the articles, and the public service ads running touting the positive effects of family dinners. Research shows that kids who have family dinners (some are encouraging at least 5 times a week) have better eating habits and views of food, better grades, less substance abuse, and stronger relationships with their parents. But, realistically families and lifestyles have changed and I don't think its fair to try to beckon us all back to the days of the Cleaver family. Is the act of eating dinner really bringing about these results? Or is it the conversations and modeling that are happening during this together time? With the ages my kids are, mealtimes are not the forum that they could be when they are older. An actual attempt at daily family dinners for me would likely be futile since there is very little conversation - there's a whole lot of spilling and cleaning.

So, to all of those "researchers" out there telling us that we need to have family dinners to have successful children, don't underestimate the other options for "family time". Its just food, and as I started to say, its just really not that enjoyable trying to eat with my kids. I would much rather maintain our routine of my husband joining us to read books before bedtime, or our weekend games of Horse in the driveway and walks with the dog to the coffee shop. I'm exempting those of us who have kids young enough to want to hang out with us from this research. I'll stress about trying to fit family dinners into an impossible schedule when I need to force my kids to be in the same room as me.

Finding Wedge Antilles

2009-11-15T16:56:00.000-05:00

Today was one of those days that I have to ask myself, "What happened? How did my life become this?" I spent a good 20% of my day today looking for a small 2 inch Lego Star Wars figure named Wedge Antilles. My 3 year old has a strange attachment to this little guy, mostly because he is wearing an orange suit. But whatever the reason, Wedge Antilles' whereabouts must be known by my 3 year old at all times. And if his location becomes unknown, we must stop anything we are doing to find him. If he is missing for too long, there is preschool hysteria. Wedge's popularity waxes and wanes and he sometimes spends weeks sitting safely on a bookshelf, but today he was the "it" toy.

So, we started the morning with Wedge being lost somewhere in his room and my 3 year old in a panic. He can never remember where he last put him. My 3 year old swore he was on his bed quilt, but after tearing his bed apart, my 6 year old found him driving a monster truck parked down the hall. In the next hour, Wedge went MIA 3 more times; and 3 more times I had to drop what I was doing and come help find him. And then we needed to leave the house for school and Wedge could not be located. I had to drag my 3 year old screaming from the house, assuring him that Wedge would be safe in his undisclosed location until we came home again to find him.

These are the fires I now put out. I went from a career of saving lives, to saving Wedge Antilles. And sometimes I wonder: while I'm finding Wedge Antilles, am I losing myself? Isn't my time worth more than spending it looking for rogue Lego pieces? Maybe. But other than the frustration of having to find the same Lego piece over and over again, I'm not unhappy. I gave up my career life for full-time family life and yes, my life is different now and admittedly sometimes ridiculous. But, maybe I didn't lose anything at all. Being a parent has taught me to be "selfless" and I've learned that doing this full-time doesn't mean you have less of a self. On the contrary, I think there is so much more to me now that I've opened my life up to these little people, Wedge included. The key is finding balance amongst the ridiculous fires that blaze. So yes, maybe I was at Chuck E. Cheese at 10am on Saturday and that is ridiculous. But I was also out with my husband at a hip restaurant in the city at 10pm that night and that is balance.

And Here We Go . . .

2009-11-11T21:24:00.000-05:00

So, out of nowhere today my 6 year old asks me, "Mom, do you think Santa is real?" We were in the car and he was sitting behind me driving so he couldn't see my face. I paused for a good long moment to think about how I was going to answer this. Here it was; my opportunity to blow the whole Santa thing out of the water if he was ready. But I cautiously approached the question; or maybe I chickened out. I replied with my own question, "Maybe, what do you think?" My wise 6 year old said, "Well, maybe he's not really REAL, I'm thinking he's more of a spirit." Okay, I can work with this. I can go with the "spirit" theory without ruining all of Christmas. But I needed to clear up one major piece of the Santa story, "If Santa is just a spirit, where do the presents come from?" To this my son replied, "The Reindeer bring the presents. Reindeer are real Mom, they're deer." That's an interesting theory and I didn't want to press for anymore specifics. So, just to recap: Santa is not a real person, just a spirit. But Reindeer are real and they do in fact fly to deliver presents. Well, at least my 6 year old has the answers.

Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, and The Tooth Fairy

2009-11-02T20:22:00.000-05:00

I found myself saying to my kids the other day, "I have Santa's cell number and I WILL call him and tell him to skip our house this year if you don't behave". Am I a horrible mother? I use lies as threats to get my kids to behave. I've resorted to making up a story about calling a made up person. But since I've been feeding them this story about a fat guy in a red suit bringing them presents every year, is it really so bad that I just added to the story? They never questioned the validity. Of course I would have Santa's number; why wouldn't I?

But I feel bad. I feel bad about all of it; all the lies. I know they are the same tales that were told to me as a child and I never harbored any resentment against my parents when I learned the truth, but still, I hate lying to my kids. Especially when I have a hard time keeping all the made up stories straight. Like, for instance, how does the Easter Bunny get into our house again? I think the first Easter my oldest son asked I told him the mail slot. But then when he asked me again another year, I forgot what I had said before. We settled on that rabbits are just "tricky" and probably use some sort of magic.

We're going on the assumption that Santa uses some magic too. We have documented proof in all of our bedtime Christmas stories that he comes down the chimney, and so that bypasses any question about our alarm system. But he makes it down both of our chimneys to deliver presents to both Christmas trees we set up; and one of those chimneys was sealed shut when we had a gas log installed. Don't think my kids haven't looked up there wondering how Santa could get past a steel plate. Magic. And when "magic" doesn't stop the questions, I resort to bringing up the real meaning of Christmas. Throwing around phrases like "Christmas spirit" makes that magic seem more believable. And, talking about baby Jesus gets them off the subject of Santa, at least temporarily.

But I have to just stick with plain "magic" for the creepy Tooth Fairy. What else does she have? I don't even know where this crazy woman who collects kids' teeth came from. If you look her up, she's actually a mouse which is even creepier. But regardless, she is the talk of the Kindergarten class and they expect her to show up. I didn't have her back story prepared when my son lost his first tooth. And when he lost his first tooth, he lost it, as in no tooth to put under the pillow. I didn't have the Tooth Fairy's procedural guide to help me in this situation. All I had was her first name. Apparently Tooth Fairies service generations of families because we have inherited my husband's Tooth Fairy "Blanche". So, I found myself not only telling my son a story about a fairy lady named Blanche, but at midnight that night I was writing a letter from her in the best frilly script I could produce that would look like a fairy. It all seemed ridiculous to me. But the next morning, it seemed perfectly logical to him that Blanche would have looked for his tooth on his school bus that night and found it. He never questioned how she got into our house to leave him money and a note under his pillow.

So, I guess as long as my kids keep buying all of these tall tales, I'll keep selling. But at the first sign of doubt on their part, I might cave and come clean. I don't want to spoil the wonders of childhood, but I just don't know how many more excuses I can come up with for these make believe people. Last year when Santa delivered a broken toy, I had some explaining to do. I had to explain why the Elves would not have tested it first. And why were we able to exchange it at Target? I could see my son's thought process in motion and I think I heard him mumble, "Why couldn't Santa just buy it at Target? Why does Santa need Elves?". I was waiting for "Why do we even need Santa?" But that question didn't come. Not yet.

Hidden Moments

2009-10-29T18:47:00.000-04:00

I read a quote today by Charles R. Swindoll: "Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children". How sweet; its such a nice reflection on how we as parents impact our children's lives daily. However, as I was thinking about my day today, I realized that the tirade I went on this morning when we were late leaving for the bus stop is not a memory I want my children depositing in their long term savings account. The nagging at the table last night to finish their dinner in under an hour isn't either. But how do you balance out those necessary parenting moments, that get your children to school on time and keep them nourished, while providing those good memory moments too?

Recently I've felt like I spend all of my energy just getting my boys to do the basic requirements of life and it involves a lot of instruction, reminding, nagging, and finally yelling. My best friend, who also has two boys ages 7 and 4, has told me that she is "really just trying to keep them alive right now". She counts her day as a success if they all got where they needed to be dressed and fed and arrived there and home again safely. That is not to say there are no good moments ever; my friend and I both share the same bedtime routine with our children of reading books and snuggling, but is that enough? Are those brief moments each day of calm happiness enough to fill up our children's memory bank?

I attended a talk by Dr. Stephen Treat, CEO of the Council for Relationships, a few weeks back and his "take-home" message was to make time to "peerage" with your children. His emphasis was to not spend every moment of the day parenting your children; there should be some amount of time each day where you are interacting with them, talking with them, or playing with them on their level as a peer. There should be time that you spend with your children where you're not reminding them of the things they haven't done or aren't doing correctly. When I think about the time I spend with my kids, I realize how much time I do spend parenting and when I'm not parenting I'm just background noise cleaning up or prepping for the next activity. Sure, its necessary, but its not much fun for either one of us. But creating a "peerage" situation seems like it takes planning and forethought and I'm not sure how much energy I have left for that. I tried to plan a special evening last night of an early dinner and PJs for the three of us followed by snuggling in front of a Charlie Brown Halloween special. But before we had even finished dinner, there was yelling and whining because my kids weren't following the plan and we were running out of time before bed.

I've had the "peerage" advice in my head for a few weeks and have been trying to pay more attention to the quality of time I spend with my kids. But reading that Swindoll quote about memories really put it into perspective for me. What do I want my children to remember from their childhood? They'll probably remember the Charlie Brown special, but they won't remember watching it with me because I was cleaning up the mess they left at the dinner table. Are they going to remember that I got them to school on time everyday, or is there a better memory of us belting out an 80's rock tune in the car together while we were waiting for the bus? I think its those hidden moments - those unplanned opportunities that make the best memories. I'm guessing the quantity of time doesn't matter as much as the quality of time for peerage. So, those silly conversations we have in car line and our impromptu kitchen dance parties when a good song comes on Pandora should be worth something. I just need to remember to look for those hidden moments each day.

A Mother's Love

2009-10-22T11:05:00.001-04:00

I watched a kid pull a long wet booger out of her nose this morning and proceed to stick it in her mouth and eat it. I honestly felt sick. Recounting this right now is making me a little queasy. But, I'm guessing that if my kid was the one who did this, I would probably laugh a little; maybe scold him for poor manners, but I doubt I would feel the wave of nausea I felt this morning. What is it about motherhood that makes us love our own kids no matter what?

I think I may have mentioned before that I'm not a crazy kid person. However, I really like my own gross kids. They're boys: they're dirty, sweaty, and they often don't smell that great, but I love them. Last week in Target I noticed a horrible smell filling the whole aisle we were in. When looking around to try to find the source, my eyes met my 3 year old's. He smiled and said in his little voice, "Excuse me." I had to smile; at least he is polite. But I doubt another parent would have thought he was so cute at that moment. And I know if he wasn't my own kid, I would want to get far away from him.

But that's the thing about a mother's love. I still see my kids through the same loving eyes no matter if they just stepped out of the bathtub smelling like soap or off of the soccer field smelling like sweaty feet. I guess that's unconditional love? It must be a little trick human nature plays on us to make sure that we're always there for our kids; to see them through childhood until they can fend for themselves. It enables us to deal with the diaper changes and the potty training; to not want to run when our kids our yelling from the bathroom that they need their butt wiped. And it ensures we soldier on through the puke and snot to care for our kids when they are sick, doing what ever it takes to comfort them until they are better. Its easy to love them when they are cute, clean, and well behaved. But we can't just love them part of the time; they need us all of the time.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

2009-10-06T14:59:00.001-04:00

My 6 year old came up behind me the other day and threw something at me. I turned around to see a quarter fall to the floor. When I asked him why he just threw change at me, he answered with a little giggle, "Dad says you can bounce a quarter off your butt and I wanted to see if its true". Really? "Well?", I asked him. He answered honestly, "It didn't really bounce like I thought it would."

But that's the hard truth, or not so hard, as it may be. My husband makes that quarter bouncing comment quite frequently as a joke when he thinks I've been logging more miles running than he has. But, despite all the exercise I try to squeeze into my already crazy schedule, I am just a mom. And I've learned to accept, "You look really good - for a mom", as a compliment. In fact I embrace those sentiments now because if the stories I heard when I was pregnant were true, I'd be overweight and much more out of shape now. I had very bitter women tell me (while pregnant nonetheless, as if I didn't already feel fat enough), "You never lose all the weight", "Your hips will always be a little bigger", and "Your feet will grow at least a shoe size". If it wasn't for my best friend, who lived 3,000 miles away, telling me "work at it and you can lose the weight"; if I didn't have her own little post-baby body to hold as a reference, I might have just surrendered to a life of frumpy mom jeans. But I did work at it; I did work-out and I literally ran my ass right off. Three months after both my sons were born, I was back in my skinny jeans and all of my shoes. The truth is, you can go back to being the same size or even smaller than you were before kids and you can do it multiple times; it is possible. But there are other truths and they are bad; some even ugly.

Despite losing all of the baby weight and then some, no amount of exercise is going to undo what my two kids have done to me. I let them each live in my body until their exact due date and although I am grateful that they didn't trash the place; they didn't leave it as they found it when they moved out. Thankfully, I don't have stretch marks, but my skin and muscles will forever feel the lasting impression of being "stretched". No amount of crunches will ever get my stomach back to exactly how I remember it. And I miss my old belly button; I never contemplated how the belly button would be collateral damage with the "stretching" too. I am forever reminded that I was once 50 pounds larger when I lift something heavy and that familiar sciatic pain shoots down my leg. And when I push myself too hard on a long run, those ligaments, that I didn't even know I had until they were stretched beyond repair, flair up and I'm crippled for days. And yes, I did run my ass off; its gone along with any other curves I once had. Nursing two kids for 9 months each didn't help that cause either. Exercise can only repair so much - there is a reason plastic surgery exists.

So quarters don't bounce off of me. Maybe I should have gone for a run this morning instead of running errands; and maybe I shouldn't have passed off a Pop-tart as lunch because I ran out of time. But I am a mom after all and I embrace that. I'm not holding my new body against my children. It may have a few tell-tale signs of motherhood, but I'm actually a smaller size and in better shape than I was before kids. Am I a candidate for Dr. 90210 Rey's "Mommy Makeover"? Absolutely. And I'm not opposed to fixing what exercise can't, but I'm also a chicken when it comes to pain. I somehow managed to have two kids enter this world pain free. Unless I can be guaranteed to be allowed to go home with an epidural still intact, I won't be making any trips to Beverly Hills any time soon.

Spilled Milk

2009-10-02T14:57:00.002-04:00

You've heard the saying "Don't cry over spilled milk". Well, I don't agree. Sure this saying has a nice hidden meaning - don't regret what can't be undone. But to anyone with kids this idiom is much more literal. For me, milk being spilled is part of our daily routine and although I can't put the spilled milk back into the glass, I can regret that it continues to happen time and time again.

My 5 year old may have the record for spilled milk. At one point he was averaging one glass a meal, 3 meals a day, every day. It has lessened, but I don't exactly know how this still continues to happen. Some days it is obvious when he is sitting at the table playing with his food, his plate, his silverware and his glass, that something is going to spill. Other days I see it coming when I ask him over and over again to please stop pretending to play baseball at the table. But my 5 year old never heeds my warnings and always tries to fit one more "up to bat". Inevitably when his little brother pitches the imaginary baseball across the table to him, he spills his milk when he swings. There are times too where the milk just seems to spill without warning, almost without actual cause. There's a flick of the wrist or a bump of the elbow that is almost too fast for the naked eye to see. What I don't understand is how he never learns from the time before. Why can't he be more careful? Why is milk still spilling in our house?

I remember clearly the first time he spilled milk at the table. He had just graduated to a real cup from a sippy cup. I didn't see what caused the spill; I turned my back for a second in the kitchen and the next thing I heard was him crying and the splashing sound of milk running off the table onto the floor. I remember staying calm, hearing that old adage in my head, and not wanting him to cry. Thinking I was being a "good mom", I stayed calm and I assured him it was okay; wiping his tears away. I cleaned up the table and the floor with a smile, and got him another glass of milk. But I have since become a little too familiar with that sound of milk rolling off the table onto the floor. Maybe I let him off too easy? I know that a glass of spilled milk is really not a big deal. But when I find myself under the kitchen table repeatedly cleaning up puddles of milk, I have other thoughts.

I now think crying over spilled milk is very much warranted. In fact its expected, especially if I am the one cleaning up the mess. My kids know that we've well exceeded the number of times milk should spill in one household. They don't laugh when it happens; they just sit there quietly watching as I quickly race around the kitchen trying to soak up the table before it all falls to the floor. But on the days where there are multiple spills, sometimes tears are shed. Sometimes I remind them that I'm the one who should actually be crying, because I'm the one cleaning it all up. And sometimes I join them. When you are on your hands and knees under the table cleaning the floor for the second time that day and have milk fall on your head through the table leaf; then it is absolutely warranted to cry a little over spilled milk.

Bad Monkeys

2009-09-23T18:53:00.001-04:00

My 3 year old has an active imagination. He's the kind of kid that prefers to just play by himself sometimes. And he is all business when he plays; wrapped up in an elaborate make-believe world.

One rainy day this summer, the boys were playing inside while I did some things around the house. I passed my 3 year old in the upstairs hallway as he was gingerly shutting his bedroom door. He stopped me in the hall to tell me quite seriously, "Please do not go in my room right now because some of my monkeys are sick". His favorite animals are monkeys and he has a large collection of stuffed animal monkeys in his room. I asked him why his monkeys were not feeling well and he said, "Because they ate some bad monkey". Huh.

I'm used to my 3 year old saying pretty crazy things, so I left that one go without further explanation. Later that same day we were in the basement playing "restaurant" with our play food and kitchen set. My 3 year old was hard at work "cooking" up a full course imaginary meal. He mentioned to me so casually while stirring his imaginary soup, "My red monkey likes to cook." To keep the conversation going, I asked him what the red monkey likes to cook. He responded, "Bad monkeys". Well, I guess that explains what the other monkeys ate.

So, it seems that we have a tribe of misbehaving stuffed monkeys living under our roof in my 3 year old's room. The red monkey taking charge and cooking the bad monkeys was not limited to just that one day - my 3 year old has mentioned it other times as well, just as casually. And he refers to the red monkey as "the good monkey". Today, I asked him what else his monkeys eat. He responded, "Nothing, there are plenty of bad monkeys". Okay then. I should have left it at that, but I wanted to know what these monkeys do that is so bad. When I asked, he told me, "They sleep too much". I'm not sure I will ever understand what goes on in a 3 year old's head, but I'm glad we have the red monkey to keep order in our house.

Boys Will Be Boys

2009-09-17T20:50:00.001-04:00

My 3 year old has decided to be a cowboy for Halloween and he is very excited. But I think he is more excited because he thinks he should have a gun to complete his costume. I'm not a big fan of guns, toy or otherwise, so he and I have an ongoing discussion on whether he should really have one for Halloween. After much badgering by him, I agreed that I would get him a gun as long as it only "shoots love". He looked at me in disbelief, almost disgust, and asked me quite seriously, "How will I ever kill the bad guys then?"

That's a good question. But a better question is how did my 3 year old learn about "bad guys" and guns? I thought I had done a pretty good job of shielding his little world, but somehow he has still identified good and evil and has figured out how fighting and weapons can be used. For instance, this afternoon he wanted me to sit in his bean bag chair in his room and watch his choreographed "battles" against the "bad guys". Starting from the hallway he came flying into the room to battle his imaginary opponents. Since he does not yet have the gun he wants so badly, these battles were all fought with his hands, but in his mind they were swords, light-sabers, and guns. While I was sitting there watching I was thinking, "Is this normal boy behavior or should I be concerned?"

Before I had kids I would have found today's battle display disturbing and would have assumed the kid performing had serious issues. But I have since come to learn that boys can and will turn any object into an imaginary weapon, and in most cases they are not intending to hurt anyone. I heard stories about my nephew shooting people with string beans at the dinner table when he was 3. And now most days I find my own 3 year old like a sniper around the house. He not only will shoot or "sword" you with anything he can find, but he also has a habit of walking around the house making sound effects of things blowing up. It was unsettling at first, but it now seems pretty normal for a boy.

I'd like to think that boys are just genetically programmed like this. Its my only explanation since my kids don't watch violence or weapons on television or in movies and don't see it demonstrated by the people in their lives. But, even without these influences my older son as early as the age of 4 would "fight" with his preschool friends for fun. One of the little boys would say "let's fight" and within seconds the whole group of them would be rolling around on the floor wrestling and giggling. Yes, giggling. And sometimes the wrestling match would just turn into a big hug. Boys will be boys and it is not containable. A perfect example was at last year's Country Club Christmas party where one boy started a trend by asking the balloon clown to make a sword; then another boy topped that by asking for an Uzi. Within the hour every boy under the age of 10 had some type of balloon shaped weapon. In the middle of a very elegant party, there was a graphic balloon battle being fought in the corner of the dining room in uniforms of Christmas plaid and Bucks. I had to laugh a little when I saw my then 2 year old blaze past me hot on a waiter's trail with his balloon Uzi - sound effects and all.

So, I laugh and hope that this play is just play and does not affect how they turn out as people. My husband keeps reminding me that good versus evil is just human nature and kids try to grasp that concept in whatever way they can; sometimes that is role-playing games. Although my kids do always want to be the "good guy" and fight the imaginary "bad guy", I still don't like the pretend shooting. But, I think back to my childhood where half of the toys in my house were my brother's and mostly weapons. He had a full arsenal of realistic looking toy cap guns, swords, and bow and arrows; and I like to think that my brother and I turned out alright. So, I'm working with my kids on this. I still don't like guns, but I point out to them the police officers and the armed service people who use them for good to protect us. My 3 year old is now going to be a Sheriff for Halloween, not just a cowboy. And he did come back to me after much thought about his Halloween gun with a compromise. He is now asking for "just a gun that shoots nothing" so it won't hurt anyone. I guess I can deal with that.

Happy Heartbreak

2009-09-09T21:04:00.001-04:00

If you want to feel really sad, put your first born on the bus for the first time to Kindergarten and wave good-bye. Sigh . . . That's what I did this morning and I have to say that although I thought I was prepared, you are never really prepared for your children to grow up.

My 5 year old and I have both been excited about him starting his new school this fall. We've been preparing all summer and we were ready. We visited his school and met his teachers. We shopped together for new clothes, shoes, and school supplies. And, we talked about what his days would be like being a "big kid" riding a bus and staying for the afternoon. The days leading up to the start of school we picked out his first day outfit and went grocery shopping for lunches. We really were ready. He was super excited and literally bouncing off of furniture last night. And I was feeling calm; like this was all just a natural progression.

But as we stood there this morning waiting for the bus it started to bother me. The bus was running late and I think I had too much time to think. As I stood there, taking picture after picture of my little boy, looking through the camera at him I realized that he isn't so little anymore. And then he showed me that he has two loose teeth. I suddenly had this overwhelming sense that something big is changing here. Its not that this moment now being here is a surprise; I don't honestly feel like it was just yesterday that he was an infant. But I do feel like the years have started to blur. What if all of elementary school is just a big blur from this "big" moment on? That's what started to tug on my heart. That it could all move at a lightning speed pace from here on and him being a child could be over in a flash.

So, I think my heart broke just a little bit this morning. It was a happy moment, but sad. I tried to focus on the happy and he was so happy to be waiting with his big backpack for the big bus. I didn't cry and I didn't tell him I would miss him while he was gone. But he sensed it, or maybe he was feeling just a little bit of the moment too. He looked straight into my eyes before the bus pulled up and said, "You know Mom, I will always be your little 'Love', no matter how big I get". Well, that was it, I just about lost it then. But still, I smiled. Having my grown up 5 year old say something so meaningful to me at just the right moment made it a happy heartbreak.

Competitive Streak

2009-09-03T11:54:00.001-04:00

My 5 year old got in a fight today at our house during a play-date because he was losing a game. I can't say that I'm all that surprised; I thought this might be coming. But, I am surprised that I am dealing with this now - I mean he's 5. Just last year he was not all that good at anything; and now all of the sudden he is good at everything and feels that he should always win. Today, an older boy was beating him at Wii boxing and my son lost control. I wasn't in the room to see the conflict, but after piecing together the story from different eye-witness accounts, it seems that my son said some mean things when he went on a losing streak and then took the boxing to real life and hit the other boy. I'm appalled at my son's competitive streak and this aggressive side that has recently come out; and I'm terrified of becoming the mom with the sore loser kid who is a jerk.

I wasn't surprised by my son's behavior because I know where he came from. His father was "that kid" and my mother-in-law was that horrified mom. I guess competitive streaks are genetic. In sports as a kid my husband was no stranger to fouls and yellow cards. He was the kid who never struck out without throwing a bat or cursing, he shoved on the basketball court, and I've seen him clear a bench in soccer for a mid-field brawl. You get the point: my husband was a jerk as a kid. These memories of my husband when he was younger are like watching a preview to a "coming soon" movie starring my son. Like his father, my son has become very athletic and very competitive. Most days I no longer consider my husband a jerk, so there is hope for my son. But it is really hard to watch certain traits appear in our kids because we can see ourselves; the good, the bad, and today, the ugly.

I am the complete opposite of my husband. I don't have a competitive bone in my body and I could care less if I lose. I've gracefully accepted my third place spot in our family for all competitions and I know when my younger son finds his coordination, I won't even be on the podium. I was hoping that my older son would be evened out by his two parents, but I had a clue when he wouldn't accept losing in games of chance like Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders that he would be competitive just like his father. I've always told my son, that you can't always be the winner, but more recently he has come back at me with "you can if you are the best". I've tried giving him the line "winning isn't everything, its how you play the game" only to get his response of "why would I want to play if I didn't win". I can see his point; I've heard this argued by his father before. But the fact is, he is going to lose sometimes; he already has. Somehow he has to learn to control that aggressive competitive energy when he is losing. Although I want to raise "winners", I need to also raise mature losers. Maybe my husband, with all of his competitive experience, should be taking the reigns on this lesson?

My husband had a talk with my son tonight that went something like "don't be a jerk, I was a jerk and no one liked me". Somehow, I don't think that conversation is going to be the catalyst for change. My kids worship their father and I don't think they believe he was ever a jerk or that no one liked him. For now my son will be without Wii or any other video or computer game that he loves. Having the opportunity just to participate is going to have to be his reward and incentive for dealing appropriately with any losses. And then maybe he will get the message that sometimes it is just fun to play the game - its better than not playing at all. Hopefully my younger son will be wired more like me, but judging by his recent temper tantrum when losing a simple race down the driveway, I think I'm in for more trouble.

The Great Debate

2009-08-25T16:29:00.001-04:00

How many times have I heard a mom tell me, unsolicited, that they never thought they would drive a minivan and they can't believe they are driving one now? I pretty much hear it from every minivan driver I know and that statement is then usually followed by a list of justifications, again unsolicited, on why they "had to go with the minivan". I sat at dinner one night with a table full of moms and watched three different minivan drivers defend and justify adamantly why they drive a minivan. They were so heated in their defense to each other that an outsider would have thought a debate was going on, but they were all on the same side. And I noticed that the rest of us at the table who drive SUVs sat quietly. None of us were attacking them for their minivan choice. We never entered the conversation or the debate. But for some reason, they still felt the need to list all of the reasons why the minivan "just makes more sense".

The minivan can be a good option for families, but let's clear up a misconception: getting a minivan is NOT a rite of passage as a mother. Moms have told me that they now have to drive a minivan because they have kids. But, you don't have to drive a minivan if you don't want to. It is just one of several options out there on the market. Yes, minivans provide a lot of interior room and extra seating and someone once defended the minivan as "at the intersection of cost and space"; you get a lot of car for the money. These all seem like fine reasons to choose this type of car, but I don't need to hear your reasons. I'm not sitting in my SUV judging you for being in a minivan. And I guess if you are judging me for driving my SUV, I just don't care enough. Do minivan drivers ever notice that you don't hear SUV drivers defending their choice in car?

If you want me to defend my choice to drive an SUV, I can, but the reasons I drive my car also make me happy. I love my car; I just do. My car, or "truck" as some would call it because of its off-road abilities, is fun to drive, its comfortable, and I think its cool. I've been driving my particular make of SUV since before I had kids and it has always met my needs for hiking, skiing, and toting my dog around. When I did have kids, I upgraded to a newer model for better safety features and a couple extra seats, but it is still basically the same vehicle. And although, the most off-roading my car now sees is occasionally parking in a soccer field, it still meets my needs and I still love it. No, the doors don't magically open and close on their own and there's no aisle to walk through the car from front to back; if you are in the third row, you're pretty much stuck there. And yes, sometimes I find myself standing on my head cursing trying to get the third row of seats folded up or down, but these are all things that I gladly accept.

So, minivan drivers out there, please stop defending yourselves. If you feel like you were forced into getting a minivan, I'm sorry, that's not fair. And, I don't know who would do that to you. Honestly, some of the stories I've heard are horrible: tears on the way to the dealer to get the minivan, etc. How does that happen? Did someone take you to the dealer at gun-point? Two of my friends who feel they were "never really minivan drivers" have recently traded their minivans in for SUVs, so it can be done. If you feel upset or embarrassed to be driving a minivan, then don't. If you do like your mini-van, that's great, don't defend yourself. You should like your car; as a mom you spend a lot of time in it.

Summers End

2009-08-13T13:19:00.001-04:00

The gradual shortening of the days with the earlier arrival of dusk snuck up on me. I knew it was coming, summer comes to an end every year, but I was having so much fun I didn't realize how the time had flown by. I went out for an early evening run like I've done so many times this summer and found myself struggling to see in the dark on my way home. This cue made me realize I need to change modes soon and get back into my over-scheduled, back to school, back to activities mode. Am I ready?

Summer is hard to say good-bye to. And this summer has been one of the best summers I've had in a long time. I spent years transplanted on the West Coast craving a real summer only to be disappointed by San Francisco's cold fog. Then we moved back to the East Coast and I spent several consecutive summers dealing with chaotic home renovations and babies. Being a Stay-At-Home Mom allows for a lot of freedom to enjoy the summer, but infants and babies do not make for an enjoyable time with the sun, heat, and water dangers. Summers are so much better when those babies become kids. I've seen the light at the end of the tunnel and it is sunny and bright. My kids were a dream this summer. They traveled well, they played on the beach and swam in the water without eating sand or drowning, and they managed to entertain each other on all of those rainy days the East Coast saw this year.

Summer has been good to me, so I hate to say this, but now that we're at summer's end, I think I'm getting sick of summer. Sitting by the pool or on the beach in June felt relaxing, now its starting to feel boring. I could use a break from smelling like Coppertone. I'm sick of being coated in a constant film of greasy sunscreen and I'm weary of the multiple reapplications I do on my kids everyday. I'm also growing tired of the post beach and pool routine; the rinsing off and washing out of things only for everything to be used again the following day. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm ready to trade this in for rinsing out and re-preparing lunchboxes everyday. I've enjoyed our relaxed meal schedule and dining alfresco, but I'm over the novelty of having the house opened up to the outdoors since my kids have now dragged much of the outdoors inside on their feet. And most of all, I'm sick of finding sand EVERYWHERE.

I've enjoyed this summer but, I am ready for a change. Even if that change brings me back into the hectic school year schedule. I'm ready to come back from the beach that final time until Memorial Day - back to school, back to church, back to our regular life. I'm looking forward to having to set an alarm clock and having to be somewhere again. I'm looking forward to getting dressed in real clothes, not just swim suits and running skirts; to trade in my flip-flops for Uggs. And I'm ready to start really combing my hair again; its time. The "beach hair" look is getting old. The thing is, I think I love summer so much because it doesn't last forever. I need it to end. For me its vacation mode and its wonderful, but to really appreciate how great that can be, I need the rest of the year too. I need that over committed sometimes stressful school year to really enjoy the relaxed pace of summer. As much as I am now looking forward to fall, the restart of school and committee work, the smell of a wood burning fire and football games; I'm sure by February I will be counting the days until spring. That's the beauty of seasons. I know I couldn't live anywhere without them.

Left Out

2009-08-11T19:22:00.002-04:00

I'm feeling a little left out. Everyone seems to have a tattoo and I don't have any ink. I'm not going to run out and get a tattoo because its not that I really want one, but I didn't realize how mainstream they have become. They aren't just for bad-ass bikers and sailors anymore. But I'm confused because studies done recently show that tattoo removal is actually on the rise because of the social stigma associated with tattoos. Interestingly enough, the word "stigma" actually means "tattoo" in other languages. But despite these studies, everywhere I look there seems to be a tattoo in plain view. Is there really still a stigma attached to tattoos or has that changed? And if there is a stigma, what is it? Maybe its not such a negative thing any longer to be a "bad-ass".

I was at Sesame Place with my kids at the beginning of the summer when I first started to notice the heavy prevalence of ink in our society. It seemed that everyone over the age of 18 had a tattoo in the park except for me. While we were waiting in line I had some time to study the tattoos of the group in front of us. The women all had matching "anklets" of jumping dolphins and various other hearts and flowers on their backs and shoulders. The man in the group had a showcase across his upper body. Did these tattoos influence my perception of this group of people I didn't know? Maybe. If nothing else, the tattoos gave me some information that this group didn't have about me. By the time it was our turn to get our photo with Cookie Monster, I at the very least knew all of their kids' names, their taste in music, and that someone had died because this was all incorporated into the man's "sleeves".

Maybe tattoos are just so common today that there can't be a stigma attached any longer. Maybe they can really just be seen as self-expression or art? But the term "tramp stamp" still pops into my head when I see a lower back tattoo (I can't help it, I've heard it too many times). And so I was a little shocked this summer when I showed up for the first time to swim at our Country Club. There was a lot of ink floating around the pool, including lower back tattoos. I was by no means offended, but I guess I just wasn't expecting them in such a "blue-blooded" crowd. I don't have a good reason why, but it just seems out of place. One lady in particular comes to the pool regularly fully "blinged" out in gold and diamonds. But she also has an ankle tat and another on her hip. Did my perception of her change when I saw her tattoos? Sure, I think so. There was suddenly more to her story for me; she became a little more edgy than just a pretty mom with some nice jewelry.

My kids think temporary tattoos are cool. Every kid loves temporary tattoos and my kids are sporting a new Transformer or Star Wars tattoo every couple of days. But my kids are also eerily drawn to Ed Hardy designs too, without even knowing that they are based on actual tattoo art. If my kids were picking out my clothes, I would be wearing my skull and broken heart Christian Audigier t-shirt every day. There are lots of tattoo inspired graphic t-shirts in stores now and my kids never fail to find them and insist that I add them to my wardrobe. Target even has a line of Ed Hardy designs back to school supplies and this is what my children run to - not the toys in the next isle. No, my kids would rather look at a mouse-pad with a "Death to Love" inscription across a broken heart. Designers and marketers have definitely decided that tattoos are mainstream.

Will I support my own children if they decide they want to get a tattoo someday? I'm still not sure I'm in. But, I'm not sure I have much of a case against it. There are a few moms in our crowd that have small ankle tattoos and I can hardly say that has any bearing on their character. My sister-in-law, who is also "tat-less" and I were discussing tattoos as she was applying a Henna tattoo on my ankle last week; a "girls' evening" activity chosen by my preteen niece. She likes the idea of tattoos as a form of self-expression, but she made a good point: she changes her mind too often to ever be happy with a design she might chose. Tattoos might be a little too permanent for me as well. I think my husband is very thankful that I talked him out of a Tasmanian Devil tattoo in high school and a fraternity inspired Rampant Lion in college. Stigma or not, these images just don't fit in with his image today. I'm going to stick with my Henna and avoid any permanence. And for now, my kids will have to be content with changing up their temporary tattoos as well. Maybe by the time they are old enough, I will have built a better case against getting engraved.

The Land of Tweens

2009-08-06T20:38:00.001-04:00

I've just returned from a house with "tweens" and I am finding new happiness in the big issues my kids are facing at ages 5 and 3. Let's just say I am no longer annoyed with dealing with potty training or temper tantrums. I don't mind that my 3 year old speaks broken English and my 5 year old doesn't always conjugate his verbs correctly. And I have a new appreciation when I hear that both my kids think I am the prettiest girl in the world and want to marry me when they grow up. What lies ahead in the Land of Tweens is so much harder to deal with.

We just got back from visiting my husband's sister and her family in California. We spent a good deal of time with our niece, who is almost 12, and our 9 year old nephew. The language of a tween is somewhat funny, but after a few days I was wanting to lock my kids in a closet until they are 20. My nephew was constantly referring to his "mad skills" for everything he was doing, which was either playing a video game or bouncing / throwing / kicking a ball in the house. And when he wasn't cheering about his own "skilleage", he was shouting about how "awesome" everything else was. My niece overused the word "dude" and that is an understatement. And, it seems she has a different dialect from her brother where every sentence must start with either "Oh my God" or "like"; and sometimes with both. Every sentence out of her mouth was said with a certain fast tempo and intonation made famous in 1983 somewhere in the San Fernando Valley. I had to keep reminding myself that it is in fact 2009 and we were actually in Northern California, not Southern California.

But the trouble with tweens does not stop with the language barrier. No, there are many other reasons to want this transition phase to be far, far away or maybe even nonexistent. Over dinner without the kids, my sister-in-law filled me in on what is stressing her lately. Apparently she is now dealing with her tweenage girl at parties playing "Truth or Dare" and wanting to pair up to go to the movies without adult supervision. So far, my sister-in-law has been keeping a short leash on her daughter. At first I kind of laughed to myself that my sister-in-law was overreacting. Who hasn't played "Truth or Dare" or some version of "Spin the Bottle" in middle school? I know I was going to parties and the movies with boys in middle school and it was all innocent stuff.

But then my sister-in-law filled me in on the "Lipstick Party". If you don't know what this is, stop now and go look it up. I don't want to be the one to break the news to you of what is to come for your kids when they are the tender age of 11, but needless to say it is a little more advanced than what I was expecting for this age group. Oprah exposed Lipstick Parties, also known as "Rainbow Parties" awhile back, but I missed that show. And since I never went to a party when I was 11 where boys were collecting lipstick marks on a certain part of their anatomy, this bit of information was a little startling to me. And no, it is not a myth. My sister-in-law does not watch Oprah either and she was well versed on this topic. I actually consider my sister-in-law to be pretty socially naive, so I fully believe that if she is aware of this, it is happening.

So with that shocking lesson on what today's tweens are up to, I left dinner that evening wanting to go home and freeze my kids at the age they are now - forget just putting them in a closet until they are past their teens. I am so not ready for this. And how terrifying to think that my son will be 6 soon. I only have 5 more years to try to figure this all out. And I should probably be prepared well before then. So, as I keep this troubling revelation on the back burner to simmer, I am going to embrace my 5 year old's afternoon meltdowns when he needs a nap and lack of independence with brushing his teeth or combing his hair. He cannot grow up slow enough.

Pancakes Save the Day

2009-07-14T09:49:00.001-04:00

We ran out of frozen Eggo waffles and I didn't realize it. My kids don't ask for waffles every day, but I usually keep the freezer well stocked. However, we have been at our beach house a lot in the past month and I have to say that my grocery shopping has not been consistent. This morning, our first morning home in a while, my 3 year old woke up in a bad mood, but found a smile when promised some waffles for breakfast. You can imagine my horror when I opened the freezer to see the shelf normally full of Eggo boxes was empty. It is never empty. I actually started pulling things out of the freezer because I could not believe that we had none. After thoroughly searching behind the ice cream and bags of frozen fruit, I had to break the bad news. And I knew exactly what was coming: screaming, crying, and tears. Lots of tears. What could I expect from his already fragile state? When my 3 year old wakes up in a bad mood, the smallest thing can set him off. He really needed those waffles. I really needed those waffles.

So, I found myself making pancakes this morning. For me this is an unusual occurrence in general and especially on a weekday. I am not a big breakfast maker. I'll make paninis to order for lunch and a huge dinner every night, but breakfast; not so much. We are always rushed in the morning and the thought of cooking something seems too overwhelming. Pouring some cereal in a bowl or putting an Eggo in the toaster seems like much less of a commitment to cleaning up a kitchen before leaving for the day. But the horrible screeching coming from my child forced me to reconsider. I don't like to give in to bad behavior (a kid crying to get what he wants), but I guess I was feeling generous this morning. Or maybe I was taking the easiest way out; anything to stop the crying.

Growing up my mom made breakfast for us almost every day. I don't know why because I don't remember asking for anything in particular and probably would have been just as happy with some sugary cereal. She greeted us every morning with pancakes or waffles or oatmeal, or eggs and bacon. To this day when we are all at the beach, she still would rather cook us all breakfast than let us just go out to the cafe. I appreciate her efforts now and I'm trying to figure out why I'm not living up to this Betty Crocker status. But, thinking back and remembering these breakfasts, I also remember my brother and I leaving for the day - leaving my mom behind in the kitchen still in her bathrobe with a pile of dirty dishes and pans. That would be the difference. I need to leave the house in the morning, put together at the very least in some cute work out clothes. That is what keeps me sane and happy.

The homemade breakfast exception today was also for sanity and happiness for us all. The pancakes topped with some defrosted frozen fruit brought smiles to both kids instantly. I got several thumbs up when their little mouths were stuffed with pancakes and I got a "Mom, you are the best pancake cooker ever", when they were finished eating. As it turns out, it didn't take too much effort to make breakfast and clean-up, and it was worth the smiles. But, I did end up running an hour behind my usual schedule and was still in my pajamas for most of the morning. Worth it for special occasions, but I still don't think I'll make this a habit.

A Moment's Peace

2009-07-07T11:36:00.001-04:00

As I was showering this morning my 3 year old came busting into the bathroom. This is not an unusual occurrence. In fact, there are two doors to my bathroom (neither of which has a working lock), so sometimes there is almost a parade route running through my master suite while I am showering. This morning's interruption was to show me something he had built with the Legos that were supposed to be keeping him busy while I showered. I was a little annoyed, but still came out of the shower to see his creation. After the fourth time of him barging in this morning and letting all of the warm steam out of the bathroom, I was really annoyed. Is it really too much to ask to shower in peace?

Yes, it is too much to ask with kids. There is very little alone time when raising small children, unless someone else is watching them. I may be in the minority, but I don't have a Nanny. I used to rely on naps, but naps in my house have long been a thing of the past. So this summer without school, without naps, or a Nanny, I am in high demand. The second I go into the bathroom, my kids suddenly and urgently need me. If the phone rings or there is someone at the door, they come out of the woodwork to cling to me. Even when I try to place a stealth outgoing call from a far corner of the house, they have some sort of dial tone detector that allows them to find me, rendering a conversation impossible. As I am typing this right now, my 3 year old is crawling up the back of my chair to snuggle in behind me. His little hands wrapped around me is sweet, but he is only here because he had some sense that I was trying to concentrate on something and needed a moment alone.

All of this constant attention from my kids can be draining. Until I had kids clinging to me all day, I didn't understand the toll it can take. There are some days when my husband gets home from work and I ask him to please not touch me or talk to me. I know that sounds harsh and he has trouble understanding, but after 12 hours of little people talking at me incessantly and groping me, I really need a moment of peace. Can moms suffer from Sensory Overload too? I think I just described a text book case.

So, today after the fifth time of being called out of my warm shower to see something my 3 year old built, I thought about getting the locks on my master bathroom doors fixed. But I also thought about how much my kids crave my attention right now. I am their world and that is a good feeling. I'm torn between wanting my moment of peace now, but knowing that all too soon, I will have plenty of moments where my kids will be too busy for me. I may wait to get those locks fixed and stick to showering at night after the kids are in bed.

Skin Deep

2009-07-01T22:52:00.001-04:00

I have some work to do. The other day, while we were standing in line at the Post Office behind a tall man, my 3 year old said to me (aloud), "that guy is brown". My first response was "What?" because I thought I didn't hear him correctly. When he repeated himself for a second time it was more of gasp. Yes, he was "black" or "African American", or whatever the current politically correct term is, but I don't think "brown" is it. Fortunately, the man didn't hear him say it and he didn't notice my "shushing" either. Just a minute before, the man had been smiling at my 3 year old who was doing his usual performance in line - various songs and dance. I had noticed him because I thought he looked familiar; it was Aaron McKie of the Sixers. My 3 year old noticed him for a different reason; he looked different than himself.

When we got back in the car I started to explain why we can't really label people by color and I realized that while it makes sense to me knowing our country's social history, it made no sense to him. Obviously, my 3 year old was making an innocent observation that was literally only skin deep. He and my 5 year old make these same types of observations at home about my dark complected husband. In their opinion he is "light brown", while I am "dark white" or on a summer day "light tan". They don't equate skin color with making anyone anything but look different. To them, noticing someone's skin color is no different than noticing hair color. So, it was no wonder that my 3 year old's eyes started to glaze over when I went into my usual spiel about how no matter what color a person's skin is, the inside is the same - same heart, same mind, same feelings. Blah, blah, blah. He didn't care, because he never thought otherwise.

Every year around MLK Day, I get onto the same topic with my older son who always has lot of questions about this holiday. Each year I explain who Martin Luther King, Jr. was, how he died, and the importance of his life's work for civil rights. I go through my same speech that skin color is only an appearance and that all people are really the same despite how different we all look. This year I thought he really got it. But then he spent the rest of the day pointing out to me any "black" people we saw. Although he was following that up with "they are just like me", I was at a loss. I don't know how to get my real point across without making a point that I didn't intend to make. I didn't try to draw attention to skin color, but I did.

How do I expect them to grow up thinking all people are equal if I keep pointing out differences to make my point? I could just leave it alone and say nothing, but they do notice color and I'm concerned what kind of message they are getting on their own. I'm concerned that most of the diversity my kids see in our community is on the other side of the counter at McDonald's or in the check-out lane at Genaurdi's. I don't want them to correlate skin color with any one career or lifestyle, good or bad. I do want them to optimistically view all people as having equal potential and opportunities. I want them to know and believe that a person from a different background than their own can achieve great things, just as I assure them they can.

So, I have my work cut out for me. And, I don't have that figured out just yet. I do know that prejudice is a hard thing to explain to a child that has never experienced or witnessed it. But without this knowledge it is pretty hard to explain why they can't just state the obvious. If the person in front of us at the Post Office had blue hair, it would be a different conversation. Life is truly wonderful viewed through the eyes of children. Wouldn't this world be a better place if we never lost that view?

Temporary Insanity

2009-06-24T22:32:00.002-04:00

I've thought now for about a year that I was done having kids. I have two boys that are 2 1/2 years apart. If I was going to have more, I would have planned on that over a year ago, so my third would be spaced the same. People tell me quite frequently that I "need" to try for a girl; that someone as "girlie" as me should have at least one girl. Other people remind me that "3 is the new 2"; it is becoming more common to have 3 kids instead of just 2. I usually blow these comments off because I've been pretty sure of my feelings towards having more kids - not going to happen. I was pretty sure until I had a moment that I questioned my stance.

I was helping out some friends today with getting their kids to and from camp and a birthday party. I had between one and two extra kids in the car throughout the day and I have to admit, I really liked it. I liked having all the chatter in the car and when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw extra faces, I wondered why not have more? Sure, today was a novelty, so there was no fighting or whining in the car; but I was still shocked with myself that I would even for a moment consider having more kids. I can't explain the feeling I had in a car filled with kids, but it was a good feeling. I guess I really like being a mom and I wanted more. Could Motherhood be addictive?

If it is, I have a few problems with supporting my addiction. For one, my husband has been very clear since our second son was born that he is DONE having kids. He has informed me numerous times that if I would like more, I will need to find someone else to father them. Kidding aside, we have had real discussions about having more kids and he would be open to considering the idea if it was what I really wanted. But, that's my second problem; I don't think I really ever want to be pregnant again. I do the whole pregnancy thing pretty well, a hidden talent, but I don't really enjoy it. The first time I was pregnant, I was excited. The second time, I just wanted to have the baby without having to grow it. But, that leads me to my last issue; I don't want to have a baby in my house again. I am so happy with the ages I have now. My car today was filled with those same ages and it was fun. We are done with cribs, high-chairs, and diapers; and I am very happy about this. I am just not a baby person. I can honestly say I have never thought, "I'd really like to have a little helpless crying person come live with us and keep me from sleeping for 3 months". That is something I am still sure will never enter my mind.

So where does that leave me? Perhaps adoption? I could fill my car, my house, and my life with children instead of infants. Its something to think about. But, so is just car-pooling more often. Today's moment may very well have been a moment of insanity instead of clarity. And, if I'm jonesing for more kids, I could maybe just get a quick fix by carpooling.

My Guy

2009-06-16T16:00:00.001-04:00

I am fully aware that I spend most of my time ranting on my blog, versus raving. My husband often questions that maybe I complain a little too much. But who really wants to read about how perfect my life is? That's not interesting. There's nothing to bond over that. I think my husband takes it personally if there is anything about my life to complain about. He does after all, get the brunt of my bad days, whether deserved or not. I try not to complain about him, but I can't help it if some of the things he says or does are just "blog worthy".

I like to tell the story about my Mother's Day gift last year - it was a Wii and a new flat screen TV only hooked up to the Wii. As in no cable hooked up and just a mere 20 feet away from another TV in our media room. A kind of Wii shrine. I was out with my older son for the day and when we returned there was the new TV fully installed on the wall in the playroom and all kinds of Wii paraphernalia. Surprise! Happy Mother's Day! The story is very funny at my husband's expense because the gift was so obviously not for me. When would I ever have time to play video games? And what makes it even funnier is how hurt he was when I suggested the gift was more for him and the boys. My five year old even said to me "silly Dad, he bought Wii for a girl". I agree. But, the part that I often leave out of the story is that I did also receive a Rolex from him the week before. So, I wasn't actually expecting a big Mother's Day gift that year. Yes, he's not such a bad guy after all.

And before you question whether I only like him for his gifts, let me set the record straight. Yes, yes, yes I get great gifts. But, he is also my best friend and biggest supporter. I have known my husband since he was 14 and could not have guessed then what kind of partner and father he would become. Luckily for me, he is deeply invested in both roles. Even on those bad days when he walks in from work to me blaming him for everything wrong with our kids, he will still tell me so sincerely that I am doing a great job as a mother. The gifts are just a perk.

So, although my husband will undoubtedly continue to inspire some of my writing as he is not perfect; he will never be on time to anything, he will never listen to me the first time, and will never kick his Blackberry addiction. He will also continue to inspire me as a person. No one person in my life has ever believed in me more. I'm glad he is my guy. Happy Anniversary and Happy Father's Day!

Invasion of Space

2009-06-09T20:24:00.001-04:00

Let's get something straight. You may think your kids are the cutest creatures on the planet and I won't argue with you, but please don't assume that I share the same thoughts. Why do some parents think that everyone sees their kids through the same adoring eyes that they do? Lot's of people tell me that my kids are cute. Strangers give my kids compliments all the time, but I never assume that those people actually want to hang out with my kids. From a distance my kids are cute, but up close they are just gross little germ infested kids. I love them and I don't mind their sweat and snot, but I would never assume anyone else wants to be subjected to that. I've seen and recognized the horrified look in my child-less brother and his wife's eyes when my filthy children come racing towards them to give them a big sticky hug. I get it, but why do so many parents not get it?

A case in point: My husband, my 3 year old, and I were sitting by ourselves watching my 5 year old's t-ball game. A little boy we've never seen before toddled over to my 3 year old's chair and stood there staring at him. At first, we all said "Hi", trying to be polite, but my 3 year old was not interested in this kid being so close to him. The toddler crept into my 3 year old's personal space and started leaning on his chair. My 3 year old said "No" a few times and looked horrified. Then, I noticed the stream of snot rolling out of this kid's nose. A second later the coughing began. My husband and I looked around to see who this little monster belonged to and we located the dad sitting a short distance away watching with delight that his little boy was "making a friend". The snot kept rolling and the little boy started grabbing for my 3 year old's water bottle. By this point, my husband and I were staring down the dad hoping he took a hint that maybe we weren't enjoying his kid's company. When my 3 year old started crying because the snotty little boy wouldn't stop trying to take his water bottle, we finally had to take action. We had to ask the dad to please take his son back over to his area. We shouldn't have to ask, should we?

It seems to me there are certain "social rules" regarding how we interact in public and the general respect of personal space. As adults, if a stranger approached us and stood staring at us or grabbed for our food, this would not be okay. We would ask them to leave, walk away, or maybe even call security. So, why would we allow our children to bother strangers, even if they are other children? Sure, children don't know any better. They don't understand that the whole world isn't actually their playground and that not everyone is their friend. I'm not suggesting that we strip children of their innocence, but parents do need to set up some boundaries. Your children may be social invalids, but as parents (and adults) you should not be. If your child is obviously bothering someone, it is time to step in.

This past weekend my 3 year old was accosted again. Maybe he is just that cute? The four of us were sitting by the Art Museum steps listening to free live music and eating water ice when another little toddler came waddling up to us. The mother was following close behind, but made no attempt to steer him out of our direction. He went right for my 3 year old. The child's mother actually said, "Oh, you're making some new friends", as the toddler tried grabbing my 3 year old's water ice. Yuck! My 3 year old was visibly upset. The mother finally grabbed the toddler, but only after he tried for a second time to get his drool covered hands on the water ice. Did it really need to go that far? I do think that this should just be an understanding among parents. Am I wrong?

So, just to be clear, personal space surrounds all people, big and small. If I see your child and I invite them to come sit with us, or offer them some of our food, then we're cool. If your child toddles over to us and we say "Oh, its okay", then you can let your kid hang out with us. But really, unless there is an invitation, please reel your child back in. In return, I promise to continue to do the same. You will not be subjected to my kid's dirty hands, snot, or general invasion of space. I will continue to keep them on a short leash. Yes, there is a grace period because kids can be fast. But please know, that I never assume that you are as happy to see them as we are.

Hate the Playdate

2009-06-03T13:07:00.001-04:00

I really don't like hosting play-dates. I dread them. I see other mothers picking up extra kids in car line all the time and I don't know how they do it. My two boys play great together at home. I can count on a good two hours every day of my kids playing quietly together using their imaginations to go on adventures around the house or build elaborate Lego structures. There is laughter and the occasional fight, but overall our house is pretty peaceful most afternoons. But, when we throw more kids into the mix all Hell breaks loose. And usually it is by no fault of the guest. Play-dates do something chemically to my kids to make them crazy. The minute our guest gets into our car or steps through our door, all rules known to my children are no longer recognized by them. And any control I had over them disappears. The word "chaos" comes to mind.

Play-dates also make the mean mommy in me come out. The cranky unhappy mommy. But really, when I arrange these play-dates I don't expect to find myself saying "don't put race cars in the fish bowl", or "no Purell on the cat". And, what is the right reaction when you find your kids and their friends trying to "wash" the dog in the upstairs hallway with a pan of water and the kitchen sponge? I can stay calm, but I'm not happy. I was really not happy when I came into the kitchen to find my son and his friend had climbed onto a shelf and ripped it, molly bolts and all, out of the wall. The sight of a hole in the wall and plaster all over the floor makes me very cranky.

I normally am very proud of my kids' judgment. They normally possess good common sense, or at least the sense of what would be allowed and what they should maybe ask to do first. Play-dates impair this judgment severely. I wish I knew what happens in their little brains to make them crazy when their friends are over. Their voices are louder and higher pitched, and they move ten times faster than they normally do. Maybe its just excitement, but I can't get through to them. My kids stop hearing me and I get a little dizzy with them running circles around me.

Hosting a play-date becomes a very time intensive afternoon for me. For damage control, there is an obvious need for me to be within earshot of them at all times. Often I stay close enough that I can glance at them if it suddenly seems a little too quiet. If I'm not watching them, I find myself watching the clock, counting down the minutes until the play-date and the alien invasion of my kids is over. That is no way to spend an afternoon.

So, I commend those moms who do frequent play-dates. Kudos to you. My limit is one a week. I will gladly meet for a play-date at the park, or lunch with the kids, but I know my limits. Maybe that makes me a selfish mommy to limit how many play-dates we host each week because it makes my life easier. But regardless, it makes me a much happier mommy. A happy mom makes for a happy family. There is a direct correlation there.

Party Planning

2009-05-28T21:59:00.001-04:00

My youngest son turned 3 yesterday and as requested by him, I threw him a "tractor" party. He picked the theme and I planned the party. Yesterday's party was a tractor driven hayride on a strawberry farm followed by a picnic. There was a farm scene cake, fresh strawberries from the farm, and parting gifts of treat filled individual toy barns. And I should mention that the birthday boy was in full John Deere uniform with a green John Deere baseball hat and t-shirt. Over the top? No, just keeping up with the other parties on his social calendar. The preschool birthday party has become so much more than a back yard gathering with ice cream and cake.

Throwing a preschool aged birthday party can be quite involved if you let it. And, I do. Its a creative outlet for me. Sure, many kids could be happy with any simple party as long as it involved cake. But, that's just not me. And apparently, its not my kids either. They have latched onto the idea of themed parties and there's no stopping them now. My kids might not look anything like me, but when I see them spend hours paging through their Oriental Trading Company and Party Express catalogs dreaming up their next party, I know they are mine. When its time to actually plan their next birthday, they throw an idea out there and my work begins.

The planning of a kid's birthday party is serious stuff and can take up some time if you are planning multiple parties a year. You have to scout locations in advance and coordinate them with different theme options. Yes, you can have a great party at your home and I have done this several times. But, I would now gladly pay someone else to host the wild bunch and clean up. Then there is the question of entertainment if the venue does not provide some activity. The cake has to be ordered, or if you are talented enough, designed and made. And lastly, but definitely not the least important piece, is the all anticipated goody bag. The goody bag is gold. The party is a bust if the goody bag is not awesome. It is the rock star SWAG of the preschooler's world.

Yes, there was a day when I threw real parties with such fervor. I focused my energy on the perfect cocktail and appetizer. I had themes that didn't involve the latest Disney/Pixar movie and my husband and I packed an apartment or a house with a lively mix of people with good music and conversation. There were no goody bags, but our parties were still popular. I might even say some of the more wild ones were legendary. Do I miss those parties? Oddly, no. We still have a few gatherings every year, but I now find it so much more enjoyable to plan a kid's party. For as much work that goes into the details of a kid's party, there is so much less stress about the actual party. The guest list is easy: neighborhood gang or preschool class. Food choices are easy: pizza and juice. There's no calculating which group of friends to invite, what food to serve, and what music to play. With a Fall and a Spring birthday to plan a party for, I honestly have no desire to plan many other types of parties.

I may put a lot of effort into these giant events for pint sized people, but there are great rewards. Nothing beats the smiles on my kids' faces when they are enjoying their party. My heart melted yesterday when we were driving out to the farm and my birthday boy said to me with a little voice filled with anticipation, "Mom, I am so excited for my party". How many more years will I really have to do this for my kids? Those tween and teen years will be here soon enough and the hugs and kisses for the "best tractor party ever" will be gone. I realized again yesterday that I will do anything to see pure happiness on my kids' faces. Pure happiness for them is also bliss for me.

School of Rock

2009-05-19T16:00:00.001-04:00

It seems there are two schools of thought on what music you listen to with your kids. There are those who drive around all day with Raffi blaring for the sake of their children and there are those, myself included, that cannot bare to listen to kid's music. It actually makes me cringe to get into a car with sing-a-long music playing. I won't do it. And I think my children are better off for it.

Sure, my kids have all of those annoying CDs. We own Raffi, Laurie Berkner, and The Cat's Pajamas. And they do listen to them in their rooms, often at night when they are falling asleep. And, I will admit that on occasion, you will find the "Cars" or "High School Musical" movie soundtracks in my car. Yes, I will admit to listening to those on occasion and I am not ashamed to say that I may even know the words. But, they are music with actual content. They are not songs about baby whales or belly buttons. On most days though, if you were to hitch a ride with us, you would be listening to honest to goodness real music.

I've realized that the first song my 5 year old ever learned the words to was not a kid's song. Once when he was 2 we were in the grocery store and he started singing along with the Muzak, belting out the refrain "Catch My Disease". It didn't even occur to me that him singing was weird until an older woman passing us in the aisle started looking at him funny. It was too hard to explain that he was just singing along with the Ben Lee song that was playing overhead. I just let it go, but I was kind of proud of him that he knew the words, even if they were strange to hear out of context. My kids have been subjected to my taste in music their whole lives and I would have to say they are more comfortable with the music on the radio than any CD they may have in their room.

I love that my kids can name all four Beatles and can recognize a Fleetwood Mac song from the sound of Stevie Nick's voice. I love that my 2 year old will ask for Jack Johnson by name, even if his favorite songs are off the "Curious George" movie soundtrack. And, I'm also loving that they are discovering their own taste in music. Sure, this will evolve over time, but its cool to see my 2 year old grooving to the Beastie Boys and my 5 year old singing "Pour Some Sugar on Me". I've sparked an interest. They now ask me who the performer is with every song that comes on the radio, a test for my knowledge at times. And I quiz them on what instruments we can hear, which they are getting pretty good at identifying.

Should I be embarrassed that the first song my 2 year old knows the words to is "Brass Monkey" by the Beastie Boys? Or, that they both go around town quoting the local radio station's tag line "The Rock You Grew Up With" in the deepest voice they can muster up? I'm not. It is my music that we listen to, some of it current, some of it old, but I use it to teach them some popular culture. Last week we listened to Don McLean's "American Pie" in entirety. They came home that evening giving my husband a history lesson about Buddy Holly and his plane crash. This is how we pass the time in the car.

I would agree that if you were actually paying attention to the verse lyrics on some of their favorites, they may not be appropriate. But, they pick up the refrain and never hear or question the rest. So, I do take some pride in the fact that my 2 year old goes around the house singing "Hey Ho, Let's Go", quoting the Ramone's. And, I don't mind that my 5 year old likes to sing that he will "Rock You Like a Hurricane", quoting the Scorpions. I'm responsible for that. Music is something that my kids and I can share. Maybe as a mom, you really enjoy Raffi's greatest hits, but if not, expose your kids to something great. Let them see a part of you that existed before you made room in your life for G-rated things. In honor of the late Joey Ramone's birthday this week, put on some really great music and share it with your kids - whatever the genre may be. You can thank me later when your kids are humming your favorite song, instead of you cursing that you can't get Baby Beluga out of your head.

Great Expectations

2009-05-14T13:08:00.001-04:00

Is it wrong to want to celebrate Mother's Day alone? Every year since I became a mother it is always the same celebration: me spending the day with my husband and children. Brunch is usually involved and every year as we sit down to our meal, I realize again that truthfully, I would have a much better time if I was alone. Yes, I know we should be celebrating with our children because without them we wouldn't have this title, but for some reason every year I have this expectation that this day should be different than the other 364 days. I guess I expect to relax and enjoy my meal out. I agree to the celebratory brunches to avoid cooking and drag my children to places they probably don't belong, only setting myself up for disappointment.

One year we arrived at the restaurant for a special Mother's Day Brunch only to find that although with our reservation my husband had specifically requested a high chair, the restaurant had run out of them. They ran out of high chairs on Mother's Day, probably the biggest day for small children to be dining in restaurants. I had to sit through my meal with a squirmy 1 year old on my lap. And, the restaurant had been so considerate to seat us right next to the open wine racks, that I had no choice but to keep him on my lap. I foolishly had expected to actually eat my meal at the brunch in my honor.

I guess I think of Mother's Day as a holiday for Moms. And I find myself expecting to have the day off in a sense. But I'm now thinking that is just not a realistic expectation if I'm going to spend the day anywhere near my children. My husband told me this year that he thinks of Mother's Day as more of a "celebration of mothers", and maybe I should actually do more mothering on this day. Despite my husband's "hilarious" comment, he generally does try to make Mother's Day special. He always plans the brunch and usually starts off the day giving me a break and handling the kids. He'll change a few extra diapers throughout the day, but as the day drags on, I think he gets burnt out. By 5pm this year, he was asleep on the couch leaving the kids to fend for themselves and me to intervene.

I don't know if its wrong to want to be alone on Mother's Day. I certainly wouldn't judge a mother who decided to. For myself, I do enjoy the excitement my children have helping me celebrate. I've found its just wrong to have certain expectations for this day. If I want to relax and be pampered, then yes, maybe I should spend the day alone at a spa somewhere. But then, I think my children would be disappointed. Another mother was recapping her Mother's Day to me and she and her family basically stayed home for the day. Also, not what I expect out of Mother's Day, but maybe not a bad idea. She certainly didn't seem stressed by her day. It was just another Sunday.

This year I did find myself at a Mother's Day Brunch again. The Country Club this time, but the same scenario as always with my kids falling out of their seats, and me controlling the chaos. I sat down to brunch though this year with a different expectation. Its just another Sunday brunch. My friend with three kids at the table next to us beat us through brunch and commented that she was "so done", while her husband commented that we looked like we were actually having fun. I'm still not sure it was fun. But, I was pleasantly surprised that although my meal was interrupted a few times, I did finish eating. And although my boys were whining that they were finished before I even started eating, I did have time to appreciate that they are the reason that I am a mom. But, I also set the bar low. And, I wasn't disappointed when my 2 year old spilled his Shirley Temple; I expected it. It was just another Sunday brunch.

Super Moms

2009-05-06T15:25:00.001-04:00

A kid threw up next to me at Starbucks the other day. I posted a question on Facebook soon after: "What are the odds that I will get sick?" One of my friends, also a nurse and mom commented, "A nurse and mom? You are immune to bodily fluids". I hoped she was right. Do moms possess special immunity, a superhuman immunity? By most definitions, possessing a superhuman quality would deem one a superhero. Do we have special powers giving us superhero status?

The reason I was at Starbucks was to meet with a woman taking over a committee project I had organized. She, also a mom and multi-tasker, had to bring along her daughter in a stroller. About a minute into me explaining the details of the project, her daughter leaned over the tray of her stroller and puked. This was followed by a second eruption down the front of her shirt. The mom swooped in with napkins catching what she could, and with a second swoop she had the tray and most of the little girl's shirt cleaned off. There almost wasn't enough time for me to gag before it was gone - almost. This struck me as an example of the lightning quick speed that moms may share with superheroes. She was wearing an "S" somewhere under her sweater that day.

Of course, not all moms need to be nurses to handle bodily fluids with ease. We've all found bathrooms or receptacles that would make do for our child who is crying, or should I say screaming "I have to pee!" after only giving us 30 seconds notice. And, we have all had the encounter with the diaper explosion. Diaper disasters not only require quick reaction time, but also quick thinking. I once had to dress my 5 month old in just a diaper and my husband's fleece jacket for a 2 hour plane ride home because his clothes were destroyed by a malfunctioning diaper. Similar to superheroes in a jam, we figure it out and fast. We are problem solvers. There's no time to whine about the problem or lack of solutions. We make the best available solution work.

And, not unlike superheroes, moms also sacrifice themselves for the greater good. My friend from Manhattan brought her 2 year old son to visit us for the day last summer. After driving 2 hours alone with her little boy, he got out of the car, walked into my house and threw up on the floor. And this wasn't just car-sickness. My friend sprung into action. She scooped him up and got him to the bathroom and then proceeded to clean up the entire mess before I was even back from containing our dog in another room. After mopping my floor for a second time, she cleaned up her son, loaded him back into the car, and drove him another 2 hours back home. This was not the trip she had planned. We always put our children first, even if that means doing something we don't really want to. Although my Manhattan friend probably wished she had brought her super speedy invisible jet, she definitely brought her cape with her that day.

So, yes, maybe there is some truth to my Facebook friend's comment. I didn't end up getting sick, although snot seems to be more of my Kryptonite. Perhaps, I do have a special immunity and furthermore, special powers. I think moms are the forgotten superhero. We should be honorary members of the Justice League. We may not actually have flashy uniforms or gimmicks, but we do possess amazing powers, get the job done, and often save the day. Happy Mothers Day!

The Golf Widow

2009-04-27T18:02:00.002-04:00

The golf season has officially begun and I find myself in a new role - that of a golf widow. This will be our first summer as members of a country club and I'm not sure this is what I signed up for. I was the one with the connections to introduce us to the club and I went through the proposal process fully aware that the goal was a golf membership. Maybe I was counting on there being truth to the rumored 5-10 year wait list for golf. Maybe I was distracted by my husband's excitement at golfing again. But, regardless of how I got here, I am about to embark on a summer of single parenting the weekends while my husband is golfing.

The argument by my husband is, "what's the big deal, you take care of the kids by yourself all the time". Thank you for noticing and EXACTLY. That is exactly the big deal. I don't count on the weekends for blissful alone time, but I do count on sharing the load. I look forward to the weekend where the parenting duties get split up. I like the support when a death match breaks out over a toy; and now this spring, I appreciate the team approach to t-ball and soccer practices.

My husband's rebuttal is, "I work all week, when am I supposed to have any hobbies?" I don't have a good answer. I work all week too. And, if we want to get technical about the work week, I put in a lot of overtime. There are many nights that my husband gets "stuck on a call" or "stuck in a meeting" and misses the train.

My sister-in-law, a seasoned golf widow, has told me to "stand your ground". But how much ground do I really have? There's two of us and theoretically we should be splitting this parenting gig 50/50. We've established that we both work all week, so who should have the weekends off? I do have time during the week to run or play tennis when the kids are in school, so I don't always need my husband's support on the weekend to have hobbies. But, I'm also not happy with the expectation that I am always there to take care of the kids.

Since I do have hobbies of my own during the week, I will be as flexible as I can to support my husband's interests on the weekend. Maybe we can compromise for one round of golf a weekend. This discussion is tabled for now, but definitely not closed. He assured me just this past weekend that he is only golfing a lot now to build his handicap for the summer tournaments. Yes, you read that right, tournaments is plural. Definitely not closed.

The "P" Word

2009-04-22T21:39:00.001-04:00

I used to cringe when saying the "P" word. You know, "penis". I always felt uncomfortable, like I had no business uttering this word. That feeling definitely stemmed from my upbringing. I remember once when I was probably about 5, I have no idea what the context was, but I said the word in front of my Mother. Her anxious response was "Where did you hear that word?". She had to ask because she knew I didn't hear it from her. Certain words and topics were just never spoken or discussed in my house growing up. And, her line of questioning made me think maybe there was something wrong with that word.

Fast forward and I am now the sole female in a household of males. Having two boys, a husband, and a male dog, the word "penis" is used in everyday conversation at our house. For example, my 5 year old likes to refer to the opening in his boxers as his "penis pocket". Or, come to my house any evening at bath time and you will be sure to hear my kids comparing their penises in the bathtub. I decided to get over my hang up with this word and am now shocked sometimes how often I use the word "penis". But, I want to make sure my kids do not feel ashamed to talk about their bodies using the correct terms. Why should we make up a word for something when a word already exists?

According to my husband, my mother-in-law used to refer to it as a "dinger". Really? My 2 year old threw her for a loop when we had an entire car ride conversation about his new adventures in potty training. As you can imagine, the word penis came up more than a few times. She turned a shade redder with each indifferent reference he made. They are little boys and they see no reason why they wouldn't refer to that part of their body any differently than another. If their arm hurts, they would say their arm hurts. So, when we are at the beach and have been in the sand all day, anyone within earshot knows they have sand in their bathing suits and their penis hurts.

We do, of course, have a couple of rules regarding such words as certain topics might not be seen as "polite" in all situations. We don't encourage this as dinner table conversation and this is not a hot topic for the general public. Although, I did have another little boy on a play-date innocently point out to me that his Teddy Graham had a penis. I'm not sure I could see it. But, really, hearing a kid state the somewhat obvious is not horrifying. I just smiled and so did the other mother. If there was a split-second where his mother or I felt the slightest bit uncomfortable, we didn't let it show.

We really do learn by example. My husband and I have never once made our kids feel wrong for calling a penis a penis. And this word has just become a part of their regular vocabulary. This is a start. My hope is that our openness with them now will lead to productive open conversations down the road when we are no longer talking about just a penis.

The Inconvenient Truth

2009-04-15T09:08:00.001-04:00

Having a sick kid home all day can be a real inconvenience. I know you Working Moms have to deal with this; you can't go to work if you need to stay home with your child. But the same goes for us SAHMs. I'm a Stay At Home Mom who is now realizing that I am actually very rarely home.

The 5 year old has been home from school now for two days with Scarlet Fever. Don't get too alarmed, its just strept throat with a rash. But nonetheless, he is still contagious until tomorrow when he has had a few doses of the antibiotic. Most days I do have a 2 year old tethered to me, but we still get out, run errands, hit the gym, attend various committee meetings, etc. We pack in a pretty full day. With a contagious one, I am now tethered to both kids at home.

Yesterday was our first day at home and it felt like a time warp. Without my usual schedule, my brain seemed to stop functioning. I think I got confused why I was still standing in my kitchen after 9am. The thing is, if he hadn't been complaining yesterday morning that his ear hurt so bad, I might have pushed forward with our day as usual. He was otherwise pretty much asymptomatic. An early morning trip to the doctor's office did not work with my other obligations for the day.

I now understand why it was always so hard to convince my own Stay At Home Mother that I was sick enough to miss school. I rarely exaggerated my symptoms, but she rarely believed me. My illnesses were probably not too convenient for her either. Sick days at home became pretty special. It was not often that I got the small TV moved into my room and all meals served to me on a tray in bed.

However inconvenient, the truth was, I had to cancel my day yesterday. I made my calls and emails from my cell in the doctor's office waiting room. A throat swab later, I was making up a little bed on the couch in the den for the 5 year old to spend a sick day at home. When I turned on some cartoons for him and brought him his lunch on a tray, he said to me "Wow Mom, this is like I am really sick, this is really special". History repeats itself.

Being Brave

2009-04-10T14:45:00.001-04:00

I took the kids to see a movie today alone. This was a brave move for me. I knew it wasn't guaranteed to be a smooth trip, but I forged ahead anyway. So many things can go wrong with getting a 5 and 2 year old into the theater complex, into the bathrooms, in and out of the food line, into the theater with the popcorn still in the bag, into the seats, and then have them want to stay in those seats for the duration of the movie.

Thankfully, today's adventure did go smoothly with only one minor popcorn spill. But, when did this type of scenario define the bravery in my life? Before kids when I had a career, being brave was speaking in front of 200 people at a conference. Or, sitting with a family while their loved one was dying in the next room. I still think I am capable of doing both of these feats, but at the same time I am intimidated by what seems like the simplest task - taking two kids to the movies alone.

I remember my first brave act as a new mom. My first born was two weeks old and I took him for a short walk in his stroller. I drove to the park, got the stroller unfolded and the infant seat attached correctly. And when we were done with the walk, I got the infant seat back in the car and the stroller folded back up again. I remember feeling such accomplishment! And just one month prior to this I was working full time, managing dozens of patients and systems. How does this happen? Why is Motherhood so intimidating?

Perhaps its because nothing about Motherhood is as simple as it might seem. As mothers, we learn fast how true this is and become wary of each new task set before us. The summer my second child was born we were spending our weekends at my family's beach house about two hours from our home. There were quite a few Fridays where my task was to get the two kids and the dog to the beach alone. I learned after our first trip that took five hours due to nursing and potty training stops, that this was a rather difficult task and one to be very afraid of.

I continue to take on these tasks however, proving my bravery in any situation. I've braved a cross country flight with a 1 year old, an overnight stay with both kids, and I have a couple of solo amusement park trips under my belt. And with each new situation I build my confidence that I can handle anything Motherhood throws my way. My friend recently told me about her weekend away alone with her four kids. My immediate response was "Wow, you're brave". She followed with "I know, right." Right.

The Art of a Compliment

2009-04-09T22:52:00.003-04:00

My 5 year old appears to be a bit of a snob when it comes to making new friends. In his mind you are either his absolute best friend or you might not exist. He doesn't quite understand that you can be friendly with someone without pledging to be blood brothers. Breaking him out of his clique is something his preschool teachers have asked me to work on with him. Help him open up his circle a little.

I've started by teaching him how to make compliments. I think that if you can find one nice thing to say about someone, it makes them feel good. This is a nice gesture, but it is also a great way to break the ice when trying to interact with someone you may not know well. So, we have been working on finding those nice things to say. He is supposed to find one thing he notices on or about a person that he likes and tell them. He is not supposed to lie, he just is supposed to comment on the thing he likes the best. And he is supposed to be practicing with his classmates at school.

What is amazing to me is how well he listened to me and how effectively he delivers a compliment. Not only did he tell several girls in his class on picture day that they looked pretty or had pretty dresses, but I now receive the wackiest compliments at home. And these compliments flow from him without any obvious thought - he never misses a beat. I get a lot of "I like your shoes Mom" or "That is a really nice shirt". Usually because there is a bright color that caught his eye. I also get "You look pretty" or "I like your hair". Those seem to be his standbys, especially if he is sensing he is in trouble.

I had the pleasure of watching him interact with an adult friend of ours who was staying with us for the weekend. Our friend, Jay, walked into the kitchen one morning dressed to go out and the 5 year old hit him with "Jay, that is a really great shirt". Jay seemed a little confused by the compliment, but nonetheless had a huge smile.

My 2 year old is now following his brother's lead. Just the other day I got a "Mom, you look pretty today" - I was wearing my pajamas, glasses, and hadn't brushed my hair yet. I couldn't help laughing while thanking him for his kind words. This morning I was helping the 2 year old get dressed and he touched my chunky turquoise necklace and said "Mom, you look pretty today, I like these little rocks on your neck". Instant smile.

Its true - my thought on making compliments. I feel great when these little guys say something nice to me. And my smile is then contagious. They give me a great big smile right back, usually followed by an "I love you". I think we're onto something. Could we change the world with a compliment and a smile? Its worth a try.

Not Pregnant, Just Fat

2009-04-09T22:37:00.001-04:00

A friend of our family came over to babysit and we hadn't seen her in awhile. She had put on some weight and was wearing yoga pants and a fitted shirt that were kind of highlighting the weight gain. My then 4 year old asked her "Is there a baby in your belly?". I was mortified and I tried to brush it off by quickly saying "He asks me that too". My 4 year old quickly responded "No I don't Mom, you're not fat".

Cleaning up for the Cleaning Lady

2009-04-09T18:33:00.002-04:00

Here I am again, cleaning up because the Cleaning Lady is coming. Whenever I say it aloud to my husband or kids it sounds ridiculous. "You have to clean up because the Cleaning Lady is coming". But its true. You really do have to do some prep work for the Cleaning Lady to come do her work. She is here to clean, not straighten up. I don't want her wasting time moving toys, shoes, or stacks of papers around so she can clean. And I certainly don't want her missing anything because a surface is covered in Legos or trading cards.

Our Cleaning Lady comes every other Friday, so I go through this ritual every other Thursday evening. I go around the house putting things away. Is this extra effort worth it? I think so. Every other Friday my house is sparkling and someone else spent 8 hours making it that way. Of course, then I do have to go around again after she leaves and put things back the way I like them. She is very thorough and the drapes and picture frames are always askew.

Its funny that we hire people to do some of our work, but we are never fully relieved of the work or the inconveniences. At least not in my world. I suppose if I had a full time live-in staff of twelve, I could maybe not worry about anything, but I would still have to manage all of those people. I have enough trouble managing the Cleaning Lady and my husband manages the Lawn Guy.

So, as I spend tomorrow strategically moving the dog and kids around the house to stay out of the way of the Cleaning Lady, I will ponder is it still worth it? Of course it is. Absolutely. I won't be cleaning and will have plenty of time to play in the yard with the kids and the dog. And then we will have to clean it all up because the Lawn Guy is coming . . .

Sick Days for SAHMs

2009-04-09T15:04:00.002-04:00

I really wish that Stay At Home Moms got sick days. Or, sick days off, as my husband corrected me - we get plenty of sick days. We take care of everyone else, but when we are down, who takes care of us? No one. And the world at home doesn't stop or even slow down on our account.

Two winters ago our household was hit with the stomach flu. Both of my children were throwing up and a day later, so was my husband. It must have been Divine Intervention that kept me from getting the same bug because even being around all three I never got sick. If I had been stricken too, who would have cleaned up all of the messes, done the dozens of loads of laundry, and administered the saltines and ginger ale? My family got a break, having their care-giver not get sick too. I got anything but a break.

But why don't these breaks ever come our way? Why couldn't it have snowed the last time I woke up feeling too horrible to get out of bed. Maybe then my husband could have stayed home from work and taken care of things. Such is the plight of the SAHM. I woke up this morning feeling like crap only to hear two kids screaming that they were hungry . . .

Team Stay At Home

2009-04-07T08:55:00.001-04:00

I caught a segment on Good Morning America this morning where Cokie Roberts was promoting her new book "We Are Our Mother's Daughters". She made a reference to the ongoing feud between Working Moms vs. Stay At Home Moms. Cokie commented that women need to support each other without judging because what works for one woman and family, doesn't necessarily work for another. It got me thinking. How supported do I feel as a SAHM?

Staying home is not for everyone. Financially, the option for me to stay home was available. I had a career before I had my first child and I made a well thought through decision to stay home. I am happy with my decision and it has afforded me opportunities to be involved in things I couldn't be if I were at work all day. Even on the worst days at home, I don't regret it. When I am having a really bad day, I don't wish I was back at work, I just wish the kids would listen, or stop crying, or stop fighting, or, well, you get the idea.

Those of you that had a choice to return to work and chose to, can you just admit that you like working?? Just be honest. Just say you enjoy your work. I respect that. It doesn't have to mean you don't like being around your kids. Please don't tell me "I need to work because I need adult interaction" or "I need to use my brain". Are you implying that I don't do either of these things because I have chosen to stay at home?

There is one woman in my life that has made these very statements to me on more than one occasion and I can say with almost certainty that these comments stem from guilt. She has 2 children and has been voluntarily in and out of the work force at least 3 times in the last 5 years and it was not for maternity leave. She definitely has some inner turmoil over her decision to return to work.

A "Mommy Blogger" featured on the Oprah show yesterday suggested that this war we wage between the Working Moms and the Stay At Homes, is really an internal war within ourselves. My being at home makes you feel guilty for not being there and your suggestions make me question my role there. And it all starts inside with how we are feeling about our own decisions.

So, let's just be honest. And then, let's just accept that honesty without judging. What is good for one person is not good for all. Just admit that you like working outside of the home. That statement doesn't have to be followed up with any justification. I like being a Stay At Home Mom. Period.

Hello, "My name is . . ."

2009-04-06T17:57:00.001-04:00

I've been working on teaching my children some real manners. More than just the "please" and "thank you" manners. My latest push has been properly introducing yourself when meeting someone new. I distinctly remember my Grandmother being on this same kick when I was a child. She wanted us to shakes hands, make eye contact and say "How do you do?" I always felt that "How do you do?" was a little dated and goofy, but I guess this was coming from her generation. I am just trying to get my boys to at least shake hands, make eye contact, and say "Hello, my name is . . ."

So, practicing what I preach, allow me to introduce myself. I'm The Main Line Mom, a "Stay at Home Mom" of 2 boys, ages 5 and almost 3. I've been married for just about 9 years to a man I've dated since High School. We live in a swanky suburban area of Philadelphia (also known as The Main Line) dotted with beautiful estates - I live in the average sized house down the street from said estates.

Let me preface anything that will follow with: there was never any question for me that I would stay home with my children and I have no desire to rejoin the workforce right now. That being said, I've just started to really notice how ridiculous my once sophisticated adult life has become and I'm struggling a little with it. I don't know why it has taken 5 years for this to surface. Maybe it was adding the second kid into the mix? Or maybe, my kids are older than infants now, and I finally have a moment here or there to realize my frustrations. Before, I was just trying to survive Motherhood at any cost.

Whatever the case, I have really been inspired to write about it. I tuned into abc's sitcom "In the Motherhood" and then poked around on their website and it got me going. I'm not promoting the show itself as an award winning comedy (just yet, I will give it a few more episodes). But, I do really honor the premise of the show - Motherhood is its own crazy funny thing. Sometimes I find myself just laughing because I don't know what else to do. I shared a few of my stories on the In the Motherhood website and soon realized that sharing life's "funny moments" may make them actually funny. And so here I am, ready to share . . .