8 Reasons Why I Love Summer Vacation (Or Why I Really Should Be A Homeschool Mom)

I'll admit it.  I waste too much time reading parenting blogs.
 
But technically, since, I get paid to blog about various parenting topics myself, I like to classify the large blocks of time I spend surfing the Internet as "work."

I'm actually researching trends and keeping my finger on the pulse of all the hot topics and daily controversies in the parenting world ...  

It sounds good, at least, right?

Parents Fear Summer Vacation?

In the past few weeks while I've been busy researching, I've come across several blog posts and articles by moms (and a few dads) bemoaning the fact that summer vacation has arrived.   

"What will I do with my kids home every day?" 

"How do I entertain them?" 

"Help! Find me the nearest full-day camp!"

Blogs and magazines are full of tips for how to keep your kids busy and ways to avoid tearing your hair out.  On one hand, I totally get it, and I sympathize.  School provides a welcome break from the tedium that is child-rearing, and summer break signals an almost inevitable explosion in whining, fighting, and that damned sibling rivalry.    

But on the other hand, I must be wired differently.  Because, despite the drawbacks, I am totally psyched about summer vacation.  We're only one week in at our house, and I'm already in absolute heaven. 

I think summer vacation is awesome.  Here's why.

8 Reasons Why I Love Summer Vacation 

1.  No schedules. 

I'm NOT a Type-A sort of person, so the whole get everyone up by 7:50 and out the door 30 minutes later isn't really my cup of tea.  I hate having to wake up my kids (or get out of bed myself) after a late night just because school starts at 8:45 on the dot and the tardy slips are ready and waiting.  During the school year, your whole day seems to be dictated by drop-off and pick-up times, and you never seem to be able to escape the clock.  

During the summer, you can come and go as you like.  If your kids stay up late, they can sleep in late too.  If you end up going to the grocery store at 3:25, you don't have to race through to make sure you're back at school by 3:40.  You don't have to fight to impose the early bedtime that is necessary so they can get up for school, and bedtime doesn't dictate dinner time.

You can shop when you like, and eat when you like, and sleep when you like.

Summer really is a beautiful thing.     

2.  More free time.  

School isn't the only thing that keeps you busy during the school year.  All the sports teams, and dance classes, and scout troops, and school plays, and activities keep you running in circles if youlet them.  Summer may not mean the end of everything, but it almost always means you can find a little more time to relax and do whatever you want. 

3.  I'm in charge.

I may not be Type-A, but I'll admit to being a bit of a control freak, particularly when it comes to who's in charge of my kids (and me).  And apparently I'm not the only one. 

Stephanie O'Dea (author of the popular 365 Crockpot Blog) had this to say in a post she wrote about How To Stop the Summer Brain Drain.   

"I'm greatly looking forward to having the kids home with me when school lets out. No matter how involved I am in the school, during the school year, Adam and I are not in charge. The teacher is. I wish I could say this doesn't bother me, but I'd be lying. The school calendar dominates our day-to-day life, and I'm looking forward to getting a more natural flow to our days."

Yes, yes, and yes. 

4.  Less stress for everybody (especially mom).

No lunches to pack.  No "school" clothes to constantly put through the laundry.  Less pressure.  The minute school ended last week, I could instantly feel a giant weight lifted from my shoulders.  I get to be more relaxed, which means we all have more fun. 

What's that saying?  "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?" 

5.  Different (and dare I say better) educational opportunities.

During the school year, kids get so busy with actual school that they often don't have a lot of time to pursue other educational opportunities.  Summer means swimming lessons, leisurely days spent reading and visiting the library, and the opportunity to participate in all types of camps and classes, from sports and space camps to academic and acting camps. 

Trips to fun and educational places like the zoo or local farms or science centers are also a lot easier to plan during the summer months.  And as a parent, you also have the option of buying some workbooks or planning activities to help your child with some of their personal weaknesses or particular areas of interest.

If your children love science, do some science experiments.  If they need handwriting practice, hit the school supply store and get to work!  

6.  Good, old-fashioned fun.

Children need to play.  Play is part of how they learn.  But many schools these days limit recess, and kids spend hours on end sitting at their desk.  Yes, you'll hear the "I'm bored" chorus, but some educational experts actually believe that this is a good thing. 

Kim John Payne, author of the book Simplicity Parenting, believes that bored kids are really kids on the verge of discovery.  He suggests that our children have entirely too much stimulation in their lives, and that time and space for simple, creative play is all they truly need.         

7.  A cleaner house.

I know it doesn't make sense, but I swear my house is cleaner in the summer.  Maybe it's because there are fewer papers spilling out of a backpack on a daily basis, or because we spend so much time outside instead of indoors making a mess, or because there's actually more time to clean when school and homework are out of the way.

8.  Time to connect.

A good friend of mine recently complained that, during the school year, she rarely has the opportunity to spend quality time with her daughter.  "It's just maintenance," she stated, and I totally got what she meant. 

We get so busy telling them to do their homework and finish their breakfast and hurry up and get in the car that we don't have time to just be with our kids and enjoy their company.  Summer is a great time to connect with our children on a deeper level, even if that just means chilling on the couch, without all the constraints that a busy school year brings.

Do you love summer vacation?  Or do you prefer having your kids go to school?  Do you find it hard to entertain them and enjoy them when they're home all day every day? 

 

The Easter Birthday (Or Why I'm Forever Grateful That I Haven't Given Birth on December 25th)

I have an April birthday, which means that there is always the possibility that, if the moon and the stars align just right, my birthday might actually fall on Easter Sunday.  Growing up, I thought this would be the coolest thing ever. 

In retrospect, I have no idea why, but as a kid it was always a big deal to me to check the calendar at the start of a new year, and each year I was disappointed.

There was one year that my birthday was the day before Easter, but it wasn't quite the same high I was convinced you could achieve from celebrating the day of my birth and a giant fake bunny and the day Jesus rose from the dead all in one day. 

Apparently, ten-year-old me thought that would have been way cool.

Then I grew up and realized that special days are rare, and sometimes birthdays just suck, and there's really no reason to combine what might be an already crappy day with the stress of a holiday where you've got kids who are in total sugar shock and family members on both sides who are pissed because you spent too much time with the other side of the family.

I don't have issues surrounding the holidays or dealing with family or anything . . .

But the universe always has a plan.  And in some cosmic twist of fate, I ended up with a daughter who has an April birthday too. 

And this year that birthday falls on Easter. 

Not the day before, or the day after -- it's smack dab in the middle of Easter Sunday.

She, of course, thinks this is the coolest thing ever, and can't wait for extra birthday presents from the Easter Bunny and the special awesomeness that can come only from a day so glorious that you could actually load jelly beans and Cadbury eggs atop your birthday cake if you wanted.

One might say that I can live vicariously, as we parents tend to do through our children, and maybe mothers especially through our daughters.  Maybe I could, if I could step back, and breathe, and enjoy the simple things in life the way she is still able to do. 

I want to revel in the anticipation, and share her giddy excitement over the lottery she thinks she has won. 

It's just easier said than done.

Because I'm the one drowning in the details of determining which presents are birthday presents and which ones are Easter basket presents and which ones are Easter bunny birthday presents and which family will we celebrate with and who is making dinner when and how many damn birthday cakes do we need. 

Sure, if I stop for a moment, I can step back and see that these are minor things (as my husband so annnoyingly points out) and that they aren't really earth-shattering problems to have.  But they're also things that have to get done, and I'm the one doing the doing. 

Equality parenting my ass.

So I'm in an Easter/birthday/PMS/too-busy-to-help-husband-induced funk this week, and, yes, I'm wallowing.  I'm also relying on the help of an occasional glass of wine or three or four.

The good news is that I'm fairly certain that I can get everything finished and pull myself out of my funk in time for the actual big day. 

I would like to genuinely enjoy what promises to be a very special day for my daughter, and for the fun-loving ten-year-old who is buried deep inside me. 

I know she's in there, trying to get through to me and remind me to get out of my own way and remember that the simplest pleasures can be the most exciting of all.  I'm pretty sure she would tell me not to make life more complicated than it actually is -- the problem being that she doesn't realize that making life more complicated than it should be is the very definition of being a grown-up.    

If I can actually listen to her, though, this Easter/birthday thing promises to be pretty cool after all, once the preparation is over and the details are ironed out.  It's most likely a once-in-a-lifetime thing, so we're gonna make the most of it.

A Christmas birthday, on the other hand, ack!!

Every?  Single?  Year? 

Not even my inner-ten-year old could get me through that one.

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On a slightly related note, if you're looking to fill your kids' Easter baskets with at least some items that won't send them into sugar shock, check out my post 50 Candy-Free Ideas For Easter Baskets over at Parenting Squad!

Santa Claus Is Not A Lie. He's A Belief System.

One of my favorite Christmas prints is by local St. Louis artist Mary Engelbreit.  It's a simple picture of Santa Claus, with the word Believe printed above.

One word.

Believe.

Easier said than done, I know.

When money is tight and jobs are scarce and loved ones are ill, it can be difficult to believe that things will be okay.  Sometimes, it can be difficult to believe that we can cope with the hardships that life keeps throwing at us. 

If we are religious, it can be difficult to believe that going to church and trusting in a God who  appears to have forsaken us is worthwhile.

Belief can be difficult to master.

"Faith," said Santa Claus in the classic Christmas movie Miracle on 34th Street, "is believing in things when common sense tells you not to."

In Valentine Davies book from which the movie was adapted, the quote reads a little differently: 

"Those who can accept nothing on faith will be forced to live a life dominated by doubt." 

Common sense tells us that Santa Claus is a myth.  As adults, we know that, in reality, there is no such person.  And there are some parents who struggle to teach their children about a man who for all intensive purposes is a big fat lie.

Is it a lie to perpetuate the myth of Santa to our children?

I don't think so. 

Santa Claus may not actually exist in the real world.  But when we teach our children about him, what we're really teaching them is how to believe in things that we cannot see.  We're teaching them that we can never know the complete truth of our existence, or understand all the wonders of our world.  We're teaching them that there is much that we can never understand. 

We're teaching them to imagine and to dream.  We're teaching them that life is about so much more than we can perceive from our limited point of view.  We're teaching them to believe in magic and generosity, and that the good in the world can always outshine the evil.   

We're teaching them to choose a life of belief and optimism over a life of pessimism and doubt.

Last night, my six year-old put her first tooth under her pillow and went to sleep with visions of a magical tooth fairy who would come in the night.  I might feel like I'm lying to her when I spin tales of this mysterious creature and then sneak in myself to stash the cash.  But I don't.

Instead, I feel like I'm teaching that we live in a world where life is full of possibilities and anything can happen.

In a world where a fat guy in a red suit can fly through the sky in a sleigh pulled by reindeer.  A world where a fairy can come in the night and leave money under your pillow.  Where a heart that has grown heavy from the hardships of life can be healed.  Where things will always get better.

I'm teaching her to believe. 

And I'm also reminding myself.

**********************
Check out the Mary Engelbreit store online if you're looking for some neat Christmas gifts.  She illustrates a variety of cards, calendars, posters, dishes, books, ornaments, etc.  There used to be an ME store at the St. Louis Galleria (and a long, long time ago at Union Station), but I don't think there are any around town anymore.  Her stuff is one-of-a-kind, though, so it's totally worth the shipping charges!

Sunday Surfing on Monday: Medication, McDonalds, And Other Things Moms Talk About

I had a Sunday Surf post all prepared, but was sidelined by some weird form of head cold/stomach flu/ poisoning by Theraflu.  Whatever it was that I had, I never made it to the computer.  So we're Sunday Surfing on Monday.  What difference does it make, really?

• Lisa Belkin, author of The New York Times Motherlode blog (and #1 on Babble's recent list of top mom bloggers) has an interesting post entitled Modern Mother's Little Helpers.  No, it isn't about the cute little toddlers who empty the silverware from the dishwasher and put the laundry into the dryer.  It's about the pills that so many moms pop in order to get through the day.  Belkin draws on a post from an anonymous blogger at The Elmo Wallpaper, who wonders what is going on when such large numbers of mothers are so overwhelmed and stressed out that they can't seem to function without the help of prescription meds. 
• San Francisco can ban Happy Meal toys all day long, but according to two eye-opening posts over at Spoonfed, there are far more serious issues when it comes to McDonalds.  Check out both Forget Happy Meal toys. Let's ban McEducation and the follow-up post More McDonald's Madness for some interesting and educational reading.  
• There was a beautiful post from Carrie at The Parenting Passageway about the times when breastfeeding doesn't work out.  She writes: "breastfeeding is wonderful, it provides an excellent start to infants and to families.  However, the way we connect to our children goes through all developmental stages, not just infancy, and not just through breastfeeding." 
• And last but definitely not least, the Cool Mom Picks Holiday Guide is here!!!  Cool Mom Picks is an awesome website run by awesome mom bloggers, and every year they scope out the coolest holiday gift ideas so that you don't have to.  I love that their stuff is unique, and that I can find  handmade items from Etsy mixed in among all their holiday picks. 

Happy Surfing!

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas . . .

Yesterday, we celebrated Halloween at our house.  Just like millions of other families across the country.  We didn't do anything special -- just made the traditional Halloween chili and carved pumpkins and tossed black and orange balloons around the house with the kids. 

My six year-old was a go-go dancer, because when she spotted the multi-colored costume at Target she thought it was "the most beautiful dress I've ever seen." 

I never did look up what a go-go dancer actually is, and at the back of my mind I wonder if it's really an appropriate choice for a six year-old.  But her excitement over her costume stems purely from the fact that it's so fun and colorful and that she gets to dance while she wears it.  Where's the harm in that? 

My two year-old wore his pajamas.  After first declaring that he wanted to be a car, he changed his mind and decided that no costume would come within three feet of his body.  As it turns out, nobody really cared that the kid wasn't wearing a costume, and he came home with a bag full of candy that weighed at least as much as he does.

But what made Halloween special to me this year was the weather.  The fall weather.  The fact that it was cold enough last night that the kids had to wear long sleeves under their costumes and bring their jackets, cold enough that my daughter was complaining that she needed mittens. 

You can always count on St. Louis weather to turn cold just in time for Halloween.  October may bring plenty of unseasonably warm days, but by Halloween night, you can almost always feel the frost in the air. 

And that's as it should be.

I've spent Halloween in Florida for the past two years.  And I could never get acclimated to the fact that you had to worry about a kid getting too hot in their costume.  It's just plain weird that you can wear your bikini to the beach in the daytime and then go trick-or-treating at night.

So I enjoyed this Halloween a little too much.  I'm getting a big kick out of the changing leaves and the falling temperatures, and appreciating the good old Midwest a little more than I did before.  You can't eat chili or drink hot chocolate or apple cider (spiked of course) in the Florida heat.

Well, you can, but it just doesn't feel right.

And this is why I don't mind that Halloween hasn't even been over for 24 hours yet and Christmas is everywhere.  Stores are stocked and online promotions have begun.  Typically, I would be bitching about the holidays running together and wondering why the Christmas season no longer starts after Thanksgiving like it used to.

Not this year.  I can't wait to bundle up in my coat and mittens and hit the malls with the rest of the crazy people.  I can't wait for the first snow.  I can't wait to put up my Christmas tree and sing Christmas carols and watch It's A Wonderful Life. 

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.  And I'm perfectly okay with that.

Photo credit: sociotard/ flickr

Talking With Children About Death

My father-in-law passed away a few weeks ago. 

We knew he was sick, but we were not prepared for the end to come so soon.  And really, who among us is ever prepared for the end to come at all for someone who has been such an integral part of our lives . . .

It isn't the first time that I've faced the death of a loved one.  But it is the first time that I've faced it with children, particularly one very astute six year-old who understands things far beyond her years.

So when we realized that the end was near, I knew that I had to talk to her, and explain to her, and answer any questions she might have.

This would have been easier had I known the answers myself . . .

As it stands, I decided to do a little research.  I googled "talking to kids about death" and came up with some obnoxiously self-righteous articles from psychotherapists who claim to know everything and expect every child to be the same.

There seemed to be way too much emphasis on what you shouldn't tell children.  I'm a pretty big fan of open lines of communication, and attached parenting in general. 

At four, my daughter knew how her baby brother was going to come out (and had a very vague idea of how he got in), so this didn't seem like the time to be holding back information. 

Like I'm going to take advice from these people about what to say to my child, a child they've never met.  None of their ideas and suggestions seemed relevant to our situation.

So being the huge fan of books that I am, I turned to Amazon.  I found a couple of children's books that looked decent (not too saccharine and not too dumbed down) and one for adults that at least appeared intelligent.  But in the midst of hospital visits and making sure my kids were cared for and preparing for a funeral in less than 48 hours, I never managed a trip to the bookstore.

And that turned out to be just fine.

I've always loved the saying that"you are the expert on your own child."  I like to read and do research and get ideas from other parents and even experts on all sorts of parenting issues, but in the end, only I know what is right for my family. 

This time was no different.

In the end, I just talked to her.  I told her honestly what I knew, and I told her that there was a lot I didn't know.  She had lots of questions, but none of them were the questions I expected. 

We as adults often seem to project our own grief and emotion and fear of death and the unknown onto our children, when they are processing the entire experience quite differently.  As in many situations, if we just ask them what they're feeling and follow their lead, parenting can be made quite a bit easier.

I've compiled a short list of what I've learned from my own experience in talking with my daughter, so that other parents can get some ideas to think about if this situation arises in your family.  Everything here may not work for you, but at least it's a place to start.

1. Honesty is the best policy.  Children, even at very young ages, are a lot smarter than most of us give them credit for.  They can tell when mom and dad are sad, or when there is tension in the air.  Smiling and telling them that everything is okay will only confuse them more.  Be honest.  If you're facing the loss of a parent, tell them that you are sad and scared.  It's a normal human reaction for you, and an important learning experience for them. 
2. Don't leave them in the dark.  When I started leaving my children with my mom, and spending a lot of time at the hospital with my husband, I knew it was time to explain what was going on.  Not telling kids doesn't protect them; it blindsides them.  You don't have to share every detail with them--you probably shouldn't--but show them respect, and acknowledge them as an important part of the family with feelings that matter just as much as the grown-ups.   
3. Talk less, ask more.  Parents have a habit of talking too much.  Chances are, your children will have lots of questions.  Let those questions be your guide.  "What do you want to know?"  is an easy way to get the conversation started.  For example, my daughter was very interested in the details of the wake and the funeral, and wanted to know precisely what was going to happen and why.  We ended up talking a lot about rituals and customs and celebrating the circle of life, all things I probably wouldn't have brought up on my own.  She was also fascinated by the details of how and why he got sick, and what caused his body to stop working.  Her interest in the technical aspects of the situation instead of the emotional aspects intrigued me, as it gave me new insight into her personality and the way her mind works.   
4. Avoid the sleep metaphor.  This one isn't mine--I read it somewhere--but I think it makes sense.  If you tell a child that the loved one in the coffin is "sleeping," they may be afraid to go to sleep for fear they'll never wake up.  This goes back to the issue of honesty; they aren't sleeping, so why tell children that they are . . .
5. Be open to the wisdom of children.  In talking to my six year-old about the meaning of life and death, I found myself wondering who was learning from who.  Many of her questions astounded me, but what amazed me the most was her simple acceptance of death as a sad but necessary part of life.  
6. Admit it when you don't know.  "Mommy," my daughter asked, "If his eyes stay in his body, how will he see us from heaven?"  Ummm . . . . I found out the hard way that it's quite difficult to explain the concept of bodies and souls to your child when your own belief system isn't clearly defined.  Death forces us as adults to confront issues that we push to the back of our minds in everyday life; children force us to admit when we ourselves are struggling to find the answers.  If you don't know, tell them you don't know.  But then involve them in your quest for answers.  For us, this means a renewed conviction to attend church regularly.  For you, it may be something very different.  Don't feel like you're supposed to always know the answers; instead make it a learning experience for both of you.

Have you faced the death of a loved one with your child?  How old were they?  How did you handle it?

Photo credit:  http://www.cebix.net/photos/misc/002.jpg

Dining Out With Kids: Do Children Belong In Fancy Restaurants?

Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/aodhanmorgan/2748777835/

For a lot of parents, the prospect of an evening spent dining out in a fine restaurant prompts an automatic call to the babysitter.  Children get chicken nuggets or spaghettio's while mom and dad enjoy a delicious and peaceful meal.  It's a win-win situation.

Or is it?

There seems to be an unspoken rule in our culture that there are restaurants where "children don't belong." 

You know, the kind with fine china and white tablecloths and servers who seem to have nothing better to do than stand there and watch you eat and anticipate your every move -- I've been to Tony's exactly once, and I don't care how good their food is, if fine dining means ten pairs of eyes watching me spill spaghetti down my front, then I don't need it anyway.  I looooove good food, but I hate snobbish pretentiousness. 

But I'm digressing . . .

For some reason, we expect to see children in only a certain "type" of restaurant -- the type with a drive-thru window or a clown with balloons or a Kid's Eat Free promotion.  Basically, any restaurant with a kid's menu comprised of the obligatory chicken fingers, Kraft macaroni and cheese, or hot dog and french fries.

Oh, and toasted ravioli if you live here in St. Louis.

But what are we teaching our children about food if we never let them experience what "real" food tastes like?  And more importantly, what are we teaching them about their place in the world? 

That they count less just because they're young?  That they aren't big enough or important enough to deserve a place at a real table or to eat food that won't clog their arteries and contribute to scores of health problems in the future?

Or is it that we as adults are too busy or too lazy to take the time to teach them the things they need to know and the manners they need to have in order to dine out successfully?

Because, yes, I know that there are people who don't want children in nice restaurants.  Check out this YouTube clip about a restaurant owner who put up a No Screaming Children sign.  Be sure to listen to the discussion at the end, because it's a complicated issue and you'll hear some interesting opinions.




Now, I know that there are plenty of people who are annoyed by children in general.  I remember that old cliche about how children should be seen and not heard.  But children have to learn somehow.  And they aren't going to learn manners and proper social graces unless we teach them to them and then take them -- gasp, horror -- out in public to places where they can practice these manners.

I actually agree that screaming children and bad behavior don't belong in a nice restaurant (or in any restaurant for that matter - just because you're at McDonald's is no reason to let your kids run wild). 

But I also know that most parents are doing their best, and sometimes it just happens.  Sometimes, it's your child who starts screaming in the restaurant, and you're the one getting the stares and the can't-miss vibes that "that child shouldn't even be in here in the first place." 

Which is kind of ironic because if you're anything like me you were probably already thinking "Oh my God, I shouldn't have brought him in here in the first place."

"What really needs to be recognized about children," writes Renee at Womanist Musings in her post My Child Takes Up Space, "is that they don't have the capacity to act in the same way that adults do.  This does not make them lesser beings and we need to find a way to accommodate them, even when they make drinking a latte a less than comfortable thing."  She goes on to write:

"Quite frankly it is not your business and I don't care how much you spent on a meal at a restaurant.  My children are not going to grow up with the idea that going to McDonald's is eating out because you think that their presence detracts from the ambiance."

Jenny at The Nourished Kitchen also has a great post on this issue entitled Raising Real Food Kids:  10 Tips For Dining Out With Your Child in which she offers practical solutions for the real-life dilemmas that you may encounter when you try to take your little ones to nice restaurants.

Her suggestions include things like arriving early before the restaurant is too busy, bring small, quiet toys, sitting outside or near an exit in case you need to make a quick getaway, and discussing restaurant etiquette before leaving home.

Taking children to eat in nice restaurants requires effort and planning.  It requires that we as parents have an idea of what type of food will be on the menu and are reasonably certain that we will be able to find something our children will enjoy.  It requires that we know how long they will be able to sit still.  It requires that we know not to take them into a quiet place when it's late at night and they are both tired and hungry.  It requires patience. 

Like most other acts of parenting, it requires work.

And I totally get that sometimes it's work that we're too tired to do. 

Sometimes, it's harder with one child than another.  When my daughter was 2, we took her to restaurants like The Drunken Fish (excellent St. Louis sushi, by the way) quite often, and she was always well-behaved.  Now that my son is 2, I can't imagine taking him into a restaurant like that.  It would be way too much stress for all involved, because he just doesn't have the capability to sit still and talk quietly that my daughter had at that age. 

But, you can count on it that as soon as he's a little older and a little more mature, he'll be going with us.

Because while I believe that screaming children don't belong in restaurants, and that a good family restaurant has its place, and that a babysitter and a child-free meal are fine once in a while -- or hell, every Saturday night if you can swing it -- I also believe that we should introduce our children to good food and good restaurants as soon as we feel they are ready.

I believe that our children deserve better than McDonalds, and that if we really want to, we can offer them so much more.

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Do you take your children to nice restaurants?  What are your favorite St. Louis restaurants for eating with your kids?  Are they all casual, or do you frequent some fancy places?  And what do you do when they can't behave? 

Getting Sappy: Reflections of Motherhood Video From Nummies.com

Okay, maybe the following video is a little sappy, but I still like it and think it's worth sharing.  Since I find that I tend to get a little snarky on my here sometimes, it can't hurt to have something a little more positive and uplifting once in a while . . .

Nummies.com asked moms what they would tell they're pre-baby selves if they could go back in time. 

These are their answers.

My personal favorite:

Google doesn't have children.



Which ones were your favorites?  What would you tell your pre-baby self if you had the opportunity?

The Mom Who Never Has A Camera

Before the birth of my first baby, my doula suggested that I bring a camera to the hospital and think about designating someone to take pictures in the delivery room. 

"You may regret it someday if you don't have any pictures.  At least this way, you'll have them if you want them."

I didn't take the pictures.

But that's just who I am. 

I'm the mom who never has a camera.

Anywhere you go, moms seem to have cameras.  Other women seem obsessed with documenting the tiniest details of their children's lives, from delivery onward.  They compile albums, they scrapbook, they have memberships to portrait studios because they visit them so frequently. 

This is not to say that I have no pictures or that I see no value in capturing freeze frames of fleeting moments.  When I remember, or when the camera happens to find it's way into my purse or my car, I've snapped some beautiful, candid shots.  The walls of my home are covered with many of my favorite family photos, and they are among my most cherished possessions.  But most of them are pictures I came by randomly, and only a couple are from real "sittings" with a professional photographer.  I like it that way.  It feels real to me.  It feels like I'm living my life with my family and occasionally taking snapshots as reminders of the good times we've enjoyed, rather than studiously documenting every moment for posterity.

Yes, there are times when I've missed capturing special moments because I haven't had my camera with me.  There are certainly pictures that I don't have and have come to wish I had taken. 

But for the most part, I like my haphazard way of collecting pictures -- an occasional portrait sitting here, some candid shots there.  It isn't right for everybody; I know that there are lots of women who love scrapbooking, and I'm sure that somewhere there are some who have even scrapbooked their births . . . 

As for me, I still haven't come to regret my decision not to take those birth pictures.  Those images are instead among the many rich and vivid memories that are stored carefully away on the hard drive of my mind.

And that's a hard drive that can never be erased.

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What kind of picture-taker are you?  Do you take tons of photos and schedule portrait sittings for every birthday?  Or do you always find yourself without a camera?  What kind of family photographs are important to you?

True Mom Confessions: I Sent My Daughter to Kindergarten Because She Watches Too Much TV

Photo credit: woodleywonderworks

Is it really possible that many St. Louis students are headed back to school next week?  In the midst of this heat wave?  Isn't this one of those, oh, I don't know, really good reasons why school didn't used to start until after Labor Day?  And am I actually at a point where I'm old enough to start remembering back in the day? 

Just kill me now . . .

My own daughter isn't currently a part of the back-to-school fanfare and won't be headed to school next week -- because we're still finalizing details of where we'll be moving to for this school year, and because I'm still wrestling with my eternally conflicted feelings about home school vs. public school vs. the private schools that we can't afford. 

So I've decided to share a post that I wrote last year, about my decision to send my daughter to kindergarten in Florida.  It was a tough one, and not one that was reached lightly.  But, in the end, it was also a good one.  A really good one.  So I'm hoping that, by revisiting my thinking back then, I'll be inspired to give myself a much-needed kick in the rear, and will be able to make a decision one way or the other about what to do this year.  And then, you know, move on.

Or maybe not.  I guess we'll see . . .

********************************

I sent my daughter to kindergarten because she watches too much TV.

Okay, that's not entirely true . . .

But it's a little more true than I would like it to be . . .

I know that, for most people, you send your child to kindergarten because he or she has turned five by whatever randomly designated "cutoff date" your home state has decreed. 

Or you have your child "tested," determine that you have a genius on your hands, and send little Johnny off a year early, despite the fact that, no matter how smart he is, he is in no way developmentally ready for the unavoidable emotional stresses of school.

Yes, that is an unnecessary smart-ass remark.

I, unfortunately, am not one of those people who is content to do something just because someone else said I should. 

Especially Florida's Department of Education. 

Do you remember the 2000 election and the stellar role that the state of Florida played in that disaster?  That tends to make me even more squeamish about the idea of the state government having any sort of a say in my child's education.

I have serious qualms with the public school system in general, and Florida's full-day kindergarten program in particular.  And yet, last month, I turned my precious 5 year-old daughter over to that very kindergarten program.

Why, you might ask?

It wasn't because she just happened to turn 5 before September 1.  It wasn't because I thought she needed social interaction.  It wasn't because I expected her to learn a lot, or thought they might actually teach her something worthwhile.  It wasn't even because I needed a break and wanted to have some time away from her.

It was mostly because of the Disney channel.

We love the Disney channel in our house:  Hannah Montana, The Suite Life (at the Tipton or On Deck), Sonny With A Chance, Wizards of Waverly Place . . . you get the picture.

Photo credit alacoolk

And except for the morning (when there is Playhouse Disney, as some of you may know) the shows are on ALL DAY LONG!!!

Now, letting my daughter sit on the couch and watch the Disney channel all day long is in no way my idea of good mothering.  And I can honestly -- and I'm breathing a sigh of relief here -- say that there has never been a day when this has happened.

But recently, we've come way too close.  I can slowly feel myself morphing into the kind of mom who would let her kids watch TV all day, every day if it meant that I could get even a moment of peace.

So I decided that school just might be a better alternative right now. 

For both of us.

She can get out of the house and away from her grouchy, overly-stressed mother, and interact with adults who aren't, well, me.

And I can have six hours a day free from her constant chatter.  I wouldn't call it a break, since I'm still chasing a wildly energetic 15 month-old, but at least he doesn't talk yet, and there are moments when I can actually hear myself think.

They're fleeting, but they are there.

Yes, I feel guilty.  I feel like she's going to school for the wrong reasons.  I worry that I'm killing her creativity and ruining her life.  I think about homeschooling, which was (and still is) attractive to me in so many ways, not the least of which is the fact that I wouldn't have to drag my tired self out of bed at the crack of dawn every morning -- okay, okay, neither would she -- I'm supposed to be thinking about what's best for her, not me, I know.

And there's this awesome thing called unschooling where you as a parent don't really have to do anything except trust that they'll learn what they need to know when they need to know it.

This ALL appeals to me.

But, at the moment, she loves kindergarten.  She loves her teacher and her classmates and all the daily drama and excitement that comes with a room full of 5 year-olds. 

Kindergarten, as it turns out, is a lot more entertaining than I am.   

And even though I like to think that, if she were home during the day, I would do all sorts of fun, enriching activities, I know that it would never happen.  When you're at a point in your life where you're asking yourself what on earth made you decide that you had it together enough to actually try and raise other people, it just doesn't feel like the best time to take on more responsibility.

So, at least for the time being, I chose kindergarten over the Disney channel.  Was it the right choice?  I don't know. My hope is that the public school system will teach my daughter something more valuable than what she might learn from Miley Cyrus.

My fear is that it won't.

****************************

In case you were wondering, I'm at a much better place in my life now than I was when I wrote this a year ago . . .   

And, yes, my daughter did, in fact, learn more in kindergarten than she would have from Miley Cyrus -- and, given the year that Miley has had, I'm glad that I chose to separate them :)

But I still maintain my overall concerns with our public school system, whether in Florida or Missouri or any other state.  One positive experience, with one particular teacher, in one particular school, can't negate what is, overall, a very flawed system.

So now what?  

Now, I have some serious thinking to do.

Do Parents Really Hate Parenting?

Ask just about any parent you know, and they'll tell you that they're happy that they have kids.  If it's a casual acquaintance, they will probably smile and tell you all about the adorable qualities their offspring possess.  If it's someone you know a little better, they might share some colorful anecdotes about their more "challenging" parenting moments. 

Neither one, however, is very likely to tell you that sometimes parenting makes them very unhappy, even though chances are pretty good that it does.

But with the explosion of blogging in the past few years has come a new breed of parents who are willing to open up and share some of the uglier truths of their lives with their children.  Heather Armstrong of Dooce has built an entire brand around her willingness to talk openly and honestly about some of the harsher realities of her life as a mom.  Many other mom and dad bloggers have followed her lead, and you can now find all sorts of complaints and rants all over the internet bemoaning just how hard parenthood can be.

I think this is a good thing.  Because parenting is hard, and it isn't always going to make you happy.  If we don't talk about the difficuties and the dark moments and share our experiences, we can be left feeling like we're the only ones, and that things would be easier if only we could get our act together and be more like everyone else.  That doesn't do anyone any good. 

So I'm a big fan of the brave parents and bloggers who are willing to talk about the unhappy moments that their children bring to their lives.

And they are brave.  Because when these men and particularly women write about feeling depressed or dare to complain about the difficulties they face, the public backlash can be brutal.   When writer and mom Jennifer Senior wrote a piece entitled All Joy and No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting, over 600 comments flooded into New York Magazine in response.

Many were less than sympathetic to the plight of the modern parent, saying things like:   

"Why do some parents insist on making parenting harder

than it really is? Get some help and get some therapy, fast"

"don't have them and don't regret it"

"The immaturity and selfishiness of today's mothers is deeply disturbing"

Yeah, lots of support for parents over there (insert eye roll here).

In fact, the article goes a lot deeper than it's title implies.  Senior explores the nature of what truly constitutes happiness, and questions what it is that compels parents to find joy in parenthood, even when they feel like they're struggling through on a daily basis.  She finds that in general, parents seem to be less happy overall than non-parents, but also that parents experience moments of greater joy. 

And most importantly, that despite their diminished happiness, most parents still wouldn't change their decision to have kids.  Senior writes:  

"Children may provide unrivaled moments of joy.  But they also provide unrivaled moments of frustration, tedium, anxiety and heartbreak . . .  Loving one's children and loving the act of parenting are not the same thing."

Which I think sums up parenthood beautifully and accurately. 

We can proclaim our love for our children and complain about how hard it is to raise them in the same breath.  We can love certain aspects of parenthood and loathe other ones.  We don't always have to be happy, and we don't have to listen to the haters who claim that we made our bed and now have to lie in it.

I don't think that most parents hate parenting.  I know that I certainly would have made the decision to be a stay-at-home mom if the act of parenting my children was something I didn't enjoy at least most of the time.

But I do think that it's perfectly legitimate to dislike, or even sometimes hate, certain aspects of parenting.  It doesn't make you a bad parent, or mean that you love your children any less.

"Loving one's children and loving the act of parenting are not the same thing."

Thank you, Jennifer Senior.  I'm taping this to my refrigerator.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be repeating this phrase to myself many, many times a day. 

A Mother's Rage: Diffusing Our Anger and Disciplining Ourselves

In a recent article for Babble, Liane Kupferberg Carter writes about "that irate moment no one can adequately warn you about, when hostility and sarcasm shove aside reason and patience, and you suddenly sense your own terrifying rage."

"Does anyone else get this mad?" she asks.

My answer?

Hell yes.

Raising children isn't for the faint of heart.  We come into it with high ideals, expectations of hugs and kisses and angelic faces that look to us with nothing but adoration and a loving desire to do exactly as we say.

Does that happen in your house?

Mine either.

We have our moments, when I get told that I'm the best mom in the world and my two children fight over my lap.  When I look at them and can't imagine my life without them and wonder how it's possible to love two little people with such fierce intensity.

More often, it seems, we have other moments.

Moments when an argument over a doll or a dump truck suddenly escalates into World War III. 

Moments when a six year-old's desperate attempt to play a video game far beyond her capabilities ends in a full-fledged temper tantrum of over-reaction and a cascade of self-loathing and self-doubt. 

Moments when dinner gets burned because a two year-old is clawing at my leg and just can't wait. 

Moments when my sanity is in question and I have to be the grown-up even when I don't feel like a grown-up and at the same time am desperately wishing there were another grown-up in the room with me.

And I get mad. 

Actually, I go way beyond mad.   

I can feel the rage bubbling up inside of me, as if I'm a volcano on the verge of explosion.  I want to lose my temper.  I want to verbally unleash.  I want to hit.  I want to run and lock myself in my bedroom and hide. 

I think about the mom who left her kids with her husband in the middle of the night and ran off to Utah.

There.  I said it.  Out loud. 

Yes, sometimes, I get that angry too.  So angry that it scares me.  And Carter is right.  That kind of rage can be terrifying.

But, here's the important thing:  I don't act on it.  Sure, there have been times when I've lost my temper and yelled and said things that shouldn't have been said.  I'm human.  But I don't hit.  I don't run and hide. 

And I would never, ever actually take off and leave my children behind, as enticing as that fantasy might occasionally be.

How do I manage this?

Discipline. 

Not for my kids.  For me.

I noticed a long time ago that when I get mad at one of my children and have a desire to yell or hit, it's more often about me and my emotions than it is about my child's behavior.  It's usually because I haven't gotten enough sleep, or because I have stress in other areas of my life that has nothing to do with my kids. 

Or because I'm trying too hard to control their behavior and make them do what I want, instead of listening to them as individuals and guiding them when they need to find a better way.

It's because I haven't taken the time to breathe, to step back and look at the bigger picture.

In our country, the word discipline usually has negative connotations.  It is most often associated with punishments such as spanking or time-outs.  But I prefer to think of discipline as a method of teaching and self-improvement.  And I can't expect to teach this to my children if I don't lead by example.

So when the drama and the screaming begin, I let myself feel the anger.  Because anger is a real and legitimate response to a difficult situation.  The daily grind of raising children can be overwhelming, particularly when it's coupled with the other stresses of our everyday lives.

I don't think that feeling anger, or even rage occasionally, is either bad or unnaural. 

I tend to think the opposite is true, that it would be unnatural if you didn't sometimes experience these emotions.

Anger and rage, like physical pain, can be taken as a sign that something is not right.  If we use our anger in this way, we can use a very negative emotion to achieve a positive outcome. 

If we are angry at our children for not playing as we would like, we need to figure out how to teach them a better way to play.  If we are angry because we feel out of control, we need to either take control or learn to relinquish our desire for control. 

A mother's rage doesn't have to be a bad thing.  Sure, if we can't get it under control, or if it continually  appears in response to the tiniest of infractions, or if we act on that rage in a way that hurts our children, rage can become a real and serious problem. 

But occasional feelings of anger and even rage can also help us to see that things aren't working as they are.  It can help us to find a better way.

When I took childbirth education classes in the Bradley method, I learned how physically tensing the body can actually intensify pain.  It's funny, but those classes have helped me a lot more post-baby than they did in the delivery room. 

When my kids get loud and crazy and upset, I may yell for a minute or two.  But then I get remarkably calm.  I might be inwardly seething -- much like the way I was writhing in pain through the contractions of labor -- but on the outside, I look calm.  I breathe slowly.  I speak slowly.  And softly.  I don't yell, no matter how much I might want to.  I remember to breathe slowly, and slowly, miraculously, my anger dissipates.

I look at my children and really see them.  I see how little they are, and how much they need me to help them cope with life.  I remember how fiercely I love them.  I apologize for being angry.

And, together, we find a better way.            

Host A Healthy Home Party!

We've all heard the latest news stories about the importance of "going green," but if you're like me, you may not know where to start.  One easy way?  Host a Healthy Home Party!

Healthy Child Healthy World, a nonprofit organization devoted to protecting children from harmful chemicals, has partnered with companies LUNA and Kleen Kanteen to help educate families and develop community awareness of the harmful chemicals hidden in our everyday lives.  For a tax-deductible donation of $20, every host will receive one complete Healthy Home Party Kit, which includes everything you'll need for your party--guides, fliers, brochures, a DVD to show, as well as several samples from many of their sponsors to share with your guests.  It's that easy, and you can invite as few or as many people as you like!

For more information about hosting a party, or to find out more about reducing chemicals in your own homes, visit the Healthy Child website at http://www.healthychild.org/.  They have some great resources, including:

• a list of the five basic products you need for green cleaning
• ideas for limiting your child's intake of food additives
• information about chemicals in care-products (lotions, shampoos, etc.) for babies and kids
• a "green" shopping guide
• an Action Kit developed by the real-life Erin Brockovich to help you take control and protect your children from exposure to toxic chemicals

So check it out.  And if you decide to host a party, take pictures and let me know what you think!

The Mommy Blogger In All Of Us

When I first considered becoming a blogger, I did my homework.  I researched the various types of blogs, read books about how to make money as a blogger, and spent way too much time surfing through the blogosphere.  Along the way, I stumbled upon a fascinating creature that intrigued me, yet also left me feeling slightly disturbed.

I discovered the mommy blogger. 

As a mother of two young children, who enjoys writing about all things mommy-related, I might have immediately embraced the role of mommy blogger as one for which I am ideally suited.

I, however, chose not to.  In the beginning, my thinking went a little something like this: 

I do not, under any circumstances, want to be one of these women.  

I do not want to share intimate stories about how I can't pee in privacy with the rest of the world. 

I do not want to inundate the internet with pictures of my half-dressed children.  

I do not believe anyone cares about my narcissistic belief that said children are endlessly entertaining and adorable. 

I do not want to churn out poorly written and gramatically incorrect anecdotes about the most mundane details of my existence on a daily basis. 

I do not want to chase advertising deals with big-name companies who offer me peanuts in return.  

I do not want to use my blog as my personal therapy session, with my readers as my therapists. 

I do not want to churn out post after post under the misguided belief that a six-figure book deal is just around the corner.

I do not need to join the masses and become just another number sharing the same old story about how I used to be hot but have learned to love making baby food. 

I do NOT want to be a "mommy blogger." 

Yes, my first reaction was fairly negative.     

I'm pretty certain that the poor writing I came across so often had much to do with it.  Anyone who enters adulthood armed with an English degree is cursed to go through life constantly decrying our national inability to use the words "their, "there" and "they're" correctly.  They're not interchangeable, people!!!!

Shouldn't there be some prerequisite for starting a blog?  Like maybe a basic grasp of the English language?

But, despite all that, I've had a change of heart.  I've decided that my inner mommy blogger is a creature worth embracing.

Why?

At first glance, mommy blogs may seem to be about trivial things, and that makes it all too easy to trivialize their contribution to the world at large.  But don't be fooled.  Mommy bloggers are making a contribution.

The lives and experiences and perspectives of the women who write these blogs are real.  Even the blogs that aren't so well-written are having an impact, because there are still people listening to what their authors have to say. 

And the blogs that are well-written?  These blogs and the women behind them are out to change the world, and they're building the audience they need to do it successfully. 

Mommy bloggers may be laughing (and sometimes crying) about their exploits with their kids, and some may be questioning their choices and looking to change their lives, but these women are also addressing the deeper issues head-on.

Mommy bloggers are talking about more than potty-training and Elmo.  They're addressing real issues that most of the "puff" pieces in the big parenting magazines fail to even mention. 

They're talking about jobs and husbands and gender roles and childbirth and breastfeeding and why they feel so judged by other moms. 

They're talking about the complicated decision to stay at home or go to work.  They're talking about war, and politics, and sex and sippy cups.  They're commenting on breaking news as it happens. 

They're connecting with other women who share their experiences and opinions and passions.  They're building a community for themselves and making their voices heard.  They're numbers are growing and those voices are getting louder. 

Mommy blogging is not just about being a mommy; it's about being a women in a world where that's not easy. 

It's about embracing motherhood as a valid and integral part of the female experience. 

It's about telling it like it is, and addressing the real issues that plague women as mothers openly and honestly.  It's about commiserating with like-minded women, and discussing and disagreeing with others who see things differently than you. 

It's about admitting when you're wrong, and when you've changed your mind.  It's about making each other laugh, and also sometimes cry.  It's about joining together, and saying the things that need to be said.

Every mother has a story and an opinion that deserves to be heard.  There's a mommy blogger in all of us.

 I've embraced mine.  Where's yours?

Organic Produce: Does It Matter?

In case you haven't been able to tell, I'm a fairly big advocate for healthy food.  My kids eat whole-grain bread and brown rice and natural peanut butter without complaint.  They know not to ask for things like Kool-Aid at the grocery store.  Fruits and vegetables are a large part of their diet.  But for all my interest in healthy eating, I haven't made one crucial switch:  I haven't started buying organic.

I'm starting to rethink this one. 

A new study released yesterday links pesticide exposure to ADHD in children, and while I question our national obsession with labeling kids with these kinds of "disorders," I can't argue with the study's finding that 94% of children tested showed compounds from pesticides in their urine.  And it's hard to keep telling myself that buying organic isn't really that important when a 2008 study proved that, when children switch to organically grown fruits and vegetables, the pesticide compounds in their urine drop to undetectable levels.  Wow.

So why haven't I switched to organic before now?  In a word, cost.  I've always known that organic produce is better for my kids (and myself), even if I've also insisted on burying my head in the sand and purposely NOT reading the articles that remind me why organic is a better choice.  But when you're standing in the grocery store, looking at one pint of strawberries that costs $2 and another that costs $6 and your grocery budget is only so much, it seems like a no-brainer.  I would love to buy the organic, I tell myself, but I just can't afford to right now.    

Or maybe I can't afford not to.  Maybe I'm irreparably damaging my children every time I feel like a good mom and serve them fresh fruits and vegetables.  Maybe they would be better off if I just handed them a box of ding-dongs.  Are there pesticides in processed foods?  Isn't anything good for you anymore? 

(Ignore this last paragraph or simply take it for what it is -- the stream-of-consciousness ramblings that go through my head every time I try to make a decision about any complicated issue that relates to my children.  I'm guessing other moms can relate.)

Anyway, next time I'm shopping, I'm going to take a second look at the organic produce.  I'll pay particularly close attention to the strawberries, apples, and spinach that are a family favorite, but also sit on the list of Top 12 Fruits and Vegetables You Should Buy Organic.  And before you panic too much, rest assured that there is also a "Clean 15" list of fruits and vegetables that are the least likely to be contaminated by pesticides, and therefore considered "safer" to buy in the non-organic variety.

Okay, so I've officially decided that I should be buying at least some organic produce.  My next mission:  to figure out how I'm going to pay for it.