mamamania

Onwards and sideways!

2011-06-29T16:36:00.001-07:00

Spelling

2011-05-24T21:30:00.001-07:00

I don't know whether to blame it on Spanish immersion, or today's day and age - but here's Mia's latest spelling mishap.

"My brother and I were hungry so wii went to the kitchen..."

Mother Superior

2011-01-12T22:47:00.000-08:00

Every now and then I complain—just a teeny bit—about being a parent. All the time spent driving kids to gymnastics and soccer. Constant coordination of their social lives—sometimes even at the expense of my own. Visits to the library. Making healthy, zero-waste lunches. Homework. But in my dark moments, I’ve consoled myself by thinking about the joyous moments when my son, smiling, shows off the movie “camera” that he made with recycled boxes with real “film” made of strips of paper. Or when my daughter puts on her Vegas-style show featuring three hula hoops.

Then I read Amy Chua’s article “Why Chinese Mothers are Superior” in the Wall Street Jounal and realized what a fool I’ve been. For years, I’ve been worried about whether my children are happy, have friends, are nice to each other, and care about the global community. All this time I’ve wasted, when I should have been focused on raising successful kids.

Why, oh why, did I worry about whether my daughter was making friends in kindergarten? Why did I schedule playdates when she was feeling left out? All that time wasted, when I could have been teaching her about fractions or drilling her on multiplication tables, in preparation for life as a math whiz.

When my son told me he wanted to take a break from practicing piano, why did I let him build aimlessly with his legos? Or play with Coke and Mentos in the backyard. Or, worst of all, flop down on the sofa and watch MythBusters? Oh, those precious moments when he could have been perfecting his scales and learning Tchaikovsky.

Amy Chua made me realize how neglectful I’ve been of the most important aspect of parenting: achievement. It was so freeing to read her article and become aware of how foolishly I’ve attended to my children’s feelings. My chidren can’t possibly enjoy learning or feel confident unless they are number 1 in the class. Playing the piano couldn’t possibly be fun unless they are on stage at Carnegie Hall.

And I definitely don’t need to stress about the fact that my son has dyslexia. Since being number 1 in his class is all that matters, I will simply yell at him until I am hoarse, put all of his toys in the dumpster, and refuse to let him go to the bathroom until he can read Harry Potter. Chua says I am wrong to worry about his psyche. If he has problems, I should simply tell him that he is “worthless” and “a disgrace.” That will certainly help him overcome his challenges

It was also wonderful that Chua confirmed what I’ve always suspected—that I know what’s best for my children. In the past I’ve had moments of self-doubt. After all, I work as a writer, not a pediatrician, psychologist, or teacher. Now there will be more listening to their own desires and preferences. No more sleepovers. No more games of Uno or Gobblet before bedtime. No more allowing my son to read Calvin and Hobbes and call it homework. And especially no more spontaneous dancing to “Dynamite.” No need to worry about whether they will be psychologically scarred—their achievement will build confidence. From now on, I will focus only on being a superior mother.

How Cook's Illustrated "Best 30 Minute Recipe" has changed my life

2010-09-21T14:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes--if my imagination is on overdrive and I squint really hard--when I look at my living room I don't see piles of toys or stains on the carpet. I see something worthy of Architectural Digest: my living room the way it was meant to be. Not the reality of what it is.

So many things about my life are different from what I'd thought they would be. First, I imagined a big, sprawling Craftsman-style house like the one in "Thirtysomething." I would publish a new critically-acclaimed novel each year. My writing would be effortlessly juggled with caring for my lovely, well-mannered, over-achieving children and putting a different gourmet meal on the table each night. (Which the kids would eat without complaining.) I'd barely break a sweat while running 6 miles each morning. My husband would happily take out the trash.

It's worked out a little differently. I love my house, but it is definitely more modest and has essentially no back yard. I have yet to finish a book - or even a chapter! My jeans are all a little too tight. And sometimes at the grocery store I pretend that I don't know my children, because they are that rambunctious. There are times that I feel like I'm not really successful in any aspect of my life.

Thank goodness for the "Best 30 Minute Recipe" book. To be completely honest, very few of the recipes actually take me only 30 minutes. Most are in the 45-60 range. But what it does enable me to do, is to put something different/interesting/delicious on the table just about every night. And it isn't just combing different canned or pre-prepared foods (sorry Rachel Ray). I'm toasting spices, sauteing aromatics, using fresh ingredients. Just doing it really quickly.

Thanks to Cook's Illustrated, when we are eating our skillet chicken pot pie, or Italian Bean soup, or tortellini salad with arugula and pine nuts, I can - for twenty minutes - taste the sweetness of success.

Don't judge a book by its pages

2010-04-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

I'm writing a book. Okay, to be totally honest, it is really just a chapter. Although the idea first came to me about ten years ago, it was only last summer that I started in earnest. My boss, Barbara (who is, by the way, a published novelist), told me that if you just write a page every day you can be done in a year. Unfortunately I'm a year in, and I'm still working on the opening scene.

Clearly Barbara doesn't need to endlessly rethink each scene over and over again the way I do. (Should it be fall or spring? Do they meet at a party or a museum? Does she have a child from her previous marriage?) It would be nice if I could finish my book, but I've given up hope of really doing it - at least any time this decade. Even so, I don't want to give it up.

Sure, it's one part vanity. People I know from college are running companies, managing magazines, publishing books, editing films, and managing TV news shows, while I struggle to finish the laundry, pick up carpool, and get my kids to school on time. Even though my book is very much a work in progress, I can project the sense of "being in the game" if I'm at least working on a book.

But it's much more than what I project to the outside world. My book also keeps me from feeling badly about my current failures. While I do many things - work, parent, yoga, volunteer at our school - I'm not particularly good at any of them. My job performance may be mediocre, my kids may run wild at a restaurant, or my sink may be piled high with dishes, but I feel a little better when I can say to myself, "well at least I'm writing a book."

Sometimes my life feels overwhelming. I have two kids that are in two separate elementary schools. My son is really struggling with dyslexia. My husband travels a lot. Last year our dishwasher, car, furnace, and refrigerator all broke. I work half time. I rarely have time to see my friends (the ones I have left). My jeans are too tight.

My two saving graces are my yoga classes (which give me the peace of mind to deal with my kids) and my book. When I get stressed out by my current reality, I can escape by worrying about my protagonist's relationship with her mother, or where she and her impossibly handsome boyfriend will first have sex. It's easier - and a whole lot more fun - than worrying about my own problems.

"Real" writers always say that you need to fully commit. That you need to forget about running out of ketchup, or keeping up with all of your friends, or getting anywhere on time. I'm not in a position right now where I can fully commit to anything more than trying to get my kids to school on time. So it might be a decade before my book is finished. It might not ever be finished at all. But for me, it will be one of the best books I've ever read.

Gotta go work on today's paragraph.

Where did the time go?

2010-04-23T20:52:00.001-07:00

Wow, have I really not written since last July? I blame it all on Facebook. Which I kind of hate. More to come soon!

Old Dog, New Tricks

2009-07-02T16:56:00.000-07:00

I’m not much of an athlete. I have friends – other parents – who play on soccer teams, or run in marathons, or go rock climbing. Some who’ve taken up tennis, or golf, or snowboarding. I’ve never been the kind of person who could pick up a new sport and be good at it, so with two kids and a part time job, I stick to the activities I know, ones that are so routine that they can be enjoyed with minimal prep time and no learning curve. I follow the same fall line down the same ski runs over and over; I’ve done the same yoga routine for eight years. Not much of a challenge, but not much an achievement either. Perhaps this explains the bizarrely enormous sense of accomplishment that I had last month when I learned to surf.

We were vacationing at Hanalei Bay and put our kid (ages 5 and 6) into a surfing lesson. They’ve had years of swimming instruction, and are accomplished on skis and scooters. We weren’t surprised that they were instantly good at it. It was amazing to see how quickly they were able to stand, with knees bent and arms held wide, and ride waves right onto the sand. Their father and I clapped each other on the back, congratulated ourselves on how wonderful our children are, and what good parents we must be, and ran around like lunatics as we tried to capture the perfect shot with the video camera.

I’m used to getting most of my validation through my children. No one ever says, “hey, you’re a great car-pooler” or “you do a hellava job making sure your family never runs out of toothpaste.” Unfortunately, these days I get my sense of accomplishment through my children’s achievements. Mia counted by tens to a thousand! Miles read a book!

In Kauai the kids floated over the waves again and again to shore, laughing manically, thirst and hunger forgotten, experiencing a joy more intense than with almost anything else they’ve ever done. They surfed in side by side on parallel boards, they rode in tandem on a long board, even on the shoulders of the instructor.

As I stood in the warm Hawaiian water, watching them, I had a crazy, insane, wild idea. It occurred to me that I could try it too. Yes, I, too, could have fun. When they finally needed a break for Gatorade and pretzels, I took a turn.

I got on the board, wobbled like mad, and slid off into sea. I got on again, wobbled again, and the water hit my face like a slap. My children laughed, and I’m sure many of the locals fishing on the pier. After many more slides, and mouthfuls of salt water, I finally got onto my knees. From there it was only a few more tries before I was able to stand – stand! – on the longboard. And then I was floating in the water with the instructor, who shouted “now” and gave me a push each time a good wave came in. And I stood on the water, balanced like a warrior two, and floated into shore.

I was jubilant.

That night, over dinner, the kids and I eagerly talked about getting our own surfboards, already planning the next time we could come to Hanalei Bay.

I was so proud. The feeling was all out of proportion to the two hundred yards that I actually surfed. But who cares?

As a parent I have very little time for myself. I try to squeeze in a yoga class each week – two if I’m lucky! – and have the occasional night out alone with my husband. Even when my children are asleep, it seems that most of my activities are centered around them – cleaning up the dinner dishes, packing lunches, folding laundry. Maybe it is finally time to make time for myself. Maybe it is time to take up some new sports. Maybe it is time to finally start my novel. The kids can make their own lunches. This old dog is going to learn some new tricks.

Mother's Day..Prison...

2009-05-12T19:57:00.001-07:00

For Mother's Day we went to Alcatraz. We usually like to do a big outing (last year we went biking at Tennessee Valley, the year before to Angel Island) but since the kids are both barely off of training wheels we're constrained as to how far we can ride. So we decided to take a ferry instead.

When the kids get mad at each other, they usually say something along the lines of, "You're stupid. You're going to jail." So we decided to go to a real jail. There's probably also a parallel between prison and parenthood, but I'm not going to go there...

Anyway, I'm happy to report that although several threats were made, no one was left behind!

I Need a Vacation!

2009-03-18T11:51:00.000-07:00

Having one of those days when I'm feeling sad about not ever travelling. Not so much that I want to get away from my children (although I wouldn't mind!), but just feeling a little bored of not experiencing anything "new". I think it was set off by two things -- reading a really good book that takes place in England, and hearing about my boss' planned vacation to England. She said the fares are cheap now!
So I think it is time to check my frequent flier account and start planning my promised 40th birthday trip!

More on Tempers

2009-02-17T12:34:00.001-08:00

Why is it that when I lose my temper, I always find it again? Not so with socks, sunglasses, and Miles' sweaters.

Doing it All

2009-02-07T15:11:00.000-08:00

I recently reconnected (thank you, Facebook!) to a good friend from high school. It is always a little weird to write about someone who might possibly read this, so hopefully I won't offend her. But, anyway, through our correspondence I found out that 1) she is pregnant with child #5 and 2) she has written a book. Either one is an amazing accomplishment. But both?? I've been scratching my head ever since. Does she have a nanny? Does she never sleep? Is her husband incredibly helpful? Is she super-human? Even with all of the above, I don't think I could do it. So my hat is off...

Zero to Sixty in Three Seconds

2009-01-29T09:00:00.000-08:00

Nothing in the world can make me as mad - as quickly - as my son. One minute I am standing there, a calm, poised, peaceful parent. And the next I am in a white storm of rage. Usually it happens when we are in a hurry to get out the door. I've rushed him through brushing his teeth, and we're in route to get shoes on, and then he casually stops and starts taking legos out of the drawer. As if he has nothing better in the world to do. As if I haven't said a hundred times in the past three minutes "it's time to go to school." And when I try to move him past the legos, he says, "I just have to do this one thing." Which, if I let him do it, takes about ten minutes. And then we're late for school. Even though we live on the next block. At this point, my head is about to explode.
I've been wondering why it is that Miles can make me so angry, so quickly, when no one else in the world does. It isn't as if his sister is jumping to attention to get her shoes on either. I've concluded that I just have built up a lot of frustration during the six and a half years that he has been ignoring everything I tell him to do.
All I can do at this point is take a deep breath, and try to get myself back down to 20 MPH.

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth

2009-01-28T23:27:00.001-08:00

Warning: Whiny, ungrateful, petulant, selfish thoughts ahead....

It is the end of January and I'm still frustrated about Christmas! I just finished returning the duplicate gifts. I had to drive 1/2 hour to the store to return them, and then 1/2 hour back.

Other gifts came in huge boxes of styrfoam peanuts. Not only bad for the environment, but VERY messy in my house.

But with all these gifts, what my kids really want are Tae Kwon Do lessons. Which cost a whopping $4,000 annually.

And our public school is facing huge budgets cuts, which will not likely be made up for by our largely low income family base.

Here's my wish for the next holidays. I wish instead of toys (which we are already drowning in) that they would give my kids cash. Or even better, give it to the PTA.

But whatever happens, I hope people will keep the peanuts to themselves.

Teach Your Children Well

2009-01-27T17:32:00.001-08:00

Yesterday the director of Mia's preschool - who I love and admire - said to me, apropos of nothing, "Have you ever thought of being a preschool teacher? I think you'd be good at it."

First I was shocked. Then I was saddened. She must not know me very well!

Typing Test

2009-01-05T14:12:00.001-08:00

I just did the test at typingtest.com. I can type 81 words per minute, with 98% accuracy. Too bad all the other things I learned in life didn't stick with me so well.

Everybody Have Fun Tonight

2008-12-26T12:27:00.000-08:00

When Mia was about a year and a half old, we had a transformative family moment. We were in Hawaii, at Ke'e Beach in Kauai. (It is the last beach on the north shore before the NaPali coast - my husband swears it is the most beautiful place on earth.) We were splashing around in the waves, and I suddenly realized that it was the first time since she was born that all four of us were having fun AT THE SAME TIME. Before that if the kids were having fun the parents were miserable. Or if the parents were having fun, the kids were miserable. Sometimes everyone was miserable. But at Ke'e Beach we saw that it was possible for all of us to be having fun at once.

We had another transformative moment this week in Tahoe. Mia graduated to the high speed chairlift, Roundhouse, at Alpine Meadows. Okay, so she has a particular route that she needs to pick her way down. But the important thing is that I'm not stuck on the slow, bunny slope chair that is a unique form of torture. Today we were able to all four ride the chairlift up together, and ski down together. And I didn't want to rip off my helmet and tear my hair out. Yes, skiing with your kids can actually be fun!

Mani Milestone

2008-12-11T15:43:00.000-08:00

Today was a major milestone. For the first time, Mia and I went together to get our nails done! I know, at first blush it doesn't sound like much. But this is a cherished activity for me -- and for the past six years I've had to arrange childcare if I want to enjoy it. And this year, I have only a couple of free hours - at best - each week. This morning,I was trying to think of how I could possibly sneak a mani into an already packed week. Then it hit me like a bolt of lightening. Shazaam! Take her!

A few weeks ago, Mia went to a spa birthday party. Which could have been a really disturbing thing, if the parents, friends, and little girl herself weren't so down to earth. As it turned out, it was great fun. And Mia sat quietly as her hair was curled and sprayed with purple glitter, and as her nails were painted blue.

Today, she chose to alternate pink and purple. The manicurist happily indulged what I would consider to be questionable color choices. But most importantly, Mia sat still. She had fun. We both had fun. I was actually able to sit until my own nails were all the way dry. I even got to flip through an issue of People.

I see it as the start of a new era. We'll try pedicures next!

Afterlife

2008-12-09T18:30:00.000-08:00

Today I was driving in the car with Mia who was singing along to the Beatles, "Help me if you can I'm feeling down, and I do appreciate your being around..." It occured to me suddenly how great it would be if there was an afterlife and I could meet John Lennon.

It would be worth being good for.

Look Ma! No Training Wheels!

2008-12-07T12:23:00.000-08:00

First the tooth, then the training wheels. What accoutrement of childhood will my son lose next??

I am so proud of my little city boy, learning to ride without training wheels!

Milestones

2008-12-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

I haven't written in a long time. It has been a very busy fall. We started three schools, and quit two. The good news is that everyone is happy!

But we have had a number of exciting Milestones to report on.

Miles is starting to read - a little bit. He read a few pages of a Dick and Jane book to me last weekend. We've noticed that he is pretty risk adverse and doesn't like to do something unless he knows he can get it right. And also that he doesn't mind asking his little sister for help! But it was quite exciting to see him actually READ.

Miles lost his first tooth! (The fairy brought him $5!!)

And the best of all...
Last weekend, while Mike and I were sleeping, Miles took it upon himself to make us coffee. It was a teensy bit on the weak side, but still quite drinkable. I'm hoping this new development doesn't result in him burning himself, or burning the house down. But it is the start of an exciting trend of him taking care of his parents!!

My Lobotomy

2008-09-17T12:35:00.000-07:00

When Mike and I first got married, we got advice from several people that to have a successful marriage you needed to "surrender", to let things that would normally bother you just roll off of your back. My friend David Gunn called it being a duck. Unfortunately neither Mike or I are very good at that, but we try.

The same principal holds true for parenting. You need to be able to roll through tense situations with patience, otherwise you can throw gasoline on the fire of your children's tiredness, emotion, and naughtiness.

This isn't always easy for me. But things are so much better now that I have had my lobotomy. Things that used to drive me crazy don't seem to bother me any more. You need the pink cup? Fine! Want me to make oatmeal after I already scrambled eggs? Sure! Need to run around the grocery store like a lunatic grabbing everything that contains sugar? No problem! Want to mumble "stupid, stupid, stupid" under your breath for five minutes? Go right ahead!

It is a special lobotomy. I have to listen to the same Jam CD in the car over, and over, and over, and over again. And drink a lot of pinot gris. But still, it seems to be working.

The Good Old Days

2008-08-26T22:22:00.000-07:00

Heard on "Mad Men" tonight... "you wouldn't be the man you are today if your father didn't hit you." I love my kids, but this afternoon I was tempted!!

Visiting the East Coast

2008-08-23T00:05:00.000-07:00

We had a great trip back east - although I will think twice before I take the kids to Manhattan again. The highlight for me was Lake Winnepesauke, in what Miles kept calling "New Hampster." Finally Mia had to ask where the Old Hampster was...

Anyway, I think this picture sums up the bliss that is visiting the east coast with your cousins...

Sign of the Times

2008-07-31T22:54:00.001-07:00

I tried (unsuccessfully) this week to book a babysitter with whom I communicated exclusively via text messaging...

This is a scary concept for me... Am I going to be forced to keep up with the technology curve if I want to have childcare?

Full Circle

2008-07-23T22:27:00.001-07:00

Having learned the hard way that you need to order anything you want from a catalog within two weeks of receipt of said catalog or the size and color you want will be sold out (if you are talking about ANYTHING in black, size small you have just one week). Which is why I will look like crap all summer because even though I was sharp enough to order a beach cover up, I didn't get around to a bathing suit until it was TOO LATE.

I've already ordered Mia's back to school chocolate brown Mary Jane's from Lands End. They are darn cute. It occured to me as I opened the box, that we're coming full circle. Isn't Lands End owned by Sears? Did I own anything before age 12 that wasn't from Sears? Oh, how I loved my navy blue slip on sneakers...

It Was Bound to Happen

2008-07-11T16:06:00.001-07:00

when your gadget freak child starts learning to read....

Miles turned on the Tivo today and found his own Curious George show.

That's Entertainment

2008-06-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

As part of replacing my '80s cassettes with CDs, I recently purchased the Jam. And I'd completely forgotten how much I loved the song "That's Entertainment" from 1980. It's really one of the best songs ever -- even on the Rolling Stone top 500 of all time list -- and the more you play it the better it gets. My kids have probably heard it at least 30 times in the car. Miles is running around the house singing "slashed seat affairs!" Anyway, here's the video.

I think the song is an ironic take on the "That's Entertainment" movies from the '70s, which were these incredibly upbeat documentaries on the golden age of Hollywood Musicals. The song has a beautiful acostic guitar constrasted with gritty lyrics. It's hard to understand everything Paul Weller says, so I had to look up the words, but the opening lines, sung over a light acoustic sound are "a police car and a screaming siren, pnuematic drill and ripped up concrete...." It's brilliant.

So as my creative exercise for last week I decided to take a crack at it from my own perspective as a Mom in the new millenium.

Paul Weller's version:
A police car and a screaming siren
A pnuematic drill and ripped up concrete
A baby waiting and stray dog howling
The screech of brakes and lamplights blinking -
that's entertainment.

A smash of glass and the rumble of boots
An electric train and a ripped up 'phone booth
Paint splattered walls and the cry of a tomcat
Lights going out and a kick in the balls -
that's entertainment.

Days of speed and slow time Mondays
Pissing down with rain on a boring Wednesday
Watching the news and not eating your tea
A freezing cold flat and damp on the walls
that's entertainment.

waking up at 6 a.m on a cool warm morning
opening the window and breathing in petrol
an amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yard
watching the telly and thinking 'bout your holidays
thats entertainment

Waking up from bad dreams and smoking cigarettes
Cuddling a warm girl and smelling stale perfume
A hot summers' day and sticky black tarmac
Feeding ducks in the park and wishing you were faraway
that's entertainment.

Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnight
Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude
Getting a cab and travelling on buses
Reading the grafitti about slashed seat affairs
that's entertainment.

Mine:
Late dinner and two screaming kids
Bedtime Now! then folding laundry
Wash the dishes and make the lunches
Sauvignon Blanc and the New York Times
That’s entertainment.

I want the pink cup! and scramble eggs
Sweeping crumbs and picking up legos
Princess toothpaste and putting on sunscreen
Drive your carpool and get late to school
That’s entertainment.

Days of speed and slow time Mondays
Meeting at school on a boring Wednesday
The pediatrician and missing yoga
Can’t find a sitter and crayon on the walls
That’s entertainment

Waking up at 3am and its not yet morning
A leaky pull up and changing the sheets
Kindergarten waitlist for the nearby school
Watching TV and thinking ‘bout your credit card
That’s entertainment

Waking up from bad dreams and making coffee
Plucking greys and no time for a haircut
Jeans too tight and sticky black sweater
Two carts at Trader Joe’s and wishing you were far away
That’s entertainment

Husband watching the Wire at midnight
Two people missing the tranquilty of sleep
Buckle the car seat and go to swim lessons
Looking at United for the lowest fares
That’s entertainment

Stay tuned... I'll be rewriting Stairway to Heaven next! I guess it is safe to say that I have too much time on my hands.

Deceptively Delicious

2008-06-01T20:52:00.000-07:00

This will be my first blogger book review.

I was at the library with the kids last week, and while we were checking out, I saw a copy of Deceptively Delicious by Jessica Seinfeld sitting on the counter. So I checked it out too. This was the first time I've ever checked a cookbook out of the library. But I'd read so much about it - the plagurism allegations and stuff -that I was a little curious.

I'm giving it a thumbs down.

The retro style, which would be cute in an ad or a brochure, is downright annoying in a 100 plus page book. It has only been a few days, and I'm already tired of its pink plaid spine on my counter. Give me the Fleur d'Lys on Julia Child any day.

There are a lot of family references in the book. Even little cartoons of the children chiming in about how much they love the recipes. I'm sorry, but we're talking about Jerry Seinfeld's family here. I loved the Seinfeld show as much as anyone else - probably more since I was so proud that it was our college diner that was featured. But I'm sorry to say, that I'm just not interested in these little Jerries. In fact, I'm pretty turned off if you must know.

There are also many pages of parenting advice. Pages with cartoon Jessicas extolling us on how to get kids to behave at the table or to get kids to pack their own snacks. Jessica Seinfeld? Okay, I'll admit that I'm not such a great mother. But I haven't falledn so low that I need to get parenting advice from the wife of a celebrity....

So finally, and most importantly, there's the whole concept of the book. To sum it up, how to sneak pureed vegtables into other foods so your kids get more nutrition. I'm definitely on board with the sneaking. I regularly add shreded zuchinni into our pizza. But I had to wonder how much nutrition is really added to your kids diet if you sneak a tablespoonful of sweet potatos into the mix for their French Toast. Isn't it all drowned in syrup anyway?

The aspect of recycling food does have some appeal to me. There was a very disturbing article in the New York Times this week about how much food Americans waste. Why not make scrambled eggs the final resting place for our leftover calliflower?

But in the final analysis, I just can't get myself whipped up about this idea. Probably because my kids eat pretty well. It might feel nice to have a freezer full of pureed vegtables that are regularly added to my kids diet. But really, I'm much too lazy.

Matchy Matchy

2008-06-01T20:49:00.000-07:00

Today, at the Sports Basement, I found a really cute chocolate brown North Face fleece for Mia. It was so soft, I wished I had one too. So I went over to the women's section and found the same one for myself. Now we will match.

When I was little, my Mom and I had matching dresses - white with red polka dots. I think my doll had one too.

What a difference a generation makes.

Iron? What's that?

2008-05-28T21:43:00.001-07:00

My friend Sandy lives in Manchester, England and sends emails every few weeks with updates about her life. She just had baby #4. And she signed off her last email by saying, "I have to go do the ironing." And I was like, wow. You have four kids and you iron. I can't remember when the last time I ironed was. Or even where the iron is!

I remember right after Miles was born going to a birthday party, and a friend with two toddlers was there with the wrinkliest pants I've ever seen. And I thought, "I'll never let myself look like that..."

Yeah, right...

Mia's Ballet Recital

2008-05-21T22:12:00.000-07:00

My First Pair of Skis

2008-05-12T22:27:00.001-07:00

I'm the one on the right. And, yes, I'm old....

Clear Your Mind

2008-04-29T21:59:00.000-07:00

I went to yoga tonight. My instructor (aptly named Pretzel) said "empty your mind."

And I was like - are you kidding?

Birthday Secret

2008-04-27T22:21:00.000-07:00

Today was Mia's birthday party. We rented a jumpy house, which turned out to be enormous and completely filled our little postage stamp of a city back yard. For some reason it made us feel a teensy bit white trash to have this giant Disney princess jumpy house taking over our back. All the neighbors could see Cinderella's castle towers.

But here's the wonderful thing about jumpy houses: the kids jump. And when everyone went home, my house wasn't trashed.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

2008-04-27T22:07:00.000-07:00

On Saturday at the Randall Museum I ran into a friend who went to the same college and business school; now we are in the same book group. Another book clubber had told her about this blog, and she said I was a good writer. I swear it, she actually said the word "good." Out loud. And it made me feel, well, good...

As a stay at home Mom, I rarely hear the word "good" directed at me. Nobody has ever - nor are they likely to - said I'm a good Mom. And certainly I don't hear that I'm doing a terrific job with managing the kids' schedules. With grocery shopping. No one ever says, hey - you're a hell of a carpooler.

My friend Lisa said my haircut looked good. (Although she has a mission as my personal confidence booster - she always tells me I look good, so I don't really believe her.) And recently my husband asked me if my jeans were new -- he thought they looked good on me. They are actually two years old. It may be that he only takes a good look at me every couple of years, but at least he was nice when he did.

But it is not the same as hearing that something that you actually did was good.

So I felt good. And I was still feeling the good glow when we got home from the Randall Museum and found our letter from SF Unified telling us that once again we didn't get one of our kindergarten choices. And then I felt really bad.

We have a good school lined up, so we will be okay. But I do feel badly that the kindergarten Gods have continually said no, no, no, no to us. That they can't just once let us be the ones that make the choice.

So I had a good cry. And even Lisa couldn't have said I looked good.

Roughing It

2008-04-27T09:03:00.001-07:00

Since we've been reading the "Little House" series I find myself constantly laughing at how reliant our family is on modern conveniences -- dishwasher, Internet, hair dryer, house cleaner.... Nevertheless, I'm still finding it quite inconvenient that we got a new cable box a month ago and Mike still has not hooked it up to the Tivo.

Imposters

2008-04-26T15:24:00.000-07:00

For lunch today, Mia ate asparagas. And Miles asked Mike to take him out for sushi, where he gobbled teriaki chicken and edamame.

I want to send a message to the person who took my real children and replaced them with these look-alikes that are much more agreeable. "It's okay. You can keep them."

Planet Earth

2008-04-22T22:59:00.000-07:00

We are so much enjoying these DVDs. The footage is amazing, my kids are rapt and so am I. They are a little disturbed by some of the scenes, but only a little. Mia begged to watch the scene of the wolf hunting down the baby caribou again...

Little House on the Prarie

2008-04-21T13:44:00.000-07:00

Who would have ever thought it, but my son's new favorite author is Laura Ingalls Wilder. We recently finished "Little House on the Prarie" and yesterday I read a record TEN chapters of "On the Banks of Plum Creek."

I remembered the books as a bit more "girly". But I guess I should have figured they would be great for Miles. In "Little House" there's a whole chapter about building a log cabin. Another devoted to putting on the roof. Still another to building a door (without nails)! And one about building a fireplace. He LOVED it.

Not to mention the fact that Pa has a gun and frequently goes out hunting... now Miles is looking for hooks to mount the toy rifle we got him at Disney World over the door to his room.

Feeling Old Again

2008-04-15T11:14:00.000-07:00

I had a great time at the grocery store this morning, but as I was humming my way through the produce section I realized the reason why. The proverbial "elevator music" piping down from the ceiling is now the music of my generation. I was reliving the eighties while shopping in the new millenium.

I've often mused in these pages about my sadness that I'm not an "expert" on anything, that I don't have any hobbies that my passion for consumes all of my free time. But I had an interesting realization over winter break. If I did have something that I was an expert on, it would probably be eighties music. After hearing the Band Aid "Feed The World" on the radio, I actually spent several hours on YouTube trying to identify the people behind the voices, and then reading about whatever happened to them on You Tube. Midge Ure. Paul Weller. Paul Young. Tony Hadley. And there was a surprising amount that I already knew.... so there's my useless knowledge!

They had some gems today at Tower Market. "Reap the Wild Wind" by Ultravox. "Echo Beach" by Martha and the Muffins. Neither of which I've heard in probably twenty years. Both of which I enjoyed immensely.

So that's it. I'm old. I rock out in the grocery store. I don't think my neice ever reads this blog. But if she did, I wan't to tell her. Enjoy it! Today's Snow Patrol is tomorrow's Heaven 17.

The Pine Cone Feeder

2008-04-11T00:15:00.000-07:00

Creative Mom Podcast - Episode 93

My Car is So Dirty That

2008-04-02T14:28:00.000-07:00

It took three guys four hours to detail it. No kidding....

Moving On

2008-04-02T14:11:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've finally moved past the melodrama stage of our kindergarten rejection. We are now focused on other things. Miles has a great new haircut. And I have an appointment in two weeks after which I am hoping to look like Natalie Portman on the cover of Elle.

How To Get a Migraine in Six Easy Steps

2008-03-29T22:31:00.000-07:00

1 - Make sure both of your kids are on spring break, so you have them all week without a break (break seems like such an oxymoron)
2 - Make sure that not only is your husband out of town, but he is also out of the country, so whenever you call him he is unable to talk because he is just running out for drinks
3 - Decide to visit your best pal from college who lives 6 hour drive away
4 - Get the crazy idea that the two of you should drive another 2 hours to take your four kids to an amusement park for the afternoon
5 - Try to deal with the anger & misbehaviour of your completely unmanageable five year old and realize for the millionth time that you are a terrible parent
6 - Get lost in the Central Valley on the way home (there aren't any turns off of 1-5 but somehow you manage not only to find one, but to go at least 30 miles before you realize your mistake)

Sad

2008-03-20T16:14:00.000-07:00

So I'm really sad about the whole kindergarten thing. I haven't been this sad since my college boyfriend dumped me. I'm even listening to Jackson Browne again! Ok, so it probably isn't reasonable to be this sad. But here's the deal. We have a perfectly reasonable back up in the local Catholic school, where some of our friends are very happy. But the fact that we worked so hard over the past two years, touring schools, attending events, etc. and that not only did we not get offered any private school spots but we were also assigned to a public kindergarten in the projects knocks the wind out of you. I'm definitely not begrudging my friends who had better news. I'm honestly happy that it worked out for somebody. But I'm also not sure how much I can hear about it.

some funny things my kids said lately

2008-03-14T23:21:00.000-07:00

the whole kindergarten search has been such a nightmare, I can't even write about it. so I'm just going to put down some of the funny things that my kids have said lately and try to pretend that the rest of it doesn't exist:

Miles (who is reading the Magic Treehouse book about the Civil War) was talking about the "Connecticut" soldiers (instead of Confederate)

Mia was talking about the "lizard" of oz.

Then today she took a hard look at Miles' Curious George doll and said, "Curious George has a vagina."

Which turned into Miles yelling, "No he has a penis."

"Vagina"

"Penis"

"Vagina"

"Penis"

You get the idea. Even in my fragile emotional state, I had a good laugh!

How To Get Your Husband to the Gym In One Easy Step

2008-02-12T22:23:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to get Mike to go to the gym for years. He'll visit on occasion, but I can't seem to get him into any routine more regular than once a month. But Miles seems to have figured it out.

This morning, he and Mike were in the kitchen together. Mike was making toast and Miles was making some valentines for us. He drew our pictures, then showed them to Mike. "This is Mom," he said, "Because she's skinny." (Thanks, son!) And then, "This is you, Dad, because you're..." (Yes, you guessed it.)

Mike told me he was kind of horrified and said "What do you mean?" To which Miles just started patting his stomach.

So my money says Mike will be at the gym tomorrow....

You Know You've Had a Tough Winter When...

2008-02-12T22:22:00.001-08:00

you call the pediatrician, and they recognize your voice....

The Final Christmas Miracle

2008-01-01T23:38:00.000-08:00

My kids have been out of school for almost three weeks. We've had illness. Pouring rain (while we were taking all of our packages to the post office.) Playdates that resulted in the trashing of my kids rooms. Holiday crowds. Tired, whiny kids. Kids with too much sugar. Holiday traffic. Even a hangover. But after that first wet Monday, I didn't really yell that much. Really. I don't feel all that burned out. The kids had fun. And here's the miracle part - I did too (mostly).

Now lets see if I can get them to school anywhere near on time tomorrow.....

Another Christmas Miracle

2007-12-17T14:15:00.000-08:00

It is the first day of winter break. And I actually made it until noon before yelling at my kids....

Our Christmas Miracle

2007-12-16T21:18:00.000-08:00

We put up our Christmas tree two weeks ago, and nothing has been broken.

I know it doesn't sound like much, but in my book it is nothing sort of miraculous. There was a sort of frenzy during the trimming, fighting over the ladder and the red balls. And an insistence on having a critical mass of ornaments on just one of the branches. But somehow, afterwards, the kids have been able to keep their hands off of the ornaments. Nothing sort of incredible.

Last year, we had to keep anything breakable up at least five feet. Other years, we didn't even take the breakable ones out of the box. But this year, anything goes. And so far, it stays.

With every painful stage of parenting (remember the blow out poopy diapers, kids running away in the grocery store, the screaming tantrums at the coffee shop) you know it will pass. But still you are kind of mystified when it does.

Ok, and a little sad too. But still, I'm glad to have the ornaments intact.

Hi Kim!

2007-11-30T22:32:00.000-08:00

Thanks for reading! This whole Kindergarten search has been such hell that I can't even write about it. But it was so fun running into you. And hearing that even though I'm not really a writer anymore - you're still a reader. Happy belated birthday! I hope we both get kindergartens we like, and can carry on with our lives....

It was a Literary Halloween

2007-11-13T22:10:00.000-08:00

Miles was the Man with the Yellow Hat, and Mia was Daisy Head Mayzie, from a Dr. Seuss book that practically no one but my family has ever heard of.... And Mike was Caps for Sale but they were pretty tippy so we don't have a very good photo.

Earthshaking Events

2007-10-31T22:04:00.000-07:00

I had two big earth shakers this week.

First, at soccer on Monday, the coach made a point of coming up to me and telling me how much Miles had "matured" since he had him in the spring. Which is pretty amazing given that Miles is coming from a full day of school including a walk over the hill to a dance class... so he's pretty wiped out by the time he gets to soccer. Anyway, this is the first time that anyone has given him a compliment like that. And I have to say, I liked it!

The second one is that we had an actual earthquake. A big one. A long one. Mia was already asleep and I was lying down with Miles in his bed and the room began to rattle, rattle, rattle. Miles asked what it was, and I told him, and it just kept going on and on. I was just starting to wonder if we were going to end up needing to sleep in the play structure out back when it stopped. Phew. And then the questions started....

The Mom Job

2007-10-05T23:10:00.000-07:00

There was an article in the New York Times today about The Mom Job - which is a plastic surgery package for women recovering from childbirth and includes "a trifecta: a breast lift with or without breast implants, a tummy tuck and some liposuction."

The rationale, according to a Dr. Stoker is, "The severe physical trauma of pregnancy, childbirth and breast-feeding can have profound negative effects that cause women to lose their hourglass figures. Twenty years ago, a woman did not think she could do something about it and she covered up with discreet clothing. But now women don’t have to go on feeling self-conscious or resentful about their appearance.”

I couldn't believe what I was reading. Ok, so first off, I've never actually aspired to an hourglass figure, nor I guess have most of my friends. And I'm damn sure I didn't have one prior to children. So I have a bigger stomach now. And lost some of my boobs (which I really couldn't afford to). But what's the big deal? How come we can't all celebrate our motherhood? Aren't these really badges of honor? I'm not saying that I want to see a lot of post-pregancy bellies hanging out of a midriff shirt, but I hardly think we need to opt for discreet clothing. Sure I'd like to be in better shape. But I have better things to feel self-conscious or resentful about. I'm trying to be a parent, not a beauty queen.

Tonight when I was drying my hair after an evening shower, noticed that I had about a thousand grey hairs. Which I've written about before. A couple of years ago I got highlights, then realized I couldn't keep them up and ended up lowlighting it brown and just letting it go. I started thinking that after a three year hiatus that it might be time for some highlights.

So what's the difference then, really? If I truly don't care, then why color my hair. It's a slippery slope....

Sicko

2007-10-05T23:04:00.000-07:00

Last night Mike announced that he wasn't feeling well and that he was going to bed at the same time as the kids. Of course we have Miles' birthday presents to wrap, a cake to make, a camping trip to pack for and the usual kitchen clean up and laundry to fold. And today he spent the morning lying in bed.

I should be sympathetic. But I'm not. I'm usually mad. When I'm sick, I still have to keep going. But somehow he has carte blanche to fold up and take his toys and go home. So I usually stalk into the bedroom and ask he needs anything, and if I bring him water or something I stomp all the way up the stairs.

Murphy's Law

2007-09-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

So I got some contract work and wouldn't you know it, within seconds Miles was running a fever and has been for three days. And isn't terribly interested in watching TV (although the lure of watching Beauty and the Beast -which is too scary for Mia - was enough to buy me 90 minutes this morning). And insists on playing with legos which means every ten minutes he screams with frustration and I have to go help reattach skyscrapers and vehicles that try to defy the laws of balance and gravity. So I've been working all morning to what probably adds up to about 20 minutes of billable effort.

A million years ago when he was five months old and I was going back to Microsoft from maternity leave, he got an ear infection and kept me up the entire night before.

Of course!

The End of the Affair

2007-09-20T21:18:00.000-07:00

We had a special visitor this week -- the Binkie Fairy came to our house. On Tuesday night (the night that Mia had designated) she put all of her binkies into an bowl and told me that "tomorrow I'm going to be a big girl." And then she went to bed. It took FOREVER for her to fall asleep - for 45 minutes I laid down on the trundle bed next to her, until she is finally asleep.

Having been through this drill before - in June - I knew enough to take the binkies and hide them then and there so she couldn't wake up in the middle of the night and dig in. She woke up in the middle of the night - as usual - and got into bed with me. In the morning we were snuggling and as soon as I mentioned her present she was up and running. A Barbie Car! And child-size cooking utensils!

But here's the amazing part - she hasn't asked for them again! Badly timed, we needed a babysitter on Wednesday night and when she arrived Mia told her that she didn't have binkies anymore. And went to sleep without a peep.

Even today, when she had two different crying fits, instead of chanting "Binkie Baa, Binkie Baa" as she has for the past few years, she just asked for Baa.

Could it possibly be this easy?

Helpless

2007-08-23T21:55:00.001-07:00

We just found out that our friend has cancer and all we want to do is help, but we're not really sure how. So we're just sending out our most positive thoughts into the universe.

Passions

2007-08-16T21:21:00.000-07:00

The past two years have been very intense with schools and stuff (and unfortunately there's no chance of it letting up for the rest of the calendar year) and although I've been lucky enough to get into a slight yoga routine, I'm still feeling like I haven't had enough time for ME.

But here's the problem. I'm still suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Because when I start thinking about what I want to do with the ME time when I get it, I don't really know.

Yoga, that's a given.

Write the book I always wanted to? That's maybe too hard. Although I'm happy to say that after four years I'm up to ELEVEN pages.

Make more jewelry or knit Mia another poncho? Nice, but doesn't feel like much of an achievement.

Volunteer work? Nice, but my last effort, although successful, has completely burned me out.

Cooking? I'll admit that other than yoga and wine it is one of the only things that is keeping me going. But my aspirations aren't really much higher than adding some variety to our life. I'm not really motivated to learn a souffle or fancy sauce. (Although my scrambled eggs did benefit hugely from a quick perusal of Julia Child.)

One of my friends is learning Spanish. Which sounds nice, and I could practice with our babysitters or Miles when he gets to school. It would be even more fun to learn a language I could practice in a destination that I really want to visit. But that would be France or Italy, and none of our babysitters speak those languages.

Several months ago I read an article in the New York Times about a new moth that is preparing to attack California agriculture. It was found for the first time in the state by a retired eptymologist (?) or moth expert, who had a net set up in his backyard for ha-has.

And it made me a little sad. Not so much for the agriculture, I'm sorry to say, but for myself. If only I had devoted myself to a life of moths, I could have been the one in the New York Times. If I had devoted myself to a life of, well, anything, I could be in the NYT for that thing.
Even Mike, who isn't likely to be in the NYT for any of his passions, is at least very good a few things -- skiing, fishing, to name a few. But me, I'm still working on my triangle pose, trying out new recipes from Cooking Light, driving my children to school, and wasting time on my computer.... I can't even say I'm an amazing mother or friend. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day!

Mia's Babyhood

2007-08-03T21:55:00.000-07:00

Mia is a little over three now, and she's on the cusp of some pretty big changes. In some ways, she's a very big girl. She knows most of the letters of the alphabet and what sounds they make (many more than her brother who is a year and a half older, I might add). She can sort of write her name (which is cool even if it is only three letters). She's also doing amazingly well at swimming. She's completely settled into preschool, and is generally too busy to even kiss me goodbye.

But in other ways she's still a baby. She still takes a binkie. Basically whenever she can get you to give it to her. And she sleeps with a diaper. Which is pretty full in the morning. (I won't talk about how she fell asleep and peed on the seat of the airplane last week except to say that I felt terrible about the next passenger...). And more often than not, she sleeps with us!

Sometimes, especially when I look at that dirty binkie or go to Walgreens for more diapers, I want to hurry her along into girlhood. Haven't we had babies long enough? But then I realize how fleeting and fragile her babyhood really is, like a soap bubble that is floating off through the air... And I want to pull her into my lap, sniff her hair and hang onto every last moment.

The Elements of Style

2007-07-13T16:26:00.000-07:00

You know the woman I'm talking about - you see her in the grocery store and her bag perfectly coordinates with her jacket. And her hair is clean, and her nails are perfect. Or out at the museum and she has on a plain white shirt and a stunning stone necklace. Sometimes she might be your friends, and she has the perfect outfit for every occasion - playdate, wedding, dinner out. She might partake of the current trend, but somehow she rises above it. The trend fits her, she doesn't fit herself into the mold. There's one thing all these women have in common. They don't worry if their sweater matches their shirt, or if their flats look good with a skirt of if they have on the right type of hose. They know that they make it right. The are surrounded by a force field of confidence.

Let's face it. You can't buy style. You are either born with it or not. Unfortunately I was not. Try as I might, I'm always just a little off. And I can't even tell you how many times I've been to a wedding, or preschool event, or book club meeting and wished about half way through that I'd worn something else. It's hard to believe but my first job was at a fashion magazine, and one of my responsbilities was to help write fashion guides. This experience taught me how to spot style, but somehow I didn't acquire it for myself.

My vision for myself was somewhere along the lines of Grace Kelly with Audrey Hepburn's clothes. It would have been great. And for a long time I thought that if I just grew my hair out, or had a shopping spree at Banana Republic or got a makeover, I'd suddenly have it.

So last month it occured to me. I'm over 40. If I don't have it now, I'm never going to get it.

It didn't stop me from getting that shirt at Banana Republic though...

Invisible Mom

2007-07-09T21:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I'm invisible. Friends that only talk to you about carpool and playdate logistics. Children that whine about dessert. Potential babysitters who take days to return your call (or don't call back at all). Even worse, potential employers who don't return your call.

But now I have the best one yet. We had part of our house painted back in May. The job is 95% of the way done. And the painter isn't returning my calls. But here's the kicker. I owe him $1,500. And STILL he won't call me!

California Boy

2007-07-07T15:43:00.000-07:00

My friend Claire just reminded me of something Miles said recently. He saw her husband smoking and said, "That man's on fire!" She said he's a real California boy!

This isn't the first time I've been struck by how different my kids' upbringing is from mine. I never had Mexican food until my twenties. (And it made me very sick). My kids have quesadillas at least once a week. And Mia loves black beans. Sometimes I'll give my kids half an avacado with a spoon with their dinner. When I was growing up, my mother sometimes bought avacados at our upstate New York grocery store and they sat on the window sill like little green bricks for months until we could eat them. And - of course - my kids learned how to do downward dog at age two at their daycare yoga class.... while the first time I did yoga was at the ripe old age of 34!

Mia's Addiction

2007-07-02T21:52:00.000-07:00

When Mia was born my Mom gave her a soft white lamb - the kind with a head but a flat body (reminiscent of a bear rug) that functions as a blanket. Miles already had the doggy version of this toy - which he loved - so we named it Baa and kept it in her bassinette with her. Marcia, our babysitter, used to sometimes wrap her little fists around Baa's ears.

But then something happened. At some point Mia decided that she liked Baa's stubby little tail better than her soft pink ears. And she decided that what she really liked about the tail was the way it felt when she rubbed it under her nose while sucking on her binky. Even better if it was dirty. Better yet if it was moist from her snot.

As she has grown older, I have found her rubbing Baa's now-grey tail on other body parts. Her toes are a favorite. So is her vagina.

Sometimes, as a mark of affection, Mia will offer you a rub of Baa's tail. Sweet and yet disgusting at the same time. I have made a point of washing Baa once a week. (Sometimes difficult to schedule because it needs to be during a time when her presence is not mandatory for an hour). But still she has a smell that is best described as "unique."

What I have found so interesting about this addiction is that Mia's need for Baa has not diminished as she has grown older. But as her ability to vocalize her needs has grown, she has been able to express this need much more.

For example, as we're about to part with Baa - either because we have to put her in the washer or leave her in the car before we go into the grocery store - she'll often say "I just need two more tail rubs."

She recently started preschool and I was wondering how the whole transition would go. She's had free access to Baa all day at her daycare. I bought her a backpack big enough to hold her lunch and Baa in case she needed to bring her. But I was reluctant to let Mia know she could bring Baa, because I'm afraid that if she gets into that habit in two years we'll be having a tug of war outside the kindergarten gates. Or she'll be sneaking her into her locker in 7th grade.

When I brought her home after her first day she was tired, tired, tired. And she lay down on the floor with Baa and binky. When I told her that she needed to pee and wash her hands after an outing (our family rule) she said, "I just need some tail time."

Don't we all?

The Greying of Me

2007-06-23T22:10:00.000-07:00

For a long time whenever I saw a grey hair I would yank it. But after awhile I started having so many that I was afraid if I kept yanking I'd end up with a little halo of stubble across the top of my head as the hair grows out. So now I'm just watching it grow trying to decide whether I want to get back on the highlight treadmill.

My understanding of grey hair is that it comes out of your head grey. A perfectly fine, brownish blonde strand doesn't suddenly go grey over night. So I was quite surprised tonight, when brushing my teeth with my ponytail hanging jauntily over my shoulder, to see a grey hair inside it.

Somehow, this bugger had made it through the plucking stage and grown past my shoulders. If my understanding of the mechanics of grey hair is correct, it has been growing out of my head for three or four years at least. And it suddenly occured to me that throughout the plucking stage, I had never actually looked at the back of my head. For all I know there are MILLIONS of greys back there. So good to know that I wasn't fooling anyone.

But for anyone out there who didn't hear the newflash last month - I got CARDED at Bell Market. Which is quite an accomplishment at my advanced age. So instead of getting depressed about the greys I'm just chanting to myself, "I got carded. I got carded. I got carded." Who cares if the light isn't so great in there?

Mia Thinks She Owns The Place

2007-06-16T21:07:00.001-07:00

We had another milestone this week. Mia started preschool. (Ok, so I cried again).

But here's the amazing thing with the younger siblings. It was actually sort of anticlamatic. Not that we didn't make a big deal out of it in our house or anything, but she was so ready that it took most of the stress out of it. The most difficult part was that she insisted on bringing two items for show and tell instead of the one that she was supposed to. And got into a snit when I made her leave one in the car. (Which is why she is frowning in all of her first day pictures).

But I found it quite amusing. When we got there she complained about the location of her cubby. Then she went to play with the tactile bins. And later in the morning, when some of the big kids put on bathing suits and got into the kiddie pool, she went into the adult bathroom (which is strictly off limits to kids), into the cabinet, found the box with her emergency clothes, put on her own bathing suit and went outside to play.

I'd say she was settled...

Bye-bye Diaper Pad

2007-06-11T21:42:00.000-07:00

Tonight I was cleaning the dining room. And I looked at the diaper changing pad that is tucked under my desk and thought, "I don't need that gross thing anymore", took it outside and stuffed it in the trash. Then I poured a glass of wine. I had a great sense of accomplishment. It isn't exactly the same as running a marathon, but, nevertheless this is a nice place to be.

What A Difference A Year Makes

2007-06-10T21:46:00.000-07:00

Ok, so really fourteen months....

But Mike had to leave early from our family vacation to Hawaii last week. And I had to come home alone with the kids. Oh yes, and of course not predicting this, I had booked tickets with a change of planes in Honolulu. Oh yes, and we had mechanical difficulties that kept us on the tarmac for an extra hour.

But here's the amazing thing. It wasn't that bad. Granted my Mom and stepfather were staying down the street and took us to the airport. I don't want to in any way diminish the fact that they took us to the airport and helped us check in. But still, they had to leave us at security. (And did I mention I cried?).

My trip alone to Florida with them last year was probably the most stressful outing of my life. (African safari? No big deal. Coup in Fiji? Piece of cake). And I still think I deserve some type of Purple Heart for Mommies for surving that one.

But now, at three and four years old, I didn't have to bring carseats on the plane (we checked our boosters). I didn't have to bring a million extra outfits. I didn't need diapers! Our seat was near the bathroom so I could leave Miles while I took Mia to the potty. Miles could go by himself! They could drink without sippy cups. (Although it was a teeny bit tense when Miles poured his ginger ale into his lap). They actually napped! They watched DVDs!

Also, one of the things I've noticed about Miles is that although he can be really naughty sometimes, when the chips are down he usually comes through for me. And when the plane landed in San Francisco, no less than FOUR different people who were sitting around told me how good the kids had been!

Kids Menus

2007-05-31T22:25:00.002-07:00

The NY Times published an article today, lamenting the kids menu and how it is driving our kids toward more chicken fingers and fries. As someone who is struggling to move our family to a phase where we all eat ONE meal and it is all the same one and it is relatively healthy, all I can say is Hallelujah! We're a long way from that goal, but from time to time Mia will eat spinach salad or Miles will have steak and asparagas. But no matter how close we get, I know for sure we really don't need the fries in the mix....

End of an Era

2007-05-31T22:21:00.000-07:00

Mia had her last day at daycare today. And Mommy cried all the way home.

Yoga Frequency

2007-05-31T22:19:00.001-07:00

So after a rough winter I've gotten back into a routine of going to yoga once a week and I have to say, it just isn't enough. Even though I've been able to stick with that pretty well, I just don't seem to be able to get any better. I still struggle with my backbends, I'm not getting any stronger. I need to go more than once a week. But if a mother of two small children is spending, three plus hours a week at yoga, does that make me superficial? Or selfish?

Dragging You Down

2007-05-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing about your spouse's anxiety, stress or depression. You can either be impervious (and perceived as cold) or you can take it on yourself and get sucked in. Normally I'm pretty oblivious and I just go about my business, but now I'm finding that my spouse's stress is starting to drag me down too.....

The Grudge

2007-05-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

Mia is starting preschool in two weeks, and I have to say I'm pretty curious about what it will be like! Mostly she is easygoing, and a good listener.

But she's also a bit of a grudge-holder. She sometimes complains about her friends at family daycare. One day this winter, when we were skiing (of all things), Mia said, apropos of nothing, "Paigey didn't listen to my words at Denise's." Four days later and she's thinking about it while skiing.

But that's of course nothing like her Dora book. How many times has she said, "Miles ripped my Dora book and I'm not too happy about it!". And I'm like, yeah, Mia that was last summer! Get over it!

So I'm interested to see whether she learns to develop friendships at school. Or whether we'll have a litany of complaints about Maggie or Courtney or Lindsay "not sharing their crayons, or ripping her construction paper or whatnot!

I just can't wait to enjoy this aspect of her personality when she's in junior high!

You Say Tomato

2007-05-25T22:25:00.000-07:00

We had a major "milestone" in our family three weeks ago. Drum roll please. Miles started eating tomatoes! He'd never even put one into his mouth before. (Yes, even though he is half Italian!). But I asked him to try one of the little organic sweets from Trader Joes one night at dinner and he ended up eating six! I wasn't watching, and when I looked at his plate and saw that they were all gone, I was stunned. I made him get up and shake his shirt to prove that he hadn't hidden them.

He's actually tried several new foods lately and it is very exciting. He didn't like cauliflower (no surpise there). But he liked oatmeal. And tried mango. And of course tomatoes.Mia's been eating those little tomatoes for awhile. I've gotten her to try tomato sauce and she says she likes it. So maybe Miles will try it at some point too. And maybe, maybe someday our family will actually be able to have lasange for dinner.

Ciao!

Raising Cain

2007-05-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I read an amazing book called Raising Cain. It is about "protecting the emotional life of boys." I found it very moving. It is SO easy to get annoyed with Miles, because he doesn't listen. Or sometimes doesn't pay attention. (Today, after swimming, just when we got to the car he said "I have to pee." So we turned around to go back to swim class. And I'm carrying Mia. And he stops and plays with flower boxes and store windows. I'm thinking, if you have to pee so bad, get the hell in there!)

But the book made me feel so guilty about all the times I get annoyed with him. It talked a lot about raising boys that are able to deal with their own emotions, and are therefore able to be nice to other people.

It also made me conscious of how difficult life could be - at times - for someone like him. Already his sister, who is 18 months younger, knows more letters than he does and is a better swimmer. She is happy to read alphabet books or do her swimming. Miles is interested in letters only so much as he can write signs or play. So it is going to take him a longer to learn and will be more challenging to teach him.

What I took away from it:

Help boys to have an emotional life. Show them that it is OK to have feelings. Teach them how to talk about them. If they can't identify and talk about their emotions, then they can't be expected to deal with them later in life, or to treat other people well.
Help boys with school. Pick a school that adapts lessons for people like Miles, who are smart but maybe not so great at sitting still and doing drill and practice. Help to create a good experience for him right out of the gate so that he doesn't dislike school and turn away from it.

Okay, that's it. There was a lot more in the book, but this is what I took away from it. And that's enough.

Same Old, Same Old

2007-05-22T21:51:00.000-07:00

I haven't been a very good blogger over the past ten months. Here's what happened. First, I became the newsletter writer for our preschool. Which was fun except that I didn't know how to do desktop publishing. So things that should have taken me twenty minutes took about eight hours. Then I took on a contract position for two days a week for three months and that pretty much made me crazy. And then finally I took on the enrollment job at school, which made me even more crazy.

But here's the really sad thing. Here I'm writing again, and things aren't that different!

-I'm still unhappy with my weight
-I have even more grey hair
-I'm still a terrible listener with my kids
-I don't go to yoga enough
-I need to get a job
-I'm still obsessing because I don't have enough "passions." Maybe if I had, I'd have some fabulous career right now, or be the expert that the NY Times quotes on some obscure topic
-I love my husband but he snores

So for my three readers out there... you haven't missed anything!!

Friends

2007-05-22T21:48:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those days when your friends drive you nuts? Oh come on, you know you do! It's probably even me!

Mom's Clothes

2007-04-26T23:05:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was in high school and my Mom would buy clothes for me but I always liked what she bought for herself better... Mia's already starting to borrow my clothes. The other day she slept in my pajamas!

And lately she's been bugging me to borrow my labordorite necklace. She thinks it looks like a candy necklace. In a moment of weakness I let her have it, and when I turned around she was whipping Miles with it. So I told her she can have it when she's fourteen. (Hoping she'll forget.) But it made me think of when I was little and used to ask my grandmother if I could have her diamond engagement ring when she died. Nice kid, huh?

No Mother Left Behind

2007-04-02T21:56:00.000-07:00

Recently I was talking to an old friend and she told me that she'd taken up pole dancing as a hobby. You know, pole dancing. Like the women do at the Bada Bing Club on the Sopranos (although my friend assures me she has a shirt on).

This is not some slutty friend who wears tight pants and low cut shirts and flirts with all the husbands. She's a fine, upstanding mother and a card-carrying member of the PTA. But another friend had encouraged her to join a class and now she was hooked. The thing, she told me, is that she felt like she had left so much of herself behind when she became a mother. And this was a way to recapture the part of her that used to love to dance and really let it all go at clubs. A part she really missed. And could now revisit. But now with platform shoes.

So of course I started obsessing about all of the aspects of myself that I had left behind. The part that liked to get shit-faced on beer at some divvy local bar on a Sunday afternoon. The part that actually had time to get into bed with a good book on Friday night - and stay up all night if it was good enough. The part that liked to go camping and would then stay up all night listening for bears. The part that could actually plan - and pull the trigger - on a trip to Europe.

But here's the encouraging part. Considering how much my life has changed, my list isn't raelly that long. And in just fifteen more years I'll be able to do it all again!

My Little Princess

2007-03-28T20:43:00.000-07:00

And I mean literally....

Already Giving Parenting Advice

2007-03-28T20:35:00.000-07:00

Last night, I desperately needed to get two extremely overtired kids to bed and did everything in my power to speed the process. Like telling them they could only have one book. Mia, of course, had a fit and picked two. I told her several times she could only have one. And then she started to cry. And Miles said, "Some day, when I have kids, if they want two books I will just give it to them." He's four. I can't wait to hear his commentary on my parenting in a few years....

Advice from a Partier

2007-03-23T19:28:00.000-07:00

We have a friend (ok, more than one) who parties a lot. Basically 90% of the time that we see him, this guy is wasted. So basically he is the last person that you could ever imagine yourself taking parenting advice from.

And yet... a month or so ago he was over for dinner and drinks (mostly drinks). During which time I fed the kids. You know, the usual coaxing to eat vegtables, the whole bit. But I left the room for a second and when I came back, Mia had devoured all of her green beans. When I remarked on it, he said, "Well I noticed she was having some trouble with them so I cut them up and she ate them all."

Okay. So the thought of cutting her beans had NEVER occured to her parents. Never. So what does it say about us that the boozer friend understands our child better? Just one more time to get hit over the head with the lesson, you can't pay enough attention to your child.

The Funny Thing About Money

2007-03-23T19:23:00.000-07:00

I've been working off and on for the last few months doing some contract work. And I have to say to all the working mothers out there - my hat is off to you!

In the process of trying to re-enter the workforce, I've discovered something funny about money. Which is this: when you are working you spend less.

It seems conterintuitive. When you have more money, you have the ability to spend it. When you have less (because you aren't working) you should spend less.

But it doesn't work that way. First, when you are working you have less time to spend money. Second, and more importantly, when you are working, money has more value. When I wasn't working, it was easy to separate myself from money and it is this theoretical concept that has no value. But when I can look at a sweater or a pair of pants and say to myself, "that costs two hours." Or three. Or four. I am so much less apt to buy!

Teaching them Well

2007-02-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

An exchange between my kids this week:

Mia: Miles, do you want to come in my house?
Miles: I can't. I'm busy.
Mia: Are you on the phone?

So glad I'm training them to neglect each other!

There But for The Grace of God Go I

2007-01-26T21:30:00.000-08:00

This poor family was removed from a flight because they couldn't calm their toddler down enough to get her in a seat for takeoff. Not that I disagree with the airline's decision - they have a business to run - but I'd hate to be the parent with my name out all over the Associated Press because my kid was naughty. And believe me, I have so been there!

2007-01-22T14:04:00.000-08:00

Baby Fart

Arugula

2007-01-19T21:32:00.000-08:00

Two years ago I was beating my head against a brick wall because Miles wouldn't eat vegtables. I tried and tried. Finally he got over it. And he's never been great, but he'll eat the requisite four broccolis before dessert. And now that I'm working a couple of days a week and really too busy to pay attention, he's started doing the strangest things. I was cooking this week and he tried the arugla and then ended up eating an entire bowl.... Who'd have thought...

Scissors

2007-01-18T21:54:00.000-08:00

I came home from work on Monday and my sitter handed me a huge hunk of hair - apparently Miles took it upon himself to give his hair a little trim. He went into the bathroom and it was quiet for a moment, and voila!

There's a nice big patch in the middle of his head where he cut it pretty much down to the scalp. So I took him to the "trained professional" and she cut the rest of it off pretty short - not THAT short - so it will grow in a little less awkwardly.

Oh, and did I mention we have a kindergarten interview next weekend? Good to know that he will be looking like someone took a machete to his head.

So he's lost scissor priviledges until high school...

Always, Always, Always Check References

2007-01-08T22:25:00.000-08:00

I think this must qualify as one of the worst babysitter moments ever. Frankly, I'm still in complete shock.

But this weekend we were up in Tahoe, and we had a babysitter watch our two kids. And our friends' eight month old baby. From 9-3 while we were skiing.

This is someone who has probably watched my kids about ten times in the past year and a half. She was recommended to us by a former sitter, who was very reliable and had come highly recommended, although we didn't check actually check the newer sitter's references. She's always been a bit of a character, but it all seemed very harmless. Although now I remember things that I should have thought more about. Like that she'd given up partying for a year so that she could get her act together.

So we got home from skiing (we'd called and told her we would be an hour late). And after we got home she said "Miles is a angry at me. I raised my voice at him because he spilled my beer."

BEER?

The heads of all four adults snapped around to look at her. But I think we were all too stunned to say anything.

BEER?

And here's what's worse. Not only was my sitter boozing on the job, but yelling at my kid because of it.

So there's a lesson here... I'm just glad it was only my couch that got seriously hurt.

A Little Perspective

2006-11-09T21:00:00.000-08:00

WARNING... Bragging post about to happen.... But I thought this was pretty cool. Miles drew this picture of our family yesterday. (The horizontal lines are stripes, by the way because for some reason we're all wearing stripes). I'm the one on the left with the really big head. Not because my noggin is really so oversized, but because he's trying to show the barrette on my ponytail. (The little square part on the bottom of the back of my head is the barrette.) Okay, so I may look a little weird, but I was quite impressed that my barely-four-year-old-son is already experimenting with perspective!

Post Partydom Syndrome

2006-10-13T17:23:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm never having a party again. Miles turned four last weekend and we had a big bash. Fifteen kids (counting the siblings) with parents. We went to the local firehouse to ride in the truck and try out the hose. Cake. Pinata. By the time everyone left my house looked like a bomb went off. And I was so tired that all I could do was sit on the couch and watch two episodes of Rescue Me back to back.

It was fun though, and it was all worth it.

But not the after-math. We're all so tired. Miles has been asking for treats at BREAKFAST time all week. And cranky. And not sleeping. And they've been fighting, fighting, fighting over the toys.

So next year, we're heading to Chuckee Cheese.

Everybody Remain Calm

2006-08-27T22:55:00.000-07:00

I like mantras.

I like the simplicity of having a saying that can help you stay focused while getting through life.

When I was employed in Silicon Valley I had two. For years after reading the Dalai Lama’s “Art of Happiness” I chanted “affection and compassion, affection and compassion” to myself as people cut me off on highway 101 at rush hour, or jumped in front of me in line at the grocery store, or were rude at restaurants.

The other was “you can’t get what you want if you don’t know what it is.” The friend that shared it with me meant this in terms of men, but I found that it applied well to other situations including shopping for furniture, ordering dinner, and directing projects in the workplace. Give good direction, and you’ll get good results.

But I’ve been a little bit lost in the post professional world. The very qualities that helped me be successful at work –energy, impatience, perfectionism, goal-orientation – are often liabilities in the toddler department.

I was at our preschool one morning last month when a minor disagreement over a toy ignited a screaming match between two three year olds. Our director, in an unassuming voice said “okay, okay, people. Everybody remain calm.” And I thought, okay, here is the mantra for my post work life.

My son is one of those people who constantly pushes the limits. I’ll have to ask him, oh, ten or twelve times to brush his teeth. Only when he’s threatened with a loss of privileges (Dora the Explorer is the ultimate leverage) will he actually step into the bathroom. He’ll continually put toys into his mouth. He’s also a born negotiator: if you offer him two books at bedtime, he’s bound to ask for three. If you sing three songs, he’ll ask for four. (He got this from his dad, of course.) And I, of course, am completely unequipped to deal with him.

My energy level is way, way, way too high. While I think it is important to set limits with your children, I find that too often at our house, a relatively minor incident can escalate into a full-fledged conflagration. I’ll assign a timeout too rashly, and when Miles won’t take it, a full fledged battle will ensue. It is like I threw gasoline on the fire. When he starts the endless bedtime negotiation, I’ll get angry and ultimately find myself yelling – which is not exactly the best way to help him relax and fall asleep.

For a couple of weeks after I first found this new mantra, I was great. I calmly doled out discipline. I separated my kids during battles without adding a level of hysteria to the situation. Things were calm in our house.

Then summer happened! And I’ve been spending way, way, way too much time with my kids. There’s nothing like traveling alone with your children – to different time zones! - to increase your stress level. Needless to say, I’m failing miserably at staying calm.

The best that I can hope for is that if I keep working at it, I’ll better learn to manage my emotions.

Or that my kids will just wear me out to the point where I don’t have enough energy to fight back!

Some Days

2006-07-27T13:46:00.000-07:00

One of the other Moms at school said to me recently, "Some days you get a lot done. Other days you survive."

How true. Except that I'd say "some months." We're having a great summer, but between packing for trips and unpacking when we get home and planning for the next thing, and buying the occassional birthday present, that's about all we do!

Stockholm Syndrome

2006-06-17T21:09:00.000-07:00

My kids were sick last week. Which wouldn't be such a big deal (I should be used to it by now, right?) except that it has followed on lots of weekends when Mike has been either away or unavailable. Oh yeah, and it coincided with Miles giving up his nap. Anyway, Mia had an ear infection and high fever for several days, and Miles had a fever for a couple. Which meant no school, no playdates and LOTS of time around the house. A little too much time around the house. Oh yeah, and did I mention the weather was wet and foggy so we couldn't even go into our (tiny) backyard?

About midweek I realized that I really, really, really needed a break. So I got Sunday "off" and talked my friend Lisa into spending the day with me. We tossed around a bunch of different options - hikes, manicures, wine tasting, spa treatments, movies, lunch. For several days we talked about what to do but for some reason I just couldn't identify what I really wanted. And Lisa, who is the best and most understanding friend that you could ask for, sounded a little testy when she finally said, "well, what do you WANT to do?"

Technically Stockholm Syndrome is when hostages start to identify with their captors. Remember when Patty Hearst changed her name to Tanya and tried to rob a bank? Obviously I identify with my little captors - I love them more than anything else in this world. But in my case Stockholm Syndrome is about identifying too much with their world. Spending so much time with them and thinking about them that I have trouble of conceiving of spending my free time anywhere but at Target or Costco or the grocery store.

But the happy ending is that we went for a long walk at Chrissy Field and then drove up to Napa for a day of drinking wine in the sunshine...

Job?

2006-06-15T16:25:00.000-07:00

Ok, I realize I complain alot, but deep down inside (sometimes very, very deep) I've been happy and grateful for being able to have the opportunity to stay home with my children.

Well, up until last week anyway. Miles finally gave up his nap. Now he's supposed to have an hour of (mostly) quiet time in his room - which gives me just enough time to make dinner, take out the trash and occasionally shower. And then I'm back on duty. Art projects, books, pretend trips to the doctor, bike riding, cooking dinner together.

All this quality time is, frankly, a bit too much for me. I've decided its time to start looking for a job!

Carnivore?

2006-06-05T20:23:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I became cautiously optimistic that Miles was becoming less of a picky eater. After all of the agonizing that I had had in the last few years about what my kids eat, he has suddenly (with no urging from me) started eating three things that he always rejected-- hard boiled eggs, dried fruit and turkey cold cuts.

But at the same time, he's also asking more questions about food.

We have a board book called "A Train Ride with Monet," which is basically ten stunning paintings very loosely woven into a story about a train ride. It isn't a very compelling text, but as someone who learned most of what she knows about art from the '70s board game "Masterpiece," I like to delude myself that I am exposing my kids to great art.

One of the pages shows an oil paiting of turkeys, and reads "pass a flock of turkeys, feathery white." Last week, when we were reading it, Miles suddenly said, "hey Mom, does turkey come from turkeys?" I was surprised. It had never occured to me that he didn't connect the chicken on his plate with the chicken on Old MacDonald's farm.

And ever since he's realized that we eat the pretty, fluffy white birds that he's seen a million times in the picture book, he's had a lot of questions about what we eat.

"Does chicken come from chickens?" (Yep, you can't pull the wool over my son's eyes.)
"Ham comes from pig, right?"

And here was the kicker - "What are horses for?" Basically meaning, do we eat those beautiful creatures that we were feeding watermelon rinds to last weekend in Tahoe.

Let me get something straight. I'm not a vegetarian. I don't eat liver or scrapple or even dark meat turkey, but we have meatloaf from time to time and every now and then I really, really, really want a hamburger. But still, I found it strangely difficult to explain to my child why we eat some animals and we don't eat others.

And then yesterday, when he was playing with his little plastic animals, he asked, "Mom, what comes from giraffes?"

"Poop!" I answered brightly, since it was that time of day.

"No, Mom, what comes from giraffes?"

And I realized that he was wondering whether we ate giraffes. Which seemed kind of horrifying to me. So I started to explain again what the difference is, and realized that in his mind there probably isn't much difference between the soulful big eyes of the giraffe he sees at our zoo's African Savannah, and the big brown eyes of the cow he sees at the children's section. Or - for that matter - the big brown eyes that sees when he looks in the mirror.

If I really thought about it, I might rethink some of my own food choices. But I'm probably too old for that at this point. But my neice - who is now fourteen - has been a vegetarian for political reasons for a decade now. (Yes, she made that decision when she was the same age that Miles is now.) And it will be interesting to see where Miles goes with this.

Skinny Jeans And All

2006-05-30T21:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, so motherhood isn't the only thing that I'm insecure about. I'm also pretty insecure about fashion. Which is incredibly stupid if you think about it. It isn't as though I'm going to work or anything - just grocery shopping, going to the playground, teaching at my son's preschool.

Nevertheless, I still have fashion anxiety. Or maybe angst is a better word. I'm so very, very tired of the white t-shirts and old Gap jeans that I always wear to the playground. Last summer I wrote about my quest to find clothes that were fashionable, not exactly the same as what everyone else is wearing, machine washable and cheap. I lamented the fact that these things were not readily available in my neighborhood. And that I couldn't find them on the Internet. But now I've realized that the real problem is me.

I'm chronically behind the times. By the time I noticed that everyone was wearing cargo pants - and wanted some for myself - they were no longer in stores. By the time I warmed up to trouser jeans (which reminded me a teeny bit too much of those Dickies we had in junior high) you couldn't find them anywhere.

So I did the unthinkable. A couple of weeks ago, I bought some of those '80s pants (now called skinny jeans) that are in the stores. My friend Lisa said they made me look thin, so of course I had to buy them. And part of me figured that I might as well buy the skinny jeans while they were still selling them because by the time I wanted them its a sure bet you wouldn't be able to find them for love or money.

But when I got them home, I just couldn't believe what I'd done. My husband laughed out loud when he saw them.

After Mike finished laughing I left them on the top of my dresser for a couple of weeks, but finally, I was behind on laundry and needed something to wear so I took off the tags and put them on and took the kids out. And felt ridiculous! Memories flooded back - illicit drugs, Yaz, Limelight, white pumps, Obsession. But here's the thing. Instead of making me feel youthful, it made me feel like one of those old ladies that tries to look young by dressing like a teenager.

But I'm not just insecure, I'm also compulsive. So the good news is that now I have something else to obsess about.

I Don't Like Spiders and Snakes....

2006-05-24T20:06:00.000-07:00

I'm more than a teensy bit insecure about my parenting skills. But every now and then I do something that makes me just want to pat myself on the back and say, "girlfriend, you rock." Like when I took the kids - by myself - to Florida. Or last Saturday when I held a tarantula.

It was Bug Day at the Randall Museum, our local nature museum for kids. And Miles was transfixed by the spiders. We couldn't drag him away. Several other kids had held it, and I thought that he might want to also (with a little encouragement). So, in a moment of unaccustomed bravery, I held out my hand and held it.

It's legs were kind of soft as it walked across your skin, but the big soft body that dragged across my palm was creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.

But of course, I constantly underestimate Miles. He was wayyyy too smart to want to hold that thing.

But now I will have something to think about in the middle of the night, or next time we go camping.

On Being Mom

2006-05-10T21:34:00.000-07:00

One of my friends just sent me a very beautiful essay called "On Being Mom" by Anna Quindlen. There are so many things in the essay that speak to me, even though her children are grown and mine are still (unfortunately) in diapers.

Quindlen writes movingly about the things she learned as a mother -- to listen to herself (and her kids) and not the experts, to learn to be humbled, and most of all to live in the moment. "I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

Several years ago my friend Stephanie told me that she tried to spend an hour of uninterrupted time each day with each of her children. Possibly this was before I had any of my own. But I remember thinking what a short time an hour seems like. And now that I have two, I think what an impossibly long time it seems.

It is easy to be busy. As a stay-at-home Mom I can't sneak errands in during lunchtime or on the way home from work-- I have to arrange childcare for every haircut or workout, or bring kids along with me. Even evenings out with my husband require tons of advance planning (by me, not him. he just shows up). I have all of the responsibilities of my son's coop nursery school. And then the many logistics of running our household. And checking email. And watching 24. It is very easy to get caught up in all of it.

Plus it can be hard to keep my kids' attention. I can spend a large portion of their precious naptime preparing afternoon art projects that will keep their attention for say maybe five minutes. Even dying Easter eggs got old after ten. And also - dare I say it - sometimes playing with the kids can be boring. I mean really, how many times can we pack our bags and pretend that we're flying on the couch airplane to Hawaii? Sometimes it is just easier to let them play by themselves, or to try to get them to watch Sesame Street.

But I'm already feeling the pull of nostaglia. Even Miles at 3-1/2 is feeling it. One of his new favorite activities is pouring over the photo albums of when he and his sister were newborns. "Is that Miles? Is that Miles" he asks, unable to recognize his baby self. And in another way, I'm having trouble recognizing him too. As grueling as it can be, it is just going too darn fast.

So thanks Anna Quindlen. My gift to myself for Mother's Day will be to try to be present more often.