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.

Don't It Make Our Old Toys New?

In college I baby-sat for this family with toddler twins. The mom was a very nice earth mother type, but I was always glad I didn't baby-sit for them full time. She was against baby wipes, so the kids were cleaned with cotton balls dipped in water.

One bad lunch reaction could mean going through an entire giant bag of cotton balls. This is why - even though I'm not a fan of chemicals and whatnot - I never wavered in my commitment to using baby wipes. It was impossible to change those kids quickly. Or neatly.

She also believed that her kids' toys should be rearranged during their nap times. As an enthusiastic college student, I loved this. It was fun setting up their toys in creative ways. I remember doing this early on with Ironflower and even Lovebug, but I'm afraid it only happened a few times for Hugmonkey. I know I didn't even think about it once Hugmonkey was old enough to notice what Ironflower and Lovebug were playing with and want the same things.
.
But an odd thing has happened since I rearranged the living room a few days ago. I made a dedicated play area and suddenly my kids are playing with all of their toys again. Toys I thought they'd outgrown. Toys I was thinking about donating. Toys I was slightly ticked that we'd wasted so much money on. They have not cared one bit that we've been stuck inside a lot, awaiting the thunderstorms of doom.

It is freaking awesome.

Apparently the whole rearrange the toys trick works on big kids as well. I'm thinking I'll rearrange the play area again in another week or so. I'm wondering if I should go back and read old posts to learn some more parenting tricks that I've forgotten. 

So Freaking Naive

On one of our earliest trips to the local pool (which is really a small lake, but whatever) this year, a girl slipped off the high dive. She only broke her arm when she hit the freaking wall, thank goodness, but that's enough. My children assured me that they had no interest in going off any of the diving boards, let alone the high one. I sighed with relief.

I am so freaking naive.

Ironflower started asking when she found out some of her friends were going off the diving boards. I managed to put her off until they started going off the diving boards in her swim lessons. On her first trip up to the high dive platform, though, she changed her mind and came back down. I again sighed with relief, because the low and medium diving boards don't freak me out that much.

As long as I am standing there watching. I just feel like the lifeguards don't watch the kids as closely as they should. And their standards are low - there is no deep water test needed for kids to go off the diving boards or swim in the deep water.

It took Ironflower about 3 hours to change her mind about the high dive. I took the kids over to the diving boards because I figured practicing on the low and medium couldn't hurt. Lovebug conquered his diving board fear and happily jumped off the low and medium boards.

And then Ironflower wanted to try the high dive again. I mentioned the girl breaking her arm, right? And that the dive is high? And that even though Ironflower is a pretty good swimmer, she is only 7? And I didn't start doing the high dive until I was like 10? And that I'm paranoid and overprotective about certain things? Okay. 

Some parents, when confronted with the kind of panic I was feeling, might tell their kid no. But I knew intellectually that my panic was ridiculous, even if it didn't feel ridiculous. So I let her go. 

Not only did she not break anything, she absolutely loved it. She's now done it so many times, Lovebug is walking up there with her. He hasn't jumped yet, but I'm no longer naive. I know it's only a matter of time before I have to let him go too. 

Hugmonkey will probably do it when he's 5, because he hates being left behind. 

Until this high dive thing, I was always so thrilled when my kids did things on their own. I was proud (oh, okay, and a teeny bit sad) when they ran into preschool and then kindergarten without a backward glance. I've loved watching (or in Hugmonkey's case, begging) them develop each independent skill. 

But now I realize that the independent skills are only going to get scarier (for me, anyway). Sleep overs. Walking home from school. Using the stove. Driving. 

I think I need a Valium.

In Which I Give Parenting Advice

I screw up a lot as a parent. I mean, I don't beat my children or feed them Red Bull and Pixie Sticks, but I'm so not the supermom I thought I would be. I'm trying to learn to be okay with that. One way I do that is by not reading too many blogs or books by moms who ARE supermoms. You know the ones I mean - the ones who homeschool their six kids with special needs while running successful photography businesses and cooking healthy gourmet dinners.

But recently I had this rare moment of feeling like a supermom and it occurred to me that I might have one area of expertise. Also, I need more blog topics that don't involve Rick Santorum or griping about my suburb.

My kids are very good readers. Like, other people have remarked upon it in public kind of readers. Plus, you know, I used to teach children how to read. So yay! I have an area of parenting expertise.

The thing I want to point out is that my kids are not gifted readers - they did not start reading before kindergarten, they are not devouring Harry Potter in the first grade. They're good, but they're normal good. Here's how they got that way (I think):

1. They've been read to almost every night since birth. Once in a while we have to skip it, or I read one book instead of three, but that's rare.

2. We still read picture books. Chapter books have their place and all, but they're really not developmentally appropriate until first grade. And even then, picture books can still teach kids A LOT.

3. No flashcards. That "Teach Your Baby to Memorize" program, or whatever it's called, is crap. Flashcards are okay for teaching kindergartners and/or first graders sight words, but that's it.

4. Lots of rhyming and word play. I sing stupid songs and say ridiculous rhymes all the time ("put on your shoes or you'll have to snooze," e.g.). Phonological awareness - the ability to distinguish and manipulate the sounds within words - is a huge predictor of reading success. Plus, rhyming entertains me when I'm saying the directions for the tenth time.

5. Workbooks are for handwriting and math facts. Seriously, no workbook is going to make your kid a good reader. But it might make them hate reading.

She's very excited that Santa brought her a book. 

6. Reread. Yeah, I know it sucks to read the same book over and over. But it's the perfect time to start pointing at each word. It also helps with comprehension. Try different accents for the different characters to make it more interesting.

7. Go to story time at your local library. Seeing other kids and adults interested in reading makes them think it's cool. Plus, you don't have to read!

8. Your kid may not really like it when you read, especially if you have a very active toddler. S/he may not want to sit still and listen. Let them walk around while you read, or try to just get through one short book every night. If you keep doing it consistently, your kid will start to like it.

9. Have books everywhere. Buy them at garage sales or library sales or get them from friends with older kids, but get as many as you can. Leave some in the bathroom, in the car and in each kid's room.

10. Make books a reward and a celebration. Let kids "earn" extra stories for good behavior. Instead of giving them cash for chores and/or the Tooth Fairy, let them earn books from Scholastic.

Now that I've written all this, of course, Hugmonkey will probably turn out to be a terrible reader or something. I'm pretty sure his mission in life is to kill any parenting confidence I might have. But these steps should work for your kids. Feel free to add your suggestions in the comments!

An Excuse For My Hypocrisy

When I was in the second grade, I started a letter writing campaign to demand that the movie "Grease" be given a 'G' rating, not a 'PG' one. I was kind of obsessed with "Grease" and it was painful to me that some of my classmates couldn't watch it because it was rated 'PG'. Or at least that's the excuse they gave. Now that I think about it, not very many of my second grade classmates grew up to be theater nerds with me in high school. Maybe they just couldn't appreciate a good musical.

 I didn't think a few swear words and a teen pregnancy storyline were bad for kids. I don't remember registering the liquor or smoking as a big deal either. As far as I was concerned, the singing and dancing were what really mattered. Though the clothes also intrigued me. I really wanted a Pink Lady jacket. And skintight black pants.* At 7, my crush on Olivia Newton-John was far bigger than my crush on John Travolta.

But this is not a post about Grease. ** It's about how I would rather my 7 year old not watch Grease.

And how I'm afraid that this makes me a total hypocrite/helicopter parent/idiot.

I mean, I don't even like her to watch iCarly. We used to use Led Zeppelin to soothe her and now. . . I'm sheltering her from a movie I watched when I was 7? I still let her listen to Led Zeppelin - or any other music she wants. I don't think hearing lyrics she won't understand is going to mess her up.

But seeing a story, well, this is a kid who has always acted out her favorite TV shows and movies. It's not that I think she's going to turn into Rizzo or that girl from St. Bernadette's. But I don't want her acting out scenes from this movie on the playground. Or even thinking so much about all the romantic drama that goes on in that movie, nevermind the other stuff that happens.

If you had asked me at 8 or 11 or 14 what I thought was supposed to happen in romantic relationships, I would have described Sandy's plot line from Grease. This was not a good set up for teenage dating. The lesson I wish I had learned was that if he suddenly starts acting like a jerk, he's a jerk. He's not going to change his ways because he loves you so much, like Danny did for Sandy.***

At this point, my daughter views boys as potential playmates, not boyfriends. If she likes a boy, it's because he helped her build a fort. I feel like repeated viewings of Grease and other romance heavy shows are going to change that. I know that someday, of course, she will look at boys like boyfriends. Or girls like girlfriends, whatever. But why push her?

It's not like I'll never let her watch Grease or iCarly or Degrassi. Down the road I plan on forcing all the kids to watch Degrassi and 16 & Pregnant with me. And Grease. And Sixteen Candles. And Fame. I'm hoping these will be fun family occasions, but I suspect these viewings will actually occur when they are grounded.

So I'm not a total hypocrite. When I feel they are old enough (which is definitely not while they still work so hard to believe in Santa Claus) I will let them watch all kinds of PG and R rated material.

What about you? Is there a movie or a TV show that you watched that you won't let your kids watch? What's your philosophy on PG and R ratings?





*I finally understand some of the unfortunate fashion choices I made while clubbing in college.

**Although it could be. I still love that movie.

***Undoubtedly not all my teenage dating issues had to do with Grease, Sixteen Candles also shoulders some of the blame. And all the hours I watched All My Children with my babysitter probably didn't help.

Help With My Pathetic Attempt To Be Organized

So, presently I am making spreadsheet to compare and contrast various after school activities for the kidlets. It's part of my newest attempt at being an organized, prepared and well-budgeted person. Last year, I was all, "Hey, do you guys want to try this?" whenever an interesting class or activity popped up and then suddenly we were busy ALL THE TIME. And we didn't even try half the stuff that is available around here. Because, you know, we haven't won the lottery. I also think kids need time to play.

But now I am torn. There's not enough time or budget for the kids to do all the things I want as well as all the things they want. I am having trouble prioritizing. So naturally I thought I would ask the internets how they resolve this dilemma.

Is a climbing class a good idea? They're always climbing on something. 

*How many activities do your elementary school aged kids do?

*How do you choose what activities your kids do?

*What activities did you do as a kid that actually helped you as a teenager and/or adult?

*Are two half hour activities too much for a first grader to have in one day?

Ironflower would like to take 4 hours of dance, piano, theater, jewelry making,  horseback riding* and soccer. Lovebug would like to take his favorite sports class at the Y, martial arts, soccer, basketball, science, hip hop, baseball and swimming. 

I'm also trying to plan for logistics like I can't be in two places at once and how many times a week HugMonkey can be entertained by my phone. 

And costs. 

Now do you see why I need a spreadsheet? And advice?

*This one is not going to happen because we have not won the lottery. But it's on her list.  

Why Yes, Parenthood Is the Toughest Job in the World

Recently, writer Meghan Daum from the Los Angeles Times challenged the idea that being a stay-at-home parent is the hardest job in the world. I was going to leave her a comment, as I thought it was an interesting perspective in the whole Ann Romney/Hilary Rosen debacle, but naturally the comments section is filled with nasty, name-calling trolls.

And it's possible my comment might have gotten a little long.

Before you start thinking I have time to read op-eds in random newspapers, my mom (and possibly my Dad, but he sends A LOT of articles) emailed me the article. In the article, Meghan (I mean no disrespect, we went to school together, even though she probably has no idea who I am now, I still can't imagine calling her "Ms. Daum" or whatever) lists some jobs that she suspects might be harder than being a stay-at-home parent, such as coal miner, President of the United States and teacher in an underfunded urban school district.

In a lot of ways, she's right. As a stay-at-home (or rather, stay-in-the-car) mom, I can wear yoga pants all day. I have no dress code, HR handbook or performance reviews. I have no boss. I can let some of my work, such as the laundry, slide for weeks. If I'm running late, people smile at me sympathetically - they don't dock my pay.

But I've also been a teacher in an underfunded urban school district. And while I appreciate that no one is telling me to radically alter my methods every year (as struggling school districts are wont to do), it's kinda tough to come up with your own methods all of the damn time. The challenge in being a stay-at-home parent - or honestly, any parent - is that it's ALL YOU, ALL THE TIME. There are no lesson plans, curriculum guides or experienced teachers handing you a stack of stuff to do the first week. There's no leaving at the end of the day. There's no "out-of-office" email response when your children need your help with something. There's no going to Hawaii or your ranch in Texas or wherever Presidents go to relax.

I mean, even if you go to Hawaii and don't bring your children with you, you are still their parent. You're still going to worry about them. You're still ultimately responsible for how they are cared for while you are gone. You're still the one who is going to fly home if they break their legs. Your heart is still otherwise engaged, even if you are drunk at a strip club in Las Vegas.

Even when they leave home and have jobs and kids of their own, you still worry about them. You are never, ever done with the job. You can be an ex-teacher, an ex-coal miner or a former President. . .but you can't be an ex- or former parent*.

And as the stay-at-home parent, even when you're hospitalized, you're still "working" by organizing and planning and worrying about the kids. You can be delirious with a fever (as happened last week when I had strep), but you've still gotta organize who's taking the kids where and whether the homework got done and take care of all the details that your working spouse doesn't even know about. Not only is the job never over, there aren't any sick or vacation days.

So Meghan, THAT'S why everyone calls it the hardest job in the world. It's not that my day is so tough, especially compared to the President's. It's that the President will be done with his (or her, that's gonna happen someday, right people?) job in a finite period of time. After 4 or 8 years, the responsibility is lifted. As for teachers and coal miners, they LEAVE work at the end of the day. The day may suck, but then they've got at least 12 hours where they are free. Not so with parenthood.

*Okay, there are circumstances where that happens, but they are rare and depressing and horrible and I don't want to write about them. 

Mama What?

I don't make fun of Sarah Palin much on this blog because Tina Fey does it so much better. To be honest, the whole blog would be better if Tina Fey wrote it, but I believe she's busy writing Emmy winning television shows and doesn't blog much. When I grow up, I want to be Tina Fey.

Oh right, this post isn't actually about Tina Fey and my massive girl crush.

It's not really about Sarah Palin either, though. It's about her fans. Her fellow "Mama Grizzlies".

Do we really want our parenting skills and feelings to be likened to those of the grizzly bear?

Assuming that losing at least a hundred IQ points doesn't bother you (it does me. I'm pro smart people. Especially government people. But I digress.), I want you to imagine spending 2 years alone with your kids.

No mate. No family. No friends. Because that's how grizzlies do it.

They hibernate every winter.

Also, there's inbreeding.

And finally, there's the part that I believe Palin likes. Grizzlies, of course, attack when their cubs are threatened. Threatened can mean that humans are too close to the cubs, even if said people are minding their own business. Threatened can mean that anything is close to their cubs, even if said things have no interest in the cubs.

Because grizzlies bears are not smart enough to tell what is an actual threat and what is some idiot hiker wandering off the trail. Which, I believe, describes Palin and her ilk perfectly.

Gay marriage is not going to hurt their children. Health care for poor kids is not going to hurt their children. Whether or not there is a mosque at Ground Zero is not going to even affect their children because none of them live in lower Manhattan.

Yes, I believe in protecting my children. I'll fight to the death for them.

Just don't call me a "Mama Grizzly".

No, I AM Grateful, Dammit

Today my daughter told me that she doesn't want to have kids because she doesn't want to work that hard. In case you didn't know, my daughter is four.

I feel like such an asshole.

I mean, she's not supposed to know how much work kids are yet, right?

And though I hope she remembers this fact when she starts having sex in fifteen years, I somehow doubt it. Clearly the bigger problem is that my four year old thinks knows she and her brothers are a lot of work.

I feel like I should fix it, but I don't know how.

I do feel overworked right now. We're broke, so I'm constantly trying to write articles from home while managing three kids under five, the youngest of whom screams whenever I'm not next to him and the two oldest of whom are extremely hyper. My dishwasher is dead, my toaster oven is dead and my fridge has stopped making ice. I can't find a place to put everything so the house never looks clean, even when it is. Which it usually isn't, but that's beside the point.

Right here is where I usually check myself, remind myself that I'm blessed to have three beautiful children, a husband who puts up with me, my home, running water, a fridge that keeps food cold, enough stuff to be overwhelmed by it, civil rights, access to healthcare, a president I actually like . . .

But clearly this grateful attitude is not being conveyed to my children.

Also, I am little concerned that my four year old already has an aversion to working hard.

Any suggestions?

Haiku Friday

My little Lovebug

my precious Ironflower

so easily hurt

I'm not an overly sentimental parent, really. I remain calm in the face of falls, cuts, scrapes and bruises. Hysterical tears are more likely to get on my nerves than arouse my sympathy. I have given away more baby clothes than I have saved. I always seem to forget the video camera.

But when we were at  the library this week watching a children's entertainer and Lovebug couldn't get a partner for the dancing part (possibly because he kept going up to kids and grabbing them) I almost burst into tears. And every time Ironflower asks a new kid to play with her at the park - and that kid says no or taunts her, even - I have to restrain myself from calling that kid names.

My kids want to play with everybody. They're not above grabbing toys or trying to get to the front of the slide line, but they're prepared to like everyone they meet and they don't hurt other kids. And I love that about them, except when I watch them get hurt. Last fall, two little girls Ironflower wanted to befriend called her a baby and kept running away from her. She still talks about it, even as I've said over and over again that those girls were rude and not the kind of kids she would want for friends. Until the library incident this week, Lovebug hadn't seemed to care if someone didn't want to play with him. But he felt it at the library when he was the only kid who didn't have a partner.

I taught public school for ten years. I'm not unaware of how cruel children can be to one another. And I was prepared for it to happen someday - I had watched sweet as pie kindergarteners turn into Queen Bee fourth graders too many times to think that my kids would never feel hurt or rejected. But we're talking about 2 1/2 and 3 1/2 - and other kids the same age. This didn't happen when I taught preschool fifteen years ago. And if it did, parents stopped it. Now the parents are just as bad.

So, internets, do you have any advice? I can't control the behavior of bratty children (or their parents), so how can I help my kids forget about the jerks they meet and just focus on the nice kids? How can I explain to Ironflower, as she looks longing at the pair of five year old girls she wants to play with (who keep running away from her), that she should just play with the nice little boy next to her? And how can I stop myself from talking to these kids as if I was their (ticked off) teacher?

My New Year's Resolutions

New Year's Resolutions From Jerseygirl89

I'm not very good at keeping New Year's resolutions. Although in high school I did make a resolution to keep my toenails painted (what? I was concerned about world peace. I just didn't think I could fix it) that I'm proud to say I've kept to this day.

It's the only one.

So this year, instead of setting myself up for failure, I've tried a new philosophy. I'm only going to make resolutions that I can keep.

1. I will not make fun of Britney, Lynne or Jamie-Lynn Spears. Well, not on my blog, anyway.

2. I will not gain any more weight. (So much more attainable than losing weight. And still good for me!)

3. I will not question my parenting skills more than once a day.

4. I will wear shoes that are not my clogs or my sneakers at least once a week.

5. I will answer emails within three days weeks.

6. I will stop watching "WE", the channel for psychotic women.

7. I will not waste time wishing I had somebody else's blogging skills.

8. I will stop cutting my own hair when I'm stressed out.

9. I will remember to take my vitamins.

10. I will floss . . .more often (that leaves the options nice and open.)

I think I can fulfill these. What are your resolutions? Or do you skip resolutions at this time of year, realizing that jumping on the "new year" bandwagon doesn't have anything to do with success?

Congratulations!

Almost two weeks ago, my friend Tammy gave birth to a baby boy. One of my favorite things about Tammy is that she reads my blog, unlike a number of my other real life friends. *stifles a sob and sniffs pitifully.* Anyway, I've been trying to think of what I could do for her other than send more baby clothes and good thoughts, since I'm 1200 miles away and can't bring potato chips. So here is a post for Tammy, as well as any other new mothers out there.

Some Thoughts

1. You are a FABULOUS mother.
2. Sometimes even fabulous mothers get frustrated and/or ticked off.
3. It's okay to let the baby cry for a few minutes. Especially if this is one of those frustrated moments.
4. Trust your instincts.
5. If you don't have any instincts, that's okay too. Call someone or go to Kellymom.com or Mayasmom.com.
6. Smile and nod at all advice you are given, then trust your instincts.
7. Take all advice with a grain of salt.
8.. Everyone judges mothers. Other mothers most of all. Don't fall into the trap of comparing yourself and/or your baby to other people.
9. A dirty house will not hurt the baby.
10. You are a FABULOUS mother.

Some Advice (pass the salt)

1. When the baby wakes up, wait a few minutes before picking him up. It's good training for sleeping on his own later on.
2. They say it's bad, but I think falling asleep on the couch with my babies - no matter what time of day it was - saved my sanity. And the babies loved it.
3. You do not need to supplement your milk with formula, breastfed babies are just skinnier. And they eat all the time because they like to nurse, not because you're not making enough milk. That said, if you want to introduce formula, that's your business - just don't let anyone bully you into it.
4. You can have a glass of wine now. And you should.
5. Find people with babies the same age as yours.
6. Go ahead and breastfeed in public. Be proud.
7. Tinted moisturizer is your friend.
8. The only way to make your libido come back is to spend some . . .um. . quality time on your own. But don't worry about that for another few months.
9. Babies don't actually need to eat baby food. After six months old, mushy table food has more nutritional impact and is cheaper (I was told that one by a pediatric dietitian)
10. No one has it all together, not even that celebrity mommy with four nannies and a personal trainer. Well, okay, besides her.

Congratulations on starting the most amazing and challenging ride of your life.