Now I Even Hate Bathing Suit Shopping For Other People

I didn't even like bathing suit shopping when I was skinny, mostly because I didn't realize I was skinny. My self-flaw finding abilities have always been extraordinary.

Is that how you turn a negative into a positive? I feel like it's not. 

But I thought it would be fun to find bathing suits for Ironflower, because not only is she actually skinny, she's not prone to insecurity. Plus, we actually like shopping together. I genuinely thought we would have as much fun bathing suit shopping as we do regular shopping.

Possibly related: I don't go to the mall very often. 

The first problem was that not everywhere had bathing suits available yet. But I had faith that we could overcome that.

The second problem was that apparently they only sell tankinis to young girls and old women, because every time we found a teen-friendly bathing suit, it was a one piece or a bikini. Ironflower hates one pieces, so she accepted that it was bikini time.

I really do get her hatred of one pieces, why doesn't everyone who makes bathing suits?

But it grew tough to maintain our can-do attitude when almost every bikini we found showed more skin than Ironflower was comfortable showing and/or was meant for lounging poolside, not actually swimming.

On the rare occasions we did find a tankini (Hi Target! I love you!), Ironflower hated the pattern.

In fact, I had no idea how much Ironflower hated patterns until this shopping trip. I tend not to wear them because at my size I'm afraid I'll look like a couch, but this is definitely not Ironflower's issue. I'm not sure what her issue is, but I'm pretty sure I'll wear a pattern before she does. 

The worst part was when Ironflower pointed to a tankini she liked. It was exactly what she wanted.

Except it was in the girls' section of Target.

I suggested hopefully that they might have it in a 16. But of course most of the reason we were looking for bathing suits is that Ironflower no longer fits into her kid sized 16 bathing suits. Dammit. 

In the end, she found two bikinis - one she can swim in, and one that is probably more for lounging. She's not in love with either one of them, but as she put it, "At least I don't hate them!"

So I just dropped way too much money on stuff she doesn't hate. Great.

Fuck you, bathing suit makers.

Posts from the Past #TBT

I tried to clean out my drafts folder. I was moderately successful, but there were a few half-written things I just couldn't delete. I clearly meant to add more to each of them, but now that I'm used to Twitter and Facebook updates these seems long enough to be published.

September, 2011

So it's finally happened. I've been dreading it since long before I had children, going so far as to hyperventilate during a dinner party at my then boyfriend's boss' house when that was ALL THEY TALKED ABOUT, for the love of Christ. I mean, I was a first grade teacher then, I could talk about kids much better than the average single, childless, borderline alcoholic. But it wasn't just kids they were talking about.

It was kids' soccer.

And now, now I find myself reporting on my kids' soccer skills in great detail.

I never meant to become a soccer mom. Even when Ironflower begged to play soccer and I dragged Lovebug into because I thought he should try it, I never thought I'd be giving my kids pointers during games. I never thought that I would care so much about how hard they tried, or how they handled frustration or how many times they tripped over their cleats. Despite years of dance lessons and never having played a game of soccer outside of forced experiences in elementary school gym, I'm way more emotionally involved in the soccer process than I have ever been in Ironflower's dance recitals.

WTF?

November, 2011

Recently a friend of Hot Guy's spent a couple of days visiting. He has an 18 month old daughter, so naturally I used this an an opportunity to talk about what my kids were like at that age. Because if you give me an opening, I will tell you a story about my kids. I try to make the stories relevant and/or amusing, but somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that my stories are only relevant and amusing in my head.

I suppose I'll quit when I wind up on STFU Parents.

Anyway, as I was sharing stories of Ironflower's (relative) youth, I had a moment of clarity. I realized that Ironflower was a lot cooler before she started school. At 2, her imaginary friend was an Allosaurus. She played Legos. She wore pants.

At not quite 3, she started preschool. She became secretive about her love of dinosaurs. She labelled Legos as "boy toys". She became obsessed with princesses. She wanted to wear dresses or skirts every day. Her preference for pink became an obsession.

Four and a half years later, we hardly ever talk about dinosaurs. She will wear pants, but only if there's a practical reason to do so. Princesses have turned into fairies and pink has turned into purple, but she still won't invite boys to her birthday party.

Girl Toys Are Lame, November 2011

"We have to find more pink stuff, Mom." I stared at my daughter, trying to conceal my horror. "That's where the girl toys will be. Where there's pink. "

She yanked me away from all the cool Playmobil and Lego toys and dragged me to the sea of pink.

It started, I think, at McDonald's. The girl toys were always pink and the boy toys were not. The boy toys came in many different colors and could be anything from cars to superheroes to spaceships to puzzles. The girl toys? Always pink. Usually dolls.

Before preschool and McDonald's toys came into our lives, we didn't have any girl or boy toys in our house. We just had toys. But I was weak. I forgot about my women's studies courses when my dinosaur loving daughter came home from preschool and announced that she wanted to be a princess. I caved in and bought her a crown.

When the Barbies came - gifts at her 4th birthday - I let it happen. After all, I was a staunch feminist and I'd played with Barbies. And dollhouses. I'd even had a baby doll. Besides, she still built things with her brother and knew everything there was to know about dinosaurs. The fact that she never mentioned the dinosaurs to her female playmates, well, that was a little disturbing. But I'd thought I was doing okay in the appropriate toy department (if only because Ironflower and Lovebug are 15 months apart and have always played together) until the day we let them spend their own money at Toys-R-Us.

Lego-obsessed Lovebug stood slack-jawed at the shelves of Lego sets. Hugmonkey stood beside him yelling "Lego!" excitedly. And Ironflower wanted to look for pink. She bypassed the cool Playmobil sets she used to love, the board games she used to love, even the crafts. She stood in front of the pink shelves, but not in joyous awe like her brothers. Instead she scanned the aisles slightly desperately.

Everything in the aisles seemed to be poorly made, overly priced plastic. Barbie, Moxie Dolls, Littlest Pet Shop. . .the list went on. Ironflower couldn't decide what she wanted. Not because she couldn't stick to her budget or because there were too many choices, but because somewhere deep inside, she knew it was crap. And yet her desire to be like the girls in her class kept her in that section. And I knew that I had failed.

The only thing that got her out of the sea of pink plastic was that they had the new Barbie movie* in a bin in the front of the store.


*The Barbie movies are surprisingly not terrible. They have good messages and stories and I'd love them if all the characters didn't look like Barbies.

Friday I'm in Love: What's Your Damage?

Heathers came out soon before I graduated from high school. It was so dark, especially when compared with my other beloved high school movies of the '80's  - 16 Candles, The Breakfast Club, Lucas and Say Anything. It was sicker, and funnier, than all of them.

There was a female protagonist, too. And the guy she liked turned out to be a jerk. Despite the violence, murder and strip croquet, I related more to Veronica Sawyer's dating life than I ever did to any of the other heroines of the time.

As far as I'm aware, no one I dated or liked in high school turned out to be a murderer like J.D. But no one turned out to be Jake Ryan or Lloyd Dobbler, either. At least not to me.  Plus, Veronica was flawed and bitchy and bitter, which was how I saw myself. 

Besides, how can you not love a movie that includes lines like, "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, " and:

I found this image on Pinterest and can't find a source. But it's so awesome I'm sharing it anyway. 

I even got my Dad hooked on the movie, which led to us seeing the Off-Broadway musical version in 2014. I enjoyed the musical but didn't really think about it again. . .

until Ironflower brought it up. Apparently, one of her friends had discovered the musical on YouTube. She enjoyed the songs and asked if she could see it. I had to explain that tragically, Heathers the Musical had not made it to Broadway - nor had it even remained Off-Broadway. I searched for a local production but couldn't find one at the time.

So I let her watch the movie with me.

It was darker than I remembered. But I still loved it and Ironflower actually liked it. Except for J.D. She couldn't understand why Veronica liked him in the first place, "He's obviously a stalker, Mom."

I really hope she retains this ability to assess boys accurately throughout her teen years. 

The movie didn't grab her attention the way the musical had, though. So, last month when I accidentally found a local theater company  performing Heathers the Musical,  I had to take her.
Then I discovered that they were doing a high school version, so I invited a few of her friends as well. Even Lovebug came.

The high school version, which I've learned is really called Heathers 101, removes the sex, drinking and most of the swear words, but keeps the violence. The writers of the original musical did the revisions for this version, including putting in a new song that they like better than the (extremely inappropriate, terrible and hilarious) Blue. 

I was really impressed with the production.

But not the theater, which was at a junior high several towns away and a good lesson for the kids in how lucky they are to have such a great theater at their school. 

I would recommend the musical even if you didn't like the movie that much. Lovebug was disappointed there weren't more deaths, but he enjoyed it without having seen the movie or being a musical theater nerd. I think Ironflower had him convinced there would be some kind of bloodbath.

He's going to like Hamlet, I think. 


One of my favorite songs: (from the Off-Broadway production.) Skip ahead to :57 in the video to actually see it.

I Learned Everything I Needed To Know About Parenting In One Day

These lessons have worked so far, but my oldest is only 13 so I can't guarantee they work after that. I'll let you know. 

Ironflower learned to walk late. I swear she would look at my face and cling more tightly to the table, instead of toddling off like she had been about to do. I wanted her to reach her milestones, of course, but I wanted her to do so without falling down. And then one day, as she creeped along the coffee table (baby-proofed with foam corner covers, of course), she slipped and whacked her head on the side.

Valuable parenting lesson number one: You can do everything right and they still might fall down.    

I was 8 months pregnant with Lovebug at the time and Hot Guy wasn't home. And I couldn't even call him, because he was literally on the radio at the exact moment it happened.

I'd been relying on Hot Guy to calm me down ever since Ironflower was born, so this was not good.

I remember Ironflower looking at me right after it happened, and I know the terror showed on my face. She didn't cry until after she looked at me. And soon we were both in tears.

She calmed down first. At least until I tried to put ice on the bump growing on her head. She did not want the ice. I explained this to the (saintly) pediatrician on call. His response? You're the parent.

That was valuable parenting lesson two. 

I put on the Wiggles and held that damn ice pack to her head while she kicked and yelled every time the Wiggles lost her attention. When it seemed like the bump had subsided a bit, I let her down to play again. Immediately she pulled herself up on the coffee table and looked at me. I smiled. She cruised along the table for a few steps and looked at me again. I didn't know if she remembered that that was where she'd fallen before. I certainly did, but I also didn't want her to be too afraid to try it again.

So I smiled and nodded. And she cruised around the whole room. She didn't start walking, because this was real life and not a movie. But she did not so many weeks later.

Valuable parenting lesson three: They're looking at you to see how to react.  And it's probably a bad idea to project that fear onto them, especially if you'd like them to make any progress. 

To this day, there are people who think I'm a calm parent and that I never freak out. They've actually said this to me and they weren't being sarcastic. 

I checked. 

These people have no idea that I'm basically freaking out at all times and neither do my kids. 

After circling the room, Ironflower eyed the ice pack still in my hand. I'd been too chicken to run to the kitchen 8 feet away while she was cruising. She reached for it and I gave it to her. She put it on her own head and I applauded. She put it on and took it off dozens of times while I read to her. I don't know if it really helped, but it was certainly more pleasant than me holding it to her head while she wiggled and yelled.

Valuable parenting lesson four: Don't do things for them that they can do for themselves. Especially if they don't like it when you do it. 

That Time My Kid Missed A Month Of School

Welcome back to those of you who probably didn't enthusiastically didn't vote for Trump. Also, I started this post a while back, but didn't finish it thanks to my much needed Trump rant. Anyway. . .

As I type, Ironflower is lolling on the couch on a Wednesday afternoon.

Again.

According to the letter I got about my older children's poor attendance records (which I got after Lovebug reached his 7th absence due to a 4 day fever/upper respiratory infection week before last), this marks Ironflower's 21st absence this year.

She'd be on her 22nd, but I made her go to school Monday (despite feeling very crappy, which made sense because by that afternoon she was vomiting and had a fever) and then get sent to the nurse just to prove that I'm not just letting her play truant because I'm too lazy to make her go to school.

I think she's had 5 stomach viri* this school year, including one which then turned into an upper respiratory infection which then turned into pneumonia that required 2 rounds of antibiotics. Which explains why she's missed the equivalent of a month of school, but not what the hell happened to her immune system. She's 12, not 2.

Though, to be perfectly honest, if puberty continues just like this - many illnesses, fierce independence and an unfailingly sarcastic wit, I will consider myself blessed. (I'm not sure the ever vomiting Ironflower would agree).

The most worrisome part of this whole missed a month of school thing is that she's only screwed up one test because of it.

Oh, and that it's quite possible the truancy officer is going to visit us. Or something. I don't quite know how it works in the 'burbs.

I think this must be karma. I remember judging parents whose kids missed a lot of school back in my teaching days, wondering why they didn't see the importance of daily attendance. Of course, if Ironflower is any indication, daily attendance isn't as important as I thought.

I'm just kidding, people ready to alert the middle school administration about my laissez-faire attitude.


*Or viruses, if you didn't sit through 3 years of Latin in junior high.

Let's Talk About Screens, Baby*

*With apologies to Salt-n-Pepa. 

Ever since I miserably failed at not letting my tiny people watch TV (Ironflower was 7 months old and teething, The Wiggles were the only thing that stopped her from howling. It's been downhill from there), I have at least tried to limit their screen time.

Unless they were sick. As there is nothing better to me when I am ill than a Law & Order: SVU marathon, I've always let them watch too much TV when they are sick.

But TV is not, and has never really been, the problem.

I originally started this post almost 2 years ago, when I was still blogging regularly (and I could still think of my children as tiny. Ironflower now has at least an inch on me and Lovebug is almost as tall as I am.) At the time, I had just discovered that the children were sneaking their Kindles into their rooms when they woke up in the middle of the night.

The consequences of that little rebellion were painful for all of us.

But of course screens eventually came back, if for no other reason** than Ironflower and Lovebug have laptops for school now. The new system involves severe guilt tripping and punishment for anyone who uses screens when they're not supposed to. There's also a list of requirements before you

can even ask for screens, which boils down to:  

Sometimes I feel like most of the parenting I do involves whether the screen list has been followed, because it's very rare that any of them just decide to ignore the list and play. Ironflower will sometimes, to read or draw, but even that it is becoming more rare. And Lovebug and Hugmonkey can play (unlike some children I've met), but they don't as much as I'd like. 

So I'm looking for suggestions that have actually worked in real life, not Parenting magazine life. Got any? 

**I'm lying. Their father didn't want to give up video games and I didn't want to give up TV or social media, either. Plus, it's the 21st century and we are not Amish. 

Bigger Kids, Bigger Problems

Ironflower and Lovebug's preschool teacher used to say that to me, as I dragged a screaming toddler (or two or three) off the playground. In those moments, I had no concept of what she was saying, so focused was I on just getting all the kids strapped into the car.

It popped into my head when I was at yet another pediatrician appointment with Ironflower and there was a screaming baby. The poor baby was very new and had clearly just gotten a vaccination. The screaming stopped so abruptedly that Ironflower was confused. "Pacifier," I said, "or maybe the mom is nursing for comfort." Ironflower nodded sagely before gripping my hand during yet another coughing fit. Poor kid got pneumonia in December and has been dealing with repeated colds ever since; they have now diagnosed her with asthma.

Which cannot be fixed with a pacifier.

Or a piece of chocolate.

Or even a nap.

Most of the time, I really love where my kids are now. I love the conversations we have, the jokes they make and the fact that I never have to strap them into car seats. I love watching them develop responsibility, especially when it means I don't have to get up early Saturday mornings to fix them breakfast.

But there's something to be said for being able to fix your kid's problems with a small piece of silicone*. Or by getting up early to make breakfast.

When a classmate doesn't want to be your kid's friend, or when your kid is struggling to learn how to read, fixing gets a lot more complicated.

Of course, later you don't even get to fix the problem. If you're lucky you might get an assist, or at least hear about it after the fact. Ironflower sobbed about math the other day; apparently she panics during tests and then she makes stupid mistakes and now she believes she will not get into advanced math in seventh grade.**

I barely have an assist here. Sure, I gave her some ideas on calming down during tests. But I have no control over whether she'll use them or whether she's placed in advanced math.*** AND THAT TOTALLY SUCKS BALLS.

THIS is why I miss my kids being little and this is what I want to yell to every frazzled mom of toddlers, past me included.

*I just had to Google what pacifiers are made out of , I'm so far out of the baby stage. 

** I was kicked out of advanced math after seventh grade for screwing up the mid-term, despite the fact that I got an A on the final. Not that I'm bitter, but I did point out to Ironflower that this was way more humiliating than not getting in at all. Oh, and I think I also mentioned that not getting into advanced math did not mean she wouldn't get into college. 

***I happen to think her math teacher is delightfully competent, so there's no way in hell I'd even try to over-ride her recommendation. 

Happy 10th Birthday, Ironflower!

Dear Ironflower,

Today you are 10 years old. Double digits, as you keep reminding me. I started blogging before you turned 3. I had to read the letters about you turning 4, 5, 6, 7,  8, and 9 to remind myself that it's not exactly shocking that you've been around for a decade.

You still love reading and animals and imaginative play. Even if that play now means making movies starring your American Girl Dolls. Your favorite color is now teal and you positively shun all things pink. Your birthday party "theme" was teal and zebra. You love Taylor Swift and Katy Perry, but you still don't like Justin Bieber or One Direction (thank goodness). The first song you bought for your iPhone was Bang, Bang, so you've definitely become a pop fan.

You have gone from grudgingly taking ballet to improve your overall dance skills to loving ballet so much that you're taking an extra hour of it every week. In addition to the many other hours you take dance and rehearse. In the last year you have gone from "I'll see what this company thing is like" to "I love competitions." You've worked so hard and it really shows, both in your skills and in your self-confidence. I love watching you on stage.

I also loved watching you on the soccer field. Even though you would describe yourself as "not the best player", and you've never wanted to do an extra soccer class or practice, you went out there every week and tried your best and cheered for your teammates.

This year you've started learning clarinet, as well as dancing and excelling in school and becoming really good at HALO and Minecraft. I am amazed at how you manage to keep up with everything as well as be such a good friend, loving sister and my favorite person with whom to watch Project Runway.

I feel so lucky and proud to be your mom,
Mommy

KizVuz Holiday Party 2014

This was the second year we were lucky enough to go to the KidzVuz Holiday Party. I can only hope we're lucky enough to go again next year, because my kids are already planning on it! 

After posing for pictures at the step and repeat, we went into the event space at Chelsea Piers. Which was awesome, by the way. The first thing we did was get frozen yogurt from 16 Handles. In addition to their awesome name, they had awesome yogurt too. 

Before their yogurt was even finished, the Ubisoft video game area had suckered the kids in. Hugmonkey was in such a hurry that he let me finish is frozen yogurt, so it was a win for everybody. I let the kids play for a while, they checked out the new Rabbids game and Monopoly. They enjoyed both and I didn't understand either, which seems to be how video games work at our house. After I pointed out all the kids waiting eagerly for their turns, the kiddos agreed to check out the rest of the party.

Ironflower spent a lot of time at the School Specialty craft table. She made flowers and picture frames.

We also saw our friends from BatteryPop, where they were playing the promotional video Ironflower appeared in. Then it was on to iScream, where Ironflower asked me to add all of the cute pillows (especially the donut shaped one) to her Christmas list. We did get one of their blankets in our swag bag and Ironflower is totally in love with it. And if she wasn't? I would totally steal it because it is super soft and warm. 

While the boys weren't as into iScream's products, they were very happy with the candy art at the iScream table. 

I felt like this year I really got to talk to all of the people sharing their products and ideas and that made me so happy. Once again I didn't talk to other bloggers as much, except I finally got to chat with Gay NYC Dad, which made me so happy. I also had a nice talk with Jill from Scary Mommy, who was there to talk about her Thanksgiving Project. It's such a great cause, if you can help, please do. 

I managed to have those conversations while the kids were back with the video games. Because of course they went back to the video games. 

Before that, though, Ironflower got a braid from FiercelyFabNYC, which she really liked. We also talked to Emily from Ribbon Barrettes; definitely the most inspiring 5th grader I've ever met. She is selling ribbon barrettes (my fave thing in 1980) to raise money to help find a cure for Cystic Fibrosis. 

We spent a very long time in the HP area. First it was the art project while I talked to someone about printers. I really want a new printer. From HP. Then we played with the HP Stream laptops and tablets. I couldn't get Hugmonkey to ditch his long enough to make our Flipbook. Which is not surprise, except that later he was all about dressing up at the Broadway Kids Night table. 

The kids also had a lot of fun learning about the Gamma Heroes and playing an app involving them. 

Perhaps my favorite thing was discovering Sweet Loren's. It's frozen cookie dough, which normally doesn't thrill me. Not that I won't eat it - because of course I will, I love cookies - but there's a lot of bad stuff in most pre-packaged foods. This dough, however, is made with whole, unrefined ingredients. It's dairy free. And the cookies taste like Famous Amos ones. For real. They sell it at Whole Foods and I'm definitely going to buy some the next time the kids want cookies. 

I'm sure I've forgotten something, so make sure to check out more from the KidzVuz Holiday Party on Facebook. 

Big Hero 6

Thanks to an email from Sandbox Strategies, Game Mill Entertainment and Disney Interactive, the kids and I got to go to a screening of Big Hero 6 yesterday. I admit that when I got the email, I hadn't really heard much about Big Hero 6.

But my kids had off from school that day and my dad is awesome about driving us into the city for stuff (I hate taking the kids on the train. I also refuse to drive into the city. This could be a bigger problem, but between my husband and dad it's not. Yes, I am spoiled.) So I figured, "It's a Disney movie. It's gotta be decent."

The kids were just happy to get to see a movie in the theater. That before going to the theater we walked around Times Square was a big enough bonus that I'm pretty sure they would have sat through that horrible Dora movie they all used to love.

And then on our way in we got popcorn, drinks and 3D glasses.

It began to matter even less how good the movie was. We heard a couple of presentations first; one on the very cool NintendoDS game that continues the movie's story and one on the characters being added to Disney Infinity. I'm pretty sure Lovebug would have taken notes if I'd had a pen. The games look cool, but any game reviews will have to be written by Lovebug at a later date.

Big Hero 6 is the story of Hiro, a brilliant 14 year old and his group of equally brilliant friends. There are some sad moments, but the creation of Baymax (the large white being who sort of looks like what would happen to the Pillsbury Dough Boy if he went badass) mitigates them. I loved, loved, loved the characters in this movie. They were diverse, interesting, smart and not one of them fit some simple stereotype.

I think this might be the most subversive Disney movie ever.

I loved it.

And I don't think that it was recently turning six that made Hugmonkey sit so still in the theater. My kids were completely enchanted; they loved it too. We are all looking forward to watching it again with Daddy and honestly? There are very few kids movies I want to sit through once, let alone twice.

While there is humor in the movie, it's not snarky. There aren't a lot of jokes meant to appeal to just adults. And there is absolutely no romance whatsoever. I have nothing against romance (unless it's Nicholas Sparks - then I loathe it), I may have teared up during the wedding of The Princess and The Frog. But my kids aren't interested in romance. My daughter doesn't need the idea of a wedding always being the happy ending shoved down her 9 year old throat. And of course I'm gonna love a movie that turns smart nerds into superheros.

This is definitely worth seeing with your kids, no question.

What's Your Parenting Mantra?

I think the hardest thing about parenting - aside from the whole sending what is essentially your heart out into the world completely unprotected, plus the amount of vomit and snot you have to deal with - is that it keeps changing.

I remember when Ironflower was a baby and I took her to Target for the first time by myself. All these scenarios kept running through my head;

• What if she has a poop-splosion?
• What if she starts screaming and I have to breastfeed her in public?
• What if I have to go to the bathroom? Is it okay to put the carrier on the floor? Can I bring the cart in?
• What if she starts screaming and breastfeeding doesn't work? 
• What if someone tries to kidnap her?
• What if someone sneezes on her? 

It took a while for me to be comfortable parenting an infant, is what I'm trying to say. And just when I got comfortable with it, Ironflower started to turn into a toddler. She weaned herself. She started throwing things. And she got very, very opinionated. 

One night, (because of course it was at night after I'd taught all day and my very pregnant with Lovebug feet were swollen and sore) Ironflower fell into the side of the coffee table. The table had corner and edge protectors, but naturally she managed to avoid those and hit the hard side. I'm pretty sure both of us cried. 

Hot Guy was, I believe, on stage or on the radio  - someplace where I couldn't call him. Ironflower's forehead had a small cut and a growing bump. I tried to ice the bump and she fussed like she'd never fussed before. I called the pediatrician. 

Part of me - the part of me that wasn't a freaking out still new-ish mom crazed by the hormones of her second pregnancy - knew that she had no signs of concussion and would be fine. But I called anyway. The mellow doctor on call assured me that she would be fine and to apply ice (how I miss the non-hysterical medical care we got in the midwest). "But she hates the ice! She won't let me hold it on her head!" I probably wailed to the poor guy. 

"You're the parent," he said calmly. 

Oh. Right. 

So I held the damn ice on her head and by the next day she hardly had any bump at all. I, however, had toddler heel shaped bruises on my thighs and a healthy respect for my daughter's lung capacity.

I also had a parenting mantra that worked really well. "You're the parent," echoed through my head as we negotiated walking, talking, sharing, dressing and all of those other milestones that can make parenting young children challenging. It's all I want to say to the desperate newer moms in the Facebook groups I read, as they discuss how much their 2 year old hates the car seat/potty training/receiving the wrong color cup. When you've got an infant, your goal is to soothe them. That's not a good plan when your 18 month old is determined to run into traffic. Your goal has to go from soothing to correcting.

But now, now I've got kids who don't run into traffic. They don't scream if I give them the wrong color cup. In fact, they don't really care what color their cup is. It's liberating, but it's also terrifying. No pediatrician has helpfully provided a mantra for this stage. And while there's still correcting and soothing to be done, it's a lot more complicated than saying a resounding "No!" or nursing on demand.

The closest I've come is, "Don't raise assholes." And while I'm proud that my kids don't knock toddlers over in their haste to be first in line at the ice cream truck while yelling, "Moooooooom, give me money, don't be a bitch***!" I don't feel it incorporates the entire experience of parenting elementary school aged kids.

Though, to be honest, if more people adopted that as a mantra the world would probably be a better place.

Anyway, do you have a parenting mantra? Has it evolved as your kids have gotten older? 

***This really happened. Local readers, it was at Finch Park a few summers ago. 

Summer Notebooks: The Return

Even though my kids still have almost a month of school left, I spend part of every day prepping for their summer vacation. Some of it is just figuring out what summer activities they are going to do, since I don't send them to regular summer camp. But the rest of it is planning their summer notebooks. I'm not a fan of too many worksheets, but I'm even less of a fan of my kids forgetting what they've learned all year.

It wasn't until last summer, when they didn't have regular camp and I couldn't pretend that they were going to be learning enough all summer, that I realized that I needed to take action. But every time I looked at workbooks, even the "summer bridge" or ones by companies I liked, I got frustrated. Or rather, the teacher in me got frustrated. Tasks were too simplistic to be useful or were geared for kids who struggled with things my kids didn't struggle with. So last year, basically at the last minute, I made my own.

By next year I'll probably have mini binders and all kinds of stuff, but now I'm just using spiral notebooks.

Every morning, they have to do a certain number of pages (usually 2 or 3) before they can have their beloved screens. They can do extra pages if they want to earn more screen time later in the day. I correct it as soon as I can, and I make them come back and fix their mistakes.

Hugmonkey's summer notebook tends to be more similar to worksheets:

Last year there was a lot of tracing and matching uppercase and lowercase letters. This year we'll be focused on counting skills, beginning sounds in words and sight words. I also like to have him draw pictures of family activities as an introduction to journal writing. He can't read the directions, but his siblings can read them if I'm not there, so it works out well.

For the older kids, there will be a lot of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division fact review. (Even though Lovebug won't officially be learning multiplication and division until the fall, he's got the process figured out so he might as well start memorizing). I also have them write sentences about family activities or to answer questions we've been talking about as a family. My favorite thing to do is to gather up non-fiction books, assign them pages to read and have them answer questions pertaining to the pages.

They are both far more into fiction (as am I), so it's a good way to work on reading comprehension and get them out of their comfort zones.

I'm thinking about doing a summer series on my kids' notebooks, detailing how and why I have them do certain things and how to make summer notebooks for your own kiddo. But then I remembered that some of my regular readers are teachers or former teachers, so I'm not sure if the series would be useful. What do you guys think? Is that something you'd want to read about, or would you skip those posts?

Teaching Tuesday: Homework. Again.

"We don't have time for Harry Potter, do we?" Ironflower asked resignedly the other night. She had just completed her homework - after two hours of Theater Week rehearsal and an hour and a half of dance class. And a full day of school. Being pretty strict about an early bedtime (Lovebug gets up at 6:30am, every day, regardless of when he goes to bed - and that means the other two are always up soon after, regardless of when they go to bed) means that we don't get to Harry Potter some nights because Ironflower's doing homework too late.

And I loathe it. I guarantee my daughter learns more from reading Harry Potter with me and her brothers than she does completing the same kind of math problems she did in class that day and copying words she already knows how to spell.

I feel like homework was born out of some belief that kids don't learn from anything they do at home; that if we don't give them homework they'll fall behind. Which is bull. As if doing a worksheet can teach you more than reading, or figuring out how to double a recipe, or building a Lego model, or creating a game. I know of preschools around here that give homework; it kills me.

My kids go to this well-respected school with extremely high test scores. But the test scores have nothing to do with the amount of homework they are given. I don't even know how much the test scores have to do with the (copious) amount of test preparation that they do. The test scores have to do with the fact that the vast majority of the kids at their school come from homes where someone spent hours talking to them and reading to them when they were little, where someone took them to the park and the museum over the weekend, where someone is able to buy them plenty of healthy food to eat, where parents spend so much time and money on helping the school add things like Theater Week and science experiences and iPads, where their mothers did not drink or do drugs or starve during pregnancy, where everyone around them is encouraging and positive.

I would venture to say that our kids would do even better on the tests if we spent an hour every night talking to them, reading with them, making up games with them, playing games with them or taking them somewhere new instead of just supervising them doing their homework.

I think most parents get that learning shouldn't just stop at the end of the school day. But the countries beating us on international tests don't have their kids spend hours on homework. I think it's time to stop this (false) belief that homework will make our kids smarter. It's certainly not going to make them love learning, I can tell you that. The way my bright, curious kids talk about homework - and schoolwork in general - depresses the hell out of me. Teachers (around here, and in my old urban district, and probably in most districts) are required to give it, though - regardless of how they feel about it.

But I'm done. The next time Ironflower has to choose between completing her homework and listening to Harry Potter? I'm emailing her teacher and letting her know that I prevented Ironflower from doing her homework. And if anyone gives me any crap about it, I'm flooding the school board and the principals with data about how homework doesn't help elementary school students.

What are your thoughts and experiences on homework?

I Think I Need Help

Ironflower and Lovebug appeared in their Theater Week play Friday night. They were, of course, wonderful and it was adorable and I am so proud. Of them.

I was not so much proud of myself as I dragged us to the front of the auditorium and whipped out my iPad. This was after freaking out, thinking we were too far back in the line to get good seats (of course there was a line to go in and of course people lined up way early for it). In addition to recording every moment (even though there were many moments where you couldn't see either kid) of the show, I had my dad and Hot Guy taking pictures during the whole thing, too.

Note to self: White kids, stage lighting and iPhone flashes are not, perhaps, the best combination for taking photos that show faces. Lovebug is the taller one in the middle. 

But even more shameful than acting like the paparazzi staking out Lindsay Lohan at a nightclub, I totally waved at my kids while they were on stage. More than once. I held  bounced the iPad with one hand and WAVED at my kids with the other. Hell, at one point, when one of Ironflower's friends was on the floor near us, I waved at her too.

You know, when Ironflower was first teething and I went from "No TV until she's in preschool" to "Look, if the Wiggles make her stop crying for 15 minutes, she can watch the damn Wiggles at 7 months old", I grasped that actual motherhood might not look like I had imagined it. I realized that many of those things I swore I'd never do would turn out to be done on a regular basis.

But realizing your TV standards are unworkable is one thing, it's quite another to turn into a waving idiot. I mean, I realize that my kids haven't quite got a creative process and that Theater Week doesn't foster deep investment into one's stage character, but still. I was waving. While they were trying to perform. In a way I'd never do during a soccer game. In a way that would have made me cringe in horror if my own mother had ever done it to me. Did I mention I also tried gesturing to Lovebug to get him to stop messing with his costume? And that I started to mouth one of Ironflower's lines with her?

I'm pretty sure I'm just a step or two away from wearing t-shirts with their faces on them to all of their sporting events and performances. Or yelling, "Sing out Louise!" like that crazy mother in Gypsy.

Please stop me.

Friday I'm in Love: Blessed

I don't care if this makes me sound like I'm kinda full of myself.  I recently discovered this post I wrote during my first year of blogging and I've fallen in love with it.

11/11/2007

Blessed

I just discovered a wonderful blog called Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters. It deals with infertility, pregnancy loss and adoption and is an amazing resource for people going through those challenges. The sidebar has the longest blogroll I have ever seen, filled with blogs talking about people's struggles to become parents. As I read it, checking out a few blogs here and there, it was all I could do not to run upstairs and kiss my children. (Which would have woken them up, so I didn't. Barring natural disasters and other dangers, there's no way I'm waking them up. Because while I may be feeling joy at their existence, they would be feeling annoyance at being woken up and instead of a touching scene of love and cuddling, there would be tears and crankiness.)

I did not have Ironflower until I was 33. Not super late, but not exactly early, either. And I thought I would have trouble conceiving her. Because I was in my thirties. Because I was a smoker (I quit when I was pregnant - calm down). Because it seemed that all the mommies I knew had spent time "trying", charting their cycles and propping their legs in the air.

Instead, Hubby and I got lax about birth control. We were living together, engaged but not in any rush to make it legal. And surprise! Along came Ironflower. I spent the first trimester in a state of shock (when I wasn't too nauseous and tired to have any emotions at all, of course). I felt a bit like an impostor, not having even tried to get pregnant yet. But by the time she came along we were (sort of ) ready for her and for parenthood.

When Ironflower was 11 months old, we found out I was pregnant again. Four months pregnant. I hadn't had a regular cycle, what with the breastfeeding. My clothes were tight, but I'd attributed it to the chocolate I was eating to deal with the horrible conditions at work. The weird tummy flutterings? I assumed they were gas. Really. (I have ulcerative colitis and weird feelings in my tummy are pretty normal for me)

So I actually got pregnant with Lovebug while trying NOT to get pregnant. After the shock, and having to admit to the world that I was four months pregnant and HADN'T NOTICED, a whirlwind of activity began. Thus Lovebug was not forced to wear his sister's pink clothing or sleep in a purple butterfly bumpered crib.

But I began to feel guilty. Why had it been so damn easy for me? Why was I so blessed? I felt bad when talking to people who were struggling to conceive or adopt. I wanted to apologize, to say I'm sorry it was so easy for me. A little part of me always does.

But finally someone pointed out to me that if I wanted to feel guilty about something, I could also feel guilty about the fact that I get (more than) enough to eat, that I have a nice place to live, that I can walk, that crazy militias aren't roaming my town, that I don't live in a war zone. . . . . .

And so instead of feeling guilty about things I can't control, I'm working on feeling blessed. All the time, not just when I'm reminded of it. Even when Lovebug humiliates me in the grocery store, I am blessed. Even when Ironflower's whining makes me want to bang my head against a wall, I am blessed.

Merry Christmas Eve

For a lot of reasons, I did not send out holiday cards this year. Even though I so love getting them. Especially if they have pictures. So, as an apology (and an idea for a really short blog post), here's a digital card. Just for you.

At Least One of Us Is Growing Up

Yesterday - or was it forever ago? - it seemed like I spent my days comforting kids. Toddlers falling, babies needing to be held, preschoolers wanting their way, someone constantly needed cuddles and soothing words. Some days it was pretty damn exhausting. Some days I probably wasn't quite as comforting as I could have been.

How was I to know that only a few years later I'd watch my daughter get hit the face with an iceball and not comfort her?

I wanted to go to her. I wanted to hug her and comfort her. I wanted to yell at the boy who (admittedly accidentally) threw the iceball at her face. But instead I just watched her. I watched her tear up, cover her face with her hand and turn away from the crowd for a few minutes. I watched her not look to me, or to anyone else, while she calmed herself down. 

I repeated, "She knows where I am, she knows where I am if she needs me,," over and over to myself. Except that I must have started to say it out loud, because the mom next to me said, "She looks like she wants to handle it herself." I nodded. 

I knew that she did. Her body language, the way she's been dying to do things for herself lately, her embarrassment that her parents actually remain on the playground with her, all taught me that running through the snow in my clogs to give her a hug would not have been a comfort to anyone but me. 

A few minutes later - after throwing some iceballs at the boy - she finally looked at me. I asked her if she was okay. She nodded and went back to her game. Later, because I felt bad for not rushing to my child's side, I asked her if it was okay that I didn't run to her side when she was hurt. "Mom, it just stung. I was fine. It would have been embarrassing if you'd run to me. Sheesh." 

Ironflower was 14 months old the first time I realized how big an impact my reactions had on her. I was 8 months pregnant with Lovebug and Ironflower was cruising around the living room. She managed to bang her head on the side corner of the coffee table (the part not covered with bumpers, of course) and started to cry. I scooped her up and soothed her calmly, until I saw the huge bump on her head. Then I started to cry, because hormones and injured toddlers are a bad combination. Of course, when I started crying, Ironflower stopped calming down and started wailing louder and louder. It was a fun night, let me tell ya. 

Since then, I have managed to keep my emotions/hormones/reactions in check no matter what the injury. So much so that local moms describe me as calm. Too bad they don't give out Golden Globes for faking it; I would so love to meet Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. But it's one thing to fake it as I hold  my kiddo up close and see that the injury isn't so bad, it's another when I'm watching from afar. It's another when my kid doesn't even look at me for a reaction. 

I mean, part of me thinks it's great. It's great that she can calm herself down; that she can assess her own injury level. It's great that she's so independent. Really. But all those times I daydreamed about having independent, capable kids? I didn't realize that meant I'd have to just stand there and watch them get hurt sometimes. 

I'm going to be a fucking mess when all the middle school drama starts, aren't I? 

Wandering Wednesday: Lego Con

Okay, technically it's called "Lego Kids Fest", but really it's a Lego convention. I don't know where I heard about it, but when I discovered that one was going to be about two hours from here, all I could think was, "Road trip!"

We love our road trips. And our Legos. I thought the experience would be a great Christmas present for the kids AND it still cost much less than Hot Guy and Lovebug's coveted Lego Death Star .

Giant. Piles. Of. Bricks. 

After the initial huge piles of Duplos (which my kids never play with anymore, except for when there are HUGE piles of them), we strolled over to the Lego creations. This Lightning McQueen was pretty sweet. 

Life-sized Lego Hagrid. 

I make a point of encouraging Ironflower's Hermione obsession. 

Giant pile of regular Legos. Hugmonkey and I did this while Hot Guy and the big kids went to the Lego Master Builder Academy. The Master Builder Academy was Lovebug and Ironflower's favorite part of the whole experience. They got to meet a Master Builder and learn some building strategies. 

Hugmonkey and I also hit the Lego City area; you could build vehicles or buildings and add them to the Lego City display. 

We met up again at the monochromatic build. All the bricks were the same color (obviously) and the same size - the classic two by four. And yet the projects were amazing. 

Ironflower's. 

Hugmonkey's. 

Lovebug's. And theirs weren't even the best. 

Squee! Lego Harry Potter! 

I wonder how much it would cost to buy that whole display? 

This was where you made vehicles and raced them. 

We spent a lot of time there. 

We built buildings to add to a giant map of the United States. 

Lovebug made the Empire State Building. 

More time at the giant Lego pile. See the cool city Lovebug is adding to? Well, the only negative part of the trip happened here. A boy around 7 or so had made a giant Lego gun, and then decided to destroy the city. He knocked down every building, yanked a house out of a toddler's hands and destroyed it and just acted like a little jerk. No parent stopped him or said anything (except me and Hot Guy, not that he listened) and no one from Lego stepped in. 

Next we went over to the family build competition. We had to make things from Star Wars, to the joy of the boys in the family. 

We played Ninjago, which is actually way more fun than I thought. 

The boys did Mindstorms while Ironflower and I went to the Lego Friends area. We would like you to know that while we are technically against the idea of "girl" and "boy" Legos, we had a lot of fun building with the Lego Friends sets. We don't know why, but they seem to be addicting. 

There was an area with Lego Castle stuff. 

There was Batman. 

The whole thing was four and half hours long and we were there for every minute. We actually could have used another half hour or so - we didn't get to the Lego art area or take a picture with Lego Santa. 

Way better (and cheaper) than our trip to Legoland a few years ago. I mean, Legoland is really just an amusement park with some Lego details - there's no Master Builder Academy and only a teeny building area. Lego Kids Fest is a much better option for kids who love Legos. And Disney World is a much better option for kids who love amusement parks. 

Happy 9th Birthday, Ironflower!

Dear Ironflower,

     Every time I find it hard to believe that you are 9 - like when I see a picture like this:

Or like this:

You then say something so smart or hilarious that I am reminded that you are, in fact, an amazing kid - but not so much my little girl anymore. You've handled the transition to the notably difficult third grade curriculum so well, on top of many hours of dance a week and having to wear uncomfortable spreaders. You are so capable. 

You are a devoted friend and would prefer to be friends with everyone. You try to be inclusive and are able to get along with so many different ages of kids. That makes me so proud of you. You also play so well with your brothers; despite needing some alone time in your room sometimes, you are close to both of them. 

Though you've been reading for a while, I feel like this year you began a devotion to the printed word that rivals my own. You read for fun. You'll read just about anything put in front of you, but you have definite preferences. And you've become a definite Harry Potter nerd, with a love of Hermione that makes me tear up a little. 

I love that you still play with your American Girl dolls and Legos and your imagination. You are (very sensibly) not rushing off into crushes on One Direction and only being able to entertain yourself with screens. You're already asking for a phone, though. 

You are great at standing up for yourself and speaking your mind. Even when it's not necessarily the best time to do that. I hope with all my heart that you stay this independent and strong-willed forever; even though it might drive us crazy during your teen years. 

You are still interested in sea animals and ocean life. I love that you are so against Sea World after learning about some of their practices from the young woman at Clearwater Marine Aquarium. We don't even need to watch Blackfish, which I'm pretty sure would break your heart. 

Ironflower, I love you so much and I'm so honored to be your mom. Much as I may occasionally miss the little girl you used to be (I do so love buying flouncy dresses), I adore the young woman you're becoming. 

       Love,           

 Mommy       

Teaching Tuesday: Beware Strangers Bearing Giftedness

Just writing this post probably makes me an asshole.

Ironflower's repulsed face. Sure, in this photo it's about pumpkin guts. But she'll make the same expression if she ever reads this post. 

But today I don't care, for today I am confused. And this is where I process stuff. Also, where I get advice from smart people who care enough to read my blog, not just my FB status updates.

So anyway, it appears that both Ironflower and Hugmonkey have qualified for the gifted program at school. Before you get too impressed, this is the first time I have heard about us even having a gifted program and it meets every other week for 45 minutes. In other words, this should not be an especially big deal. Especially since the qualifications mainly involve them taking multiple-choice tests well and not being behavior problems.

The question is. . .do I have them tested (at our own personal expense) to find out if they're actually gifted? "Gifted" being a relative term; I can tell you right now that they are not music prodigies or destined for the Olympics. But they would probably qualify for the Gifted Child Society's Saturday morning enrichment classes, according to standard IQ tests (which, seeing as they are white, middle class, suburban children, would probably be fairly accurate). And some camps we couldn't possibly afford anyway.

There's a part of me that wants to know how they'd score on the IQ tests, that wants to push them into the enrichment classes and thinks this would a great excuse to start homeschooling them. I mean, they are bored in school most of the time; Ironflower actually burst into tears a few weeks ago because a math concept was hard for her. For the first time in her life. She clearly needs to be challenged more regularly, so that when she faces the next tough concept, she doesn't fall apart.

But then I think, do they need enrichment or time to build a Lego village in the basement? Did knowing my own IQ ever do me any favors, or did it just make me feel like a failure when I didn't immediately grasp a concept or made a mistake? And how bored are they really? It's not like they do everything perfectly.

I then spent a few hours researching this whole gifted education thing. It wasn't really covered during any education class I ever took. But I wasn't allowed to graduate without knowing about how to teach kids with learning disabilities. And I'm not saying that that's not very important, but really, nothing on teaching the gifted? I subbed for a while in a self-contained gifted classroom when I lived in Seattle. It was so fun, I debated going back and getting certified in gifted education. But the regular classroom teacher said to focus on something else instead, as gifted education was being phased out to save money.

That class no longer exists, by the way.

What was I bitching about? Oh yeah, my research. It was not encouraging. There are lots of opportunities for teenagers, at least in our district, but most schools seem to have dropped the ball when it comes to gifted ed at the elementary level. Which probably means that a lot of gifted kids don't even make it to the high school level, what with never being properly challenged in the classroom and all. I mean, last year, when my kids first started complaining of boredom, they got extra packets of worksheets.

Not exactly inspiring. Though better than the teacher I remember from elementary school who had a friend of mine sit in the hallway every day during reading. Why? Because he could already read and she didn't want him in the room when she was teaching the other kids. She didn't even give him a book to read.

As you can see, wise blog readers, I am all over the place with this. Part outraged at (the lack of) gifted programs, part not even sure my kids need to be labelled as such. . .what are your thoughts? Experiences? Opinions*?

*Unless your opinions involve calling me out for being "that mom" on the internet. The one thing writing this post has helped me sort out is that sharing it definitely makes me an asshole.