Potty Training 101

The above title is a misnomer since we have no practical advice to give on potty training. Below, however, are our war stories from the trenches:

(1) Do not mistake pull-ups for kinda cool diapers. Because if you give in to your toddler’s demands that she wants pull-ups just like all of her friends in preschool, but you’re not actually ready to potty train yet, then you’ll be stuck buying pull-ups for ages until she is ready. And in addition to being much more expensive, you will find yourself without a transitional piece, forcing you to go cold turkey (or full commando, whichever metaphor is more appropriate here).

(2) Cleaning out a “solid” accident from a pair of close-fitting underwear is not at all as efficient as changing a dirty diaper. There’s the navigation of said full panties down the legs and over the feet without leaving streaks behind. And then you have to wash out the panties yourself without turning a bit green. All under the constant threat of another accident while your babe is now bottomless.

(3) You start to sound like a raving lunatic as you oscillate between repeating the same questions every five minutes (Do you need the potty? Are you sure? Why don’t you try to use the potty, anyway? Do you need the potty?) and being the world’s most hyper cheerleader (Yay!! You used the potty! Great job! You’re such a big girl! Way to go! Look at that poop!). If you ask these questions often enough, you will elicit an actual eye-roll from your toddler with the accompanying “I know, Mom!” full of teenage scorn and attitude.

(4) Accidents will happen, just like the spit-up on a new shirt or baby food on the walls. What is astounding is the quantity that can flow from such a tiny little person. Apparently that’s what 12 ounces of fluid looks like on the floor. On the plus side, doing two loads of laundry every day does make you a bit nostalgic about the newborn days. You know it’s bad when you kind of miss the convenience of diapers (There, I said it, we all have our little dark secrets).

(5) Toddlers are stubborn little things with the will of a dictator and the attention span of a gnat. Although she may be standing within inches of an available potty, and although you may have asked her a dozen times in the last five minutes and finally convinced her to go into the bathroom with you, she may still have a full blown accident standing beside the potty because she was distracted by a decorative bowl of little stones next to the toilet. Note to self: giving in to her initial demands of holding one of these stones five hours earlier is seeming less innocent now, in the wake of the big clean-up that followed.

(6 ) Potty training is not fun for toddlers either. If given the choice between having an accident in her pants or continuing to play with Play Doh, guess which one option she will choose? Now refer back to #2 above.

(7) Little girls are not born knowing to keep their knees together when on the potty. Apparently when your daughter sits on a full-sized potty with a wide stance (to keep from falling in), and you kneel in front of her (to keep her from falling in), your chest is at just the right level to receive an inconvenient dousing. I suppose this is where you feel lucky that it’s your chest and not your face. I didn’t feel quite this lucky when it happened to me.

(8) You begin to have anxiety attacks when you travel for any distance in the car. You start to obsessively memorize the maps of stores and the zoo and can tell anyone where the nearest bathroom is from your current location. You learn to chant to your little one, “Hold it in, hold it in, keep holding it in!” as you race for these spots at the count of 1, 2, 3 “I have to pee!”

(9) You notice how much better your toddler’s jeans fit without the bulk of a pull-up or diaper. Yes, this is minor silver-lining, but still, you take what you can get.

(10) You marvel the first time your toddler makes it a whole day out of the house without an accident. And life feels just a little bit easier. So while she is still able to double your blood pressure with the simple phrase “I need to use the potty,” you start to envision a life without bottles and pacifiers and diapers and lovies. At least until the next one comes along…

(11) You imagine just how much harder this would be if you had a son and had to teach him how to aim standing up. For those that do, kudos to you!

Sugar and Spice…

One of my best friends and I had children around the same time, three years ago. She had a boy, I had a girl. We often commented how fun it is that we can compare being a mom of a daughter versus a son. And there are indeed big differences, as one can image, and yet more similarities still. One of the bigger differences that we have encountered, although this may be limited to just our experiences, is the idea of gender-specific roles for boys and for girls.

My little girl is a daredevil in many ways. She has never met a sofa she didn’t want to jump on, or an obstacle too tall to climb. We did have prior knowledge since her favorite activity at 4 months old was to throw herself backwards in your arms in a reckless back dive. She also loves cars and trucks and trains, and “Bob the Builder” and “Thomas the Train Engine” were both recent obsessions. Her favorite color can be orange or black or blue or pink, depending on the day (and let’s be honest, whatever color happens to be in front of her at the time). She loves to jump in puddles and poke at insects with a stick; she loves to wrestle and dig in sand until she’s a mudpie herself. Not that she’s a tomboy, because she also adores her ballet classes, twirling in front of the mirror in her skirts or dresses, and dressing up like mom. I mention all of these activities because in my mind, she is first and foremost, a child, and then a girl.

My friend on the other hand, is always apologizing when her son likes something that is considered more “girly.” My daughter recently received a furnished doll house for her birthday. My friend’s son came over for a playdate and was absolutely enraptured by it, and she apologized several times that he was playing with her doll house and mentioned that her husband would be . . . not exactly horrified, but that they would never buy their son a doll house. She had the same reaction when he played with her play kitchen, and with her Cabbage Patch Kids. At an earlier playdate, her son was soaking wet after a satisfying time at the water table, and I offered dry clothes for him to ride home. Although the shirt was burgundy and the shorts were navy and white, she grudgingly accepted the loan because the shorts were too short and looked “girly.” I could go on, but you get the idea. She has very clear gender-roles in mind for her son.

My personal favorite has been the idea that boys are not allowed to play with play kitchens. More than one of my friends has mentioned this in passing, or sometimes it is the father that objects to the play kitchen. Here are my diplomatically couched thoughts on this: (1) I hope he marries right after college so he will never have to cook for himself; (2) what are all of those world famous chefs doing being men? and (3) it’s just playtime. Seriously. He’s not going to put on a tutu and a tiara to stir that soup he’s making for his future partner.

This is something that I have noticed at more and more playdates and public play places. The idea that some toys are feminine and others are masculine. There are even masculine and feminine equivalents of the same toy. There can be Barbie Jeep cars and cameo Hummer type cars. But somehow, the girls are supposed to gravitate towards everything pink and sweet and boys are supposed to love guns and trucks. In the end though, I think kids just like to explore and imagine and be allowed to march to the their own beat.

Regardless of color or decor or type of toy, surely childhood is the brief respite we should have to live outside box and just enjoy play time. From our perspective, she can wear her hard hat and pink tutu skirt while she plays with her Thomas Train set, or sit down to tea in her purple pajamas with her vampire doll and King Kong action figure as guests. Either way, she will find her place soon enough, and we intend to enjoy every quirky moment along the way.

Our little girl is made up of sugar and spice AND snips and snails and puppy dogs tails.

Sticks and Stones

Originally written 5 Sep 2011

Girls can be mean. Just ask anyone who has survived junior high, or high school for that matter.

Or ask a pregnant woman or first time mom.

The playgrounds are no less terrifying for a new (or battle hardened) parent than for their munchkins. At least with the littler set, I can understand. I mean, that is a pretty cool toy you have there, of course you would both want to play with it at the same time. And yes, I did see him push you first, of course you would want to push him back. Not to mention that no one likes being assaulted with a toy or having someone steal your goldfish crackers (a capital offense, if ever there was one).

But the cruelties of parents to one another is more subtle, and more undermining, in many ways. It is the way that someone can compare her child to yours without actually making an overt criticism. It is the way a supposed friend can always one-up you when you are having a bad day (or a good day for that matter). Or the way a strongly opinionated soapbox can render your parenting choices as selfish and immature, or how unsolicited advice can come across as judgmental.

Unless the person really is putting herself or her children in immediate harm’s way, chances are, she already knows that it’s time to lose the diaper and the paci, and that a lunch of goldfish and chocolate milk is not the most nutritious choice. She probably wishes her child would behave in restaurants as much as you do, and she probably hopes that some day her child will sleep past dawn. I doubt that she enjoys answering her child’s endless questions, or stepping in as referee every other minute because her child is going through a year-long “hitting phase.” And most of all, she probably wishes you would understand well enough to offer her an ear, or at least a stiff drink.

Because a support network of good friends who have blazed this trail before or alongside of you is also uplifting and necessary. No pediatrician or hand book is as personalized and meaningful as asking your friends if your child really should be screeching at the top of her lungs, or whether she will ever calm down long enough to get dressed or eat a meal at the table, or whether you can really survive potty-training while keeping your sanity. Friends are good for the practical advice that never make it into books or manuals, and when all else fails, friends are great company for a bottle of wine or something stronger.

I have been blessed to have wonderful friends who keep me sane (and some of those other “friends,” too, who keep me on my toes). Much like a good pair of jeans that hide the mummy-tummy, or a fabulous purse that can hold everything without looking like a diaper bag, or a fantastic pair of shoes that allow you to chase your toddler down the street and still look stylish, another mommy-must-have is a great group of girlfriends. ‘Cause although we love them to death, but men are just not hairy women, as a local newspaper rightly pointed out, years ago.

We’re all treading water here, even if some of us appear better at it than others.

Yoga for Moms (or Dads)

I used to be a yoga-addict (does it count as addiction if it’s good for you?). Nothing helped lower my stress and zen me out more than a hard, sweaty class followed by a yummy frozen yogurt dinner (ah, the life of a 20-something). These days, yoga has taken on a new stance in the most-baby world. Here are some of my favorite poses:

Warrior 3 – closing the fridge door with your foot (that your toddler left open) while serving up breakfast from the skillet and turning off the running faucet with the other hand (that your husband left running); a typical family morning

Tree pose – standing on one leg because you just stepped on another lego/Dora doll/rattle with baby balanced on your hip, diaper bag over arm, trying to get out the door

Cobra pose – lounging on the floor on your belly, playing with puzzles with your child, while he/she alternates between riding on your back, climbing on your shoulders, and running back to take away the puzzle piece you just fit into the board

Chair pose – sitting down in squat without aid of a chair because they were all occupied by your child’s favorite stuffed animals and dolls, but she still insists that you join them for tea (and you cannot sit on the ground because –that- would be improper, apparently)

Triangle pose – using one leg/foot to keep a heavy door wide open into the store (most likely a coffeeshop), while navigating a wide stroller through it, holding your breath that your infant who just fell asleep will continue to sleep in the store just long enough for your quadruple espresso over ice (so you can chug it like a junkie shoots heroin)

Child’s pose – curled up in a little ball in the dark closet while playing “hide and seek” with your moody toddler, enjoying the few minutes of bliss before she finds you; consider maybe hiding in the next door neighbor’s house to prolong the process

Lotus pose – or sitting cross-legged on the floor, as this is the only place that you sit anymore since you stand everywhere else and the sofa has only been used as a trampoline (by your toddler) and as a bed (at 3am by an exhausted parent who has been exiled by the (finally) sleeping baby next to his or her spouse in bed)

Corpse pose – lying on your back, pretending to sleep, taking deep breaths while counting down the last hours before your child’s bedtime; breath in (just three hours to go), breath out (I can see the light at the end of the tunnel), breath in (this too shall pass), oommph! breath out (I didn’t need those ribs anyway)

The Third Tri

Now that our daughter is three, I can see similarities between the first three years and the three trimesters of pregnancy.

In those first few months as a newborn, you experience exhaustion and nausea and wild mood swings. The exhaustion is pretty self-explanatory, except that no one ever mentions that “sleep when the baby sleeps” is a fabulous concept for those lucky few who can afford housekeepers and chefs and personal assistants. Otherwise, you start to resemble a sticky, sweaty, badly neglected baby who may receive enough sleep, but could sorely use a well balanced meal and a long, hot shower. Or even a poorly executed meal and a cold, harsh shower. We’re not terribly picky at this stage.

The nausea, of course, comes from the incredible deluge of bodily functions and fluids you never thought you could or would be comfortable handling, until you have a newborn. Your mantra becomes “I can always wash my hands. And my clothes. And the baby’s clothes. And all of the sheets. And get new carpeting. And paint the walls a nice dark plum that will cover all the stains. And breathe through my mouth.” With every blowout, the trauma lessens a bit and your ability to stomach the next strengthens, until one day you’re handling the full stripper routine like a pro: baby first, then you, then both of you in the tub, then clean clothes for baby and into the crib for a full scrub down of bathroom/bedroom/hallway, etc. for you.

And the mood swings! Who knew that this tiny little package would make you feel such wild dynamics of pure joy and utter terror all within the space of a breath (or the lack of a breath, as you check to make sure baby is breathing for the fiftieth time in an hour). To fall in love so completely is to also surrender to the tightest grips of fear of every tiny danger that could befall your beloved, including that fabulous bumper that you thought you had to have, or that intellectually-stimulating, monochromatic mobile that could fall on her head, or that 50 year old crib that your grandmother keeps insisting you use for your baby.

But then miraculously, you enter that golden second trimester, where baby becomes mobile. And although that brings its own challenges, you start to remember what a regular routine feels like and you start to get more than 3 hours of sleep a night. Diaper changes become far more routine and life is kind of fun, introducing your little one to new places and experiences. Other new parents with infants start to ask YOU for advice and you think, “huh, I think I’ve got the hang of this.”

And then your child gets older and you hit the third trimester, where everything becomes larger and unwieldy and uncomfortable. I’m talking potty-training and temper tantrums here. Because although “baby” is now over two years old, she still wants to be carried everywhere when she is tired or anxious. And let me tell you, 37 pounds of joy is just plain heavy compared to that initial 8 pounds of love. And just when you were coming to terms with diapers and actually appreciating the convenience of being able to go anywhere, for any length of time without fretting, along comes potty-training to throw a wrench in the mix. And your lovely diaper bag that was replaced with a cute, medium-sized bag, now becomes a large, unwieldy backpack as you carry two changes of clothes for your child, one change of clothes for you (because she insists on being carried), and snacks and diversions and other miscellaneous gear.

So here we are, firmly entrenched in the third trimester. She is much more active, much more expressive, but as temperamental as a summers storm. From happy go lucky to full-fledged throw-down mode in the time it takes to utter “no more lollies for you.” Not to mention the discomfort as those same parents seeking advice look around in embarrassment at dinner when it’s your child screaming a the table or it’s you chasing your streaking preschooler around the house with threats of “no books or chocolate milk tonight unless you put on these clothes right now and don’t even think about having a potty-accident while you’re running around naked! and what in the world do you have in your mouth??”

And where will this lead? With hope, to the birth of a well-behaved child as we near her fourth birthday. Although at this point, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be all natural and mommy needs a stiff drink to anesthetize the (growing) pain(s).

Norman Rockwell Can Kiss My Tush

Growing up, my dearest, fondest wish was a very Merry Norman Rockwell Christmas (and Thanksgiving, but this is the Christmas edition). You know, the version with little rumple-haired children falling asleep in front of the lit fireplace and the sparkly tree on Christmas Eve, being carried to bed by mom and dad, and sleeping soundly until (very early) Christmas morning to bounce down the stairs to a heavily laden stash of brightly colored, wrapped presents.

Well, having not received these types of rosy holidays as a child, I was determined to make them extra-special for my daughter when our little family of two became a family of three. So far, this is what I have learned:

1) Babies and toddlers are scared of Santa. I mean, come on! Who doesn’t love the big guy with the twinkly eyes, the wide lap, and the power to give great presents?

Babies and toddlers, that’s who. Every time we tried to take a photo with Santa, usual mayhem ensued. As a baby, at least all she did was launch herself out of Santa’s lap into mommy’s (unsuspecting) arms. As a toddler, she happily raced to Santa when it was her turn, in order to make a sharp, right turn as she neared the big guy, with a look of utter terror on her face that he was much, much bigger in person than she thought. This year, we have finally graduated up to the lean as far away from Santa as possible and pretend-to-be-happy-about-it-smile. I’ll take it.

2) Too many presents can overwhelm a young child. After opening the first present, she wants to play with the new toy. Now, while I certainly cannot blame her, why does every toy have to come with 100 of those annoying black twist ties? And the non-twist-ties that take a pair of garden shears to cut open. And about 100 yards of tape. And don’t get me started about those hard-plastic-two-piece packages around some electronic toys that take super human strength (and leave about 12 fairly deep cuts) to open. Seriously. Who are these sadists that invent these migraine-inducing packages?

3) Kids only know one (if you’re lucky two) Christmas carols. So while you may have visions of singing around the Christmas tree or piano, your toddler has plans to scream “Jingle Bells” at the top of her lungs. And not the entire song, just “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells.” And if you’re silly enough to try singing the “dashing through the snow” verse, be prepared for a lot of bossy shrieking about how you’re not doing it right.

Subsection (b) if you’re really lucky, your child is in preschool and they have taught her a new “holiday song,” the words of which you do not know. And since she’s only 3, she doesn’t know the words either. But she desperately wants to sing them with you. So you try to make the words up as you go. Big. Mistake. I refer you back to mayhem above regarding “dashing through the snow.” Nothing annoys a preschooler more than when she knows something that you don’t know, but she can’t remember it well enough to teach you.

4) Christmas cookies apparently look prettier on the walls, the floors, and down your preschooler’s pants. You have 1950’s visions of making beautiful, poignant cookies with your darling little girl, and decorating them with festive sprinkles and artful little swirls. Ha. Yeah, that’s right, ha.

As you’re turning around to get another pan out of the oven, your tiny darling is trying to shovel as many cookies in her mouth as possible (leading to the hysteria-driven tantrums mentioned above when you don’t know the words to “the blue mitten loves Frosty who is best friends with Rudolph on Santa’s Sleigh” or something like that).

Sprinkles are finding themselves into every conceivable crevice of your kitchen (where you know they will melt unseen and cause little pet ants to migrate in the spring) and into your hair and down your shirt and down her pants, but NOT on the cookies themselves. And if you were silly enough to let her have a hand in making the cookie dough that morning? Flour was already in all those same crevices that the sprinkles now adorn.

5) Decorating a tree with your gorgeous bundle of joy will be a wonderful family tradition. Well, it’s not entirely your preschooler’s fault that spherical ornaments look like balls. They are after all, balls on a string. And you can’t really blame her for treating them like the soft balls they throw at school. Even if they were a family heirloom (and you shouldn’t have turned your back on her in the first place, even if it was to catch the 8 foot tree as it started to tip over on your head). The same with all those priceless (or pricey) crystal ornaments. They are pretty sparkly after all. Who wouldn’t want to run over to the window with one to see how the sunlight creates rainbows in the crystals. Even if you might trip and send the said crystal flying.

6) Sleigh rides are a lovely winter tradition. Especially when you were smart enough to bundle up your baby in layers, with mittens and hat and snowpants and snowboots to keep her cozy. Even better when she’s now potty-trained and after waiting for 30 minutes for the sleigh ride, you hear, “mommy, I need to go potty,” as you get ready to board. At the mall. With no potty in sight. Well, at least all those layers will be absorbent if you don’t make it in time.

7) Snowball fights and snow angels are a great winter activity, sure to make memories. Unless your little one has a hard time making snowballs with her mittens on (seeing as she’s still mastering turning door knobs and getting her shoes on by herself). So she takes off her mittens and happily makes a few to toss at you. And then she starts to cry because her hands are too cold. But now you’ve lost the mittens, and she won’t take yours as a substitute because they are (a) too big and (b) not pink, which you should know is her “favorite color!!!”

Snow angels on the other hand, are kind of doomed from the beginning if you have a child who is not thrilled by the idea of cold snow going down her neck or up her pants (but keeps forgetting her finicky ways and insists that you help her make an angel).

8) Writing a letter to Santa is a lovely tradition to start when your child first understands the concept of both Santa and letters. That is, unless your child sees this as a free-for-all to ask for whatever catches her eye. And as any parent of a young child knows, their whims have a shelf-life shorter than a ripe banana. And Murphy’s Law dictates that as soon as you find that “must-have” toy (and if you’re brave, at a great discount on Black Friday), she will have changed her mind and now desperately, heartbreakingly earnestly must have something entirely different.

9) Extended family can make the big day extra special with their festive attitudes and helpful ways. I’m pretty sure we all have extended family and know how naïve this one is from the start.

10) There’s nothing like sitting down to a joyful meal with all of your nearest and dearest to celebrate the season. That is, unless some of you happen to be under the age of 10, and there’s nothing you would rather do less than sit still for a long, boring meal. And not only will you not admire the food (because you’re 3 years old), but you will also not eat any of the lovely meal. And will demand that you have buttered toast for dinner. Buttered on both sides. With the crusts off. No!! Not cut into slices, I need it whole! (unlike yesterday when I wanted it in slices.)

Despite all of this, there is no one I would rather celebrate my favorite time of year with than my darling little girl. Seeing the wonder of the lit trees and shiny decorations reflected in her eyes makes it all worth it.

So raise a glass with me, will you, and Merry Christmas, one and all.

10 Ways To Make The Holidays Meaningful For Kids

As we recover from Black Friday and Cyber Monday, I wonder if there’s a way (or two or three) to show our munchkins some of the non-present sides of the season. Here are some ideas:

1) Get together with some friends or moms’ groups and teach your kids just a few, simple carols. If you’re ambitious, add in a few instruments like bells or some sign language. And go serenade a retirement home. Get extra brownie points by checking to see if you can bring some cookies along.

2) Ask a local soup kitchen if you (and your friends or moms’ groups) can bake some cookies for them and enjoy making (several dozen) cookies for those less fortunate. Or your local Ronald McDonald House, or a shelter for women and children.

3) Go to your local bookstore and buy a book for a child, and maybe inspire the love of learning in another family. Choose a family favorite to make it special, or let your child choose a new holiday classic to add to his or her collection and give a second as a gift to a family less fortunate.

4) Adopt a child or a family to shower with Christmas presents. Let your child choose a toy or two, and explain that although he or she is a very lucky child, others are less fortunate and he or she has the ability to be “Santa’s little helper” and make someone else’s Christmas just a bit more jolly.

5) Collect together old toys and cold weather clothes, still in great condition, and make a trip to your local charity for a drop off.

6) Make some homemade Christmas cards with handprints or footprints (and plenty of sparkle) to send to the military overseas who must be extra-homesick during the holidays. May be include a little wish for “Peace on Earth” so that they may return soon to their families at home.

7) Donate some favorite holiday classics like hot chocolate mix or packages of marshmallows or pre-packaged cookies to a food shelter. You may not be able to feed everyone, but whomever receives it might feel just a bit more warm and toasty. Maybe package each piece nicely with some holiday stickers and a personal note.

8) Consider donating a goat or flock of geese to a family abroad, whose lives and livelihood could change overnight with such a gift. Explain to your child what this might mean to a family who is less fortunate, and have your child help you with handmade cards explaining to loved ones that this year, you have donated the gift of livelihood to another family, in their honor and in the spirit of the season.

9) Pick out a plastic (or other easily sterilized) toy and wrap it up for a child spending his or her Christmas at the hospital. Maybe a new, shiny toy would be a nice distraction as they are recuperating.

10) Make sure to remember loved ones far away with something personal. Maybe a Skype call or a video greeting or some personalized pottery piece for the grandparents or aunts and uncles who are too far away to travel. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like the personal touch.

If you’re ready and you know it, clap your hands

The recent tragedy of Madonna Badger reminded me how ill-prepared we are sometimes for the forces of nature. And this is particularly tragic because it is my job to be prepared, both as a professional, and as a mom. Here are my emergency preparedness tips for you and your family. Do we do all of these things? No. But every little bit helps.

(1) check your smoke alarms annually (at least); install new batteries, check that they work properly

(2) make sure that the storm windows in your basement can actually open in case of an emergency

(3) cover storm wells in the summer so that small children will not fall through

(4) at least one bedroom upstairs (ideally all bedrooms) should have an escape ladder tucked in the room in case of fire

(5) have at least one, if not two, fire extinguishers near the kitchen; (5.b.) know how to use them – the first time I tried using one (to put out a fire in our toaster oven, I accidentally fired it backwards, towards my husband’s face . . .

(6 ) have a “go pack” ready – this is a backpack that has copies of all of the important papers and other items that you might need in case of a fire. Have it in your home office or mudroom or somewhere near an exit or the garage. It should have copies of an insurance in formation, numbers and accounts you will need to contact companies in case of fire or natural disaster; an emergency contact list would be helpful too, although most of us have this on our phones these days. If you feel ambitious, also store your passports and a check book and some extra cash in here. This is how you will rebuild your life if you need to evacuate quickly.

(7) have an emergency meet-up place outside of your home in case you and your family get split up or are not together when the emergency occurs; maybe a friend’s house in a different town, or another location. Also have a back-up emergency meet-up place that is farther out of town (or in the next state) in case something happens in the entire area (e.g. tornado or earthquake, etc.)

(8 ) have an emergency phone number that is out of state that everyone in your family can call to get in contact; during a local emergency, cell phone towers may be down due to high traffic. Having an outside number you can call from a landline or payphone can keep you all in contact.

(9) try to refill prescription drugs before they are completely empty; make sure to keep them together and in a place you can grab quickly if you need to evacuate (instead of all over the house like ours end up sometimes)

(10) try to fill up your car when it gets to half a tank instead of waiting until empty (or waiting several miles after the light comes on – it’s a weird game of “chicken” I play with my car; I don’t know why, it’s a quirk). Especially in cold weather, you do not want to run out of gas if it takes you several hours to get home in a snow storm.

(11) keep emergency supplies in your car during the cold weather – a sleeping bag or warm blankets, a few bottles of water, some non-perishable snacks, flashlight and extra batteries, jumper cables, make sure the spare tire is in good condition, etc.

(12) have an emergency stock of canned goods and bottles of water in case you need to “shelter-in-place” for awhile in your home. Plan for roughly one flat (24 bottles) of water, per person, in your household. Yes, this is probably unrealistic, but even just an extra flat or two could be helpful. Keep them in the garage or mudroom so that if you need to evacuate in your car, you can toss them in the trunk quickly.

(13) when there is a sale on at the grocery store, or every time you go grocery shopping, buy an extra non-perishable item for your pantry in case of emergency. Over time, you will build  up a nice supply. Just remember to rotate your supply so the expiration dates are not an issue. And buy foods that your family will eat (tuna is great for emergencies, but if no one will eat it, it’s just a paperweight). Also, consider that the electricity might be out, so consider foods that do not need to be heated or cooked.

(14) consider back-up plans for your digital files. If there’s a house fire, or if you need to evacuate quickly, how have you backed-up all of your photos and videos and files. An external harddrive is great for insuring against a computer failure, but if you need to evacuate (or if you’re not at home when disaster strikes), you may not be able to access it. Consider uploading photos and videos to a free site that allows for full-resolution uploads (photos) or youtube type places for videos.

(15) your “go-pack” should also include any necessary items that you might need overnight (e.g. change of clothes, baby formula, glasses, prescriptions, etc.)

(16) obviously, this is a long list. We’re not going to all be able to accomplish all of these. But at least sit down together and review the list. See where you are as a family in terms of preparedness, prioritize what can be done, and discuss where you might go next. And in the end, as they say in my husband’s home land, just remember to “stay calm, and carry on.”

Parenting Walks of Shame

As a parent, there are many types of walks of shame in the first few  years. Some are more personal, like walking through a restaurant with two spreading headlights on your shirt as your body realizes that the baby’s hungry (except the baby’s not with you because you dared to take a long lunch with your girlfriends, first time post partum, and baby is safely at home with pumped milk in the fridge at the ready). There’s the slightly more urgent walk of shame as you hurry to the restroom to clean up after your baby has a blow-out or there’s abundant spit-up slowly making it’s way down your shirt. But these are all fully understandable in those first, hazy weeks of parenthood. It’s the later walks of shame that are sometimes more . . . embarrassing.

My daughter is recently potty-trained (it’s been six months, but I’m being generous here). One of the more athletic walks of shame is the mad dash from the far, opposite corner of Costco to the bathroom at the dreaded words, “mommy, I have to go to the potty.” Because by the time she’s uttered these words, the clock starts counting down, and you’ve got about 30 seconds before the big flood. So off we merrily go, blithely abandoning the cart, with her tucked tightly in my arms, her clutching her bottom, both of us chanting “hold it in, hold it in, hold it in” as I beat my personal best track-n-field record for the 100m sprint. So far, no major accidents.

There’s the very well-recognized walk of shame after the grocery/toy/drug store melt-down. It’s usually after all of the items of shopping are in your cart, often at checkout. There’s just something your child must absolutely have, right-this-minute, or her little heart will just break. And after a long day of diplomacy and negotiation, this is where you decide to draw the line. Hours (well, minutes really) of yelling later (and this is just from your end), it’s time to pick her up, limbs flailing, and make that walk of shame out the store and to the car. I guess you didn’t really need those groceries for dinner/toys for the birthday party/anti-anxiety meds for you.

And finally, there’s my least favorite walk of shame: the daily pick-up from preschool. Our daughter is in that lovely period of 2-4 years old, otherwise known as the 6th ring of hell. So every day at pick-up, it’s a crapshoot as to whether she has been well-behaved. On a good day, I get a smile from her teacher and a reassuring thumbs-up as I walk through the classroom door, implying to me that there will be stickers and happy faces on her daily sheet. I know it’s a good day, because her teacher doesn’t bother to get up from the floor, where she’s anchored by no less than 6 kids crawling all over her.

My level of dread, however, is inversely proportional to the speed at which she rises to give me bad news. On a difficult day, she starts to rise as soon as she spots me through the door. And then she approaches with that “we need to talk” look that I have come to know, and we chat about the “sad choices” that my daughter has made and the many adventures in not-napping that have occurred. Apparently naptime is a good opportunity for chatting to friends, or singing at the top of her lungs, or for playing with her lovey, who likes to skip around her cot and in and out of the holes and dance around her belly. This is all quite amusing . . . if it were happening to someone else. Isn’t parenting grand?

What is your “favorite” walk of shame?

What Not to Wear (but do, every day)

Apparently there was once this TV show that would go around and interview random people on the street and ask them what they were wearing (labels) and then would critique the outfit in the studio. This probably caused an entire nation to critically examine their closets in the morning (these are clearly young adults without children), or (sensibly) avoid the TV crews on the street. I can only shudder to think what they would say about my daily attire as a mom.

First of all, let me start by saying that I work from home. This implies two things: my child is in full-time preschool (or let’s be real, daycare) and secondly, I can wear what I want around the house. But there’s this brief period of time called “drop-off” and “pick-up” when I have to look “presentable,” and even I draw the line at wearing my colorful pink giraffe print pajamas out of the house (thanks Victoria’s Secret!).

So every morning, I brush my teeth, put in my contacts, do something sensible with my hair (e.g. quick up-do or ponytail), and put on an outfit for the preschool parade of parents (whom this is all for, since the kids would probably appreciate pink giraffe print). To add some complexity to the situation, I am still in that in between size where most of my pre-pregnancy clothes do not fit in a flattering manner, and I am just plain too stubborn to buy bigger clothes. Thus my clothing choices are mostly limited to a the few tops and bottoms that are appropriate (e.g. no flesh showing where it should not) and vaguely comfortable. So my daily wardrobe for her (kind of elitist, private) preschool is as follows:

• yoga bottoms
• yoga tank
• semi-cute hoodie or fleece jacket
• cute sneakers or flipflops or faux-fur boots (weather dependent)
• hair up and out of my face

On a REALLY good day, a light film of foundation and some mascara, maybe some chapstick that I slick on after my daughter is done playing with my makeup set (she’s only allowed to play with the brushes and chapstick – no Toddlers and Tiaras here).

This isn’t too bad, because my gym IS across the street and I do sometimes go after drop-off. But here’s the thing. As soon as I get home, I change back into pajamas. Because comfortable as yoga clothes are on me, I really prefer the extra roominess of wide legged PJ bottoms. And sometimes, after a busy day in my office, I kind of forget exactly which yoga outfit I wore that morning. If I’m really industrious, I put on “real clothes” to pick her up, keeping up the pretense that I went to the gym after drop-off and I am now presentable.

But more often than not, I put my yoga clothes back on for pick-up as well. So I have to wonder, what do others’ think when they see me? That I’m perpetually dressed for a yoga class that I never actually attend? That I go to yoga after dropping her off, go home and shower and change into identical yoga clothes, then go to another class at night? No, I’m pretty sure the gig is up and they know I’m just slumming it at home and barely making an effort for them. C’est la vie.

Four Years in the Trenches, Some Random Thoughts

Our daughter just celebrated her fourth year and as we were running around, taping up balloon banners and pennants and laying out a nail salon and face paint station and creating tea sandwiches and an assortment of tasty desserts, these thoughts were foremost in our minds:

- thank god her birthday only comes around once a year. Not only would we be broke, but also broken, battered, shuddering heaps, running entirely on coffee fumes

- there were moments when we seriously doubted all three of us would make it to her fourth birthday (you know what I mean)

- the reason expecting parents agonize over the name of their child is because they must know, subconsciously, that whatever name is chosen will be heard and spoken and shouted roughly one million times a day. You had better really like that name. Try this: take a ball, roll it down your driveway towards the street, and start shouting that name in increasingly more shrill tones. Still like the name? Then you found a winner.

- expectations of good nutrition for you and for your child start plummeting down a slippery slope when your child turns two. Or three. It started with all organic, well-balanced, homemade meals. This was great for the first year or two of eating solids. You secretly (or not so secretly) patted yourself on the back for having such an excellent eater. Then she turned two. And now she eats a steady diet of buttered bread, cream cheese and crackers, chicken nuggets, fruit of all kinds, and chocolate milk. Some days, you swear the only thing standing between her and starvation is the chocolate milk.

- siblings were made to help entertain one another. We have an only child. It has taken us four years to realize this little gem. She will (hopefully) be receiving a baby brother or sister in the near future. Our tired bones need a break.

- hide and seek is a fantastic game. If you find a great hiding place (like under your blankets in bed), you can catch a quick power nap if you convince her to count to 100 (and since she can’t quite do this on her own yet, it actually takes her even longer). Or better yet, have her hide and take five to make yourself a cup of coffee and savor the silence.

- you didn’t know what a fantastic liar you could be until you had kids. Those little white lies that you practiced for your friends and your partner? Yeah, you could cover your neighborhood in snow with the doozies you have come up with in parenting.

- it’s probably not a great sign when your child refers to your (regular) glass of wine as “mommy juice.”

- you could still be so terrified of all the many big and small ways that your child could be hurt, even though she’s now “big girl” and no longer a baby.

- that you can have such unique and fun conversations with this little person, and belly laugh your way through those long, long days.

- that your heart could still expand, that you could love her more day by day, and that you can find a soul-drenching peace within the small moments with your child.

Off the beaten track

There’s a saying that goes something like this: if you make a plan, life will just laugh at you. The original saying is much more elegant, but you get the general idea.

When I was younger (e.g. before kids), I had a pretty clear life plan. I spent much of my 20’s in school (first college, then graduate) and had a pretty clear idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. First graduate school, then postdoctorate research, then an academic career. Seems pretty easy, right?

And then I got ambitious. I wanted my career, and a family. I somehow thought that being pregnant would be –just– the motivation I needed to finish my degree. Well, pregnancy had its own plans and finishing my degree was not part of them.

But in those first hazy, infatuated days of motherhood, I simply didn’t care. I was in love with my newborn and wanted nothing more than to squish her cuddly self and proclaim my amazement at her tiny toes. We had six blissful months of enjoying the novelty and wonder of becoming parents: picnics and zoo trips, Father’s Day, July 4th fireworks at the beach, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and her first Christmas. And then like all things in life, everything changed.

We found out on New Year’s Day that my mother had the big C. And not one of those subtypes that can be won with miracle drugs and fighting the good fight. One of the bad ones that are terminal and painful and horrid. But we got through it, all of us, and we had eight months together before the end. Because the hour after we heard the news, we started packing up our lives in California and moved our family 2000 miles away, back to my hometown near Chicago.

And so started the year from hell. A big move cross country with a 7-month old, a new routine of hospital visits and doctors visits and chemo and radiation. Hope and disappointment, kairos moments of family bliss tempered with unjust despair at how things turned out, all mixed up; shaken, not stirred. And underneath all of this, finishing up my degree in four months so that I could graduate in time for my mom. For seven years, our weekly conversations had centered around two main topics: how was I? and when would I graduate. It was a bittersweet moment when we had a chance to get a photo together in my cap and gown, in our living room, after we canceled our trip to California for commencement because she was too ill to travel.

And then she passed, on a beautiful fall day, surrounded by family and friends. And there was the funeral to plan and execute, her estate to clear and details to attend to, and her home to pack up and renovate; and in moments both too long and too short, the year was over. With the weighty responsibilities of parenting and work and her estate to manage, another year passed as well, but a better one, filled with those magical moments of early childhood where the wonder of a child can heal your soul and lift you up out of grief and loss and uncertainty.

So we found ourselves buying a home, building a new life in the Midwest, one where we would raise our daughter, maybe add to our family, and hope that there would be many good days ahead. But in buying that home, establishing a new life here, something was exchanged in the process. My old plan, my career, my clear and certain path.

There is a part of me that wonders, in an alternate universe, is there another version of me that completed that original checklist? Would she be on her way to an academic career? Would she still be living in California? Would her mother still be alive and well? Some days, I would like to be her.

But most other days, I count my blessings. My gift of a daughter, whom I adore and who adores me back; my loving husband who deserves real medals for putting up with me; my incredible friends and family who find me funny and support me when I’m not. We have a good life here.

Even if my career is faltering, even if my work is treading water until we have another child and he or she is ready for full-time preschool, life is still full of possibilities. I am making peace with this different path. It is okay to choose my family, to choose this life we have made for ourselves, instead of professional accolades. And when my former classmates write of their fancy fellowships or new academic positions, of the great strides they are making in their fields, I find myself cheering them on, and only a bit wistful of their success.

This wasn’t the path that I had designed, but it is the one that I am on, and I will stop along the way to enjoy the roses.

Walk a Mile (in my sticky, blotchy, cereal-encrusted shoes with bubblegum on top)

A friend of mine, who does not have children, recently posted this poll:

“Ok, FB friend..help settle a debate. This is especially directed to parents with young children. Is it rude to tell someone that they or their kids are being too loud in a restaurant,coffeeshop,business,etc. How would you, as a parent,react if a stranger approached you and asked you and\or your children to be quiet(er). What would be inappropriate? How would you like being approached? How not?”

There were a variety of responses, but what really struck me was the big divide between those with kids and those without kids. To grossly generalize, those without kids were mostly unsympathetic to noisy and rowdy kids running wild in public, especially restaurants, coffee shops, and movie theaters. Those with kids were divided between those were sympathetic, and those who believed their children were always well behaved and respectful in public (or whose children would be removed if they were otherwise).

From my point of view, I can sympathize with all three points of view. Despite what my frazzled appearance may suggest, I remember the days before children. I remember going out to nice restaurants or the movies and being aggravated by unruly children. But that was in the halcyon days before children, where I sincerely believed we would live these all-natural, no-tv, only homecooked meals and riveting conversations around the family dinner table, attachment parenting lives (feel free to laugh hysterically here – I just did).

But then we had kids, which is a 24/7, 365 kind of commitment. No weekends, vacations, or sick days (well, mostly) – that’s a tougher gig than even the most rigorous residency, investment banking, or second year associate in a law firm kind of job. And the reality is, those brief tantrums that others are witnessing (e.g. suffering) may be annoying for those few minutes (or if you’re unlucky, a transpacific flight), but those parents are dealing with it daily. Every day, weekends and holidays too. So give us a break. We’re really doing the very best that we can, even if sometimes that does not seem to be enough.

Afterall, the table of drunken football fans spilling their beer and obscenities everywhere is just as distracting for us as our food-throwing, juice-spilling children are to you (actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve been food fights among sports fans as well). As are rowdy bachelorette parties, fraternity brothers on spring break, sorority sisters out bonding, or extra-loud tourists everywhere . . . there is a time and a place for peace and quiet. It’s probably at a yoga class or waiting in the doctor’s office exam room. But it most likely is not at a chain restaurant on a Friday night or even a “nice” restaurant at a weekend brunch. Relax, and have another cocktail. At least you’re not worried about them serving it to your child by accident!

Battle of the Muffin Top

Sadly, this is not a blog entry about wrestling the top of a tasty muffin away from my child, although that kind of behavior did contribute to the topic of today: that dreaded muffin top. I would love to blame my jeans. After all, what adult who is larger than a size 4, wants to wear low-slung jeans that require having perfectly slim, sculpted hips and abs? But the reality is, I’ve been ignoring the growing problem of my midsection for way too long. Too many broken New Year’s resolutions, too many excuses to not visit the gym, too many late night gab fests over carbs and wine.

Like many, I have started (and cheated on) many diets. I try avoiding carbs, avoiding alcohol, not eating past 7pm, only eating foods that are green or yellow, eating while slowly jogging in place, only eating my daughter’s leftovers, etc. Unfortunately, none of them have helped, because according to recent studies, in order to lose weight, not only do you have to exercise and follow a healthy diet, you also need to:

- get adequate amounts of sleep

- reduce stress

I think any parent reading this right now had a good snort or chuckle at those two. I did, even as I was writing them. Because no matter my good intentions, I am patently unable to get to bed before 11pm. When your “free time” starts in the evening, it’s hard to give up those precious moments to relax, catch up with the spouse, feed your brain some quality tv junk food, and while you’re at it, feed your increasing belly some satisfying junk food too.

However, four years later and twenty pounds heavier, I looked in the mirror one morning in horror and thought – is this the best my body can be for the rest of my life? I mean, it only goes downhill as we get older. And early thirties is just too young to give up on my body!

Now, many of these observations are shallow and focused on appearances. No one likes having their belly and hips hanging out of their pants. Everyone would love to find a flattering pair of jeans or swimsuit that makes them want to leave the house and flaunt it. But what really struck me was this: I can be healthier than this.

I can be stronger than this. I want to be able to run after my child, I want to play with her (instead of worn out refrain of “mommy’s too tired”), and most importantly, I want to be around for a long, long time. I want to watch her graduate, and get married, and play with my grandchildren, years and years from now.

So with that motivation in mind, I got to work. It is slow going. It is hard. But it’s for the very best of reasons. So I started tracking my calories and stayed within my limit (which at 1200 calories a day is HARD). I dress in work out clothes every morning M – F and I hit the gym as soon as I drop her off at preschool. And I sweat. And curse and push harder and go farther. And day by agonizingly slow day, little by little, it’s working. Down twelve pounds, looking trimmer, and feeling stronger already. After all, my daughter is counting on me, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

I remind myself daily, I have to take care of myself in order to care for her. And I want to be a good role model. Nothing makes me happier than when she comments that “mommy, are you exercising? That’s good. Because you need strong muscles to do things, like ballet and play soccer. When I grow up and I’m big, I’ll have strong muscles too.” Yes, darling, yes you will. And I want to be around to see it.

Life Lessons from His Holiness

This was a beautiful post from Spiritual Now regarding “20 Ways to Get Good Karma” by the Dalai Lama (http://www.spiritualnow.com/articles/25/1/20-Ways-to-Get-Good-Karma/Page1.html)

Instructions for Life

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
2. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
3. Follow the three R’s:
   -  Respect for self,
   -  Respect for others and
   -  Responsibility for all your actions.
4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great relationship.
7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
8. Spend some time alone every day.
9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.
10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and
    think back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.
12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.
14. Share your knowledge. It is a way to achieve immortality.
15. Be gentle with the earth.
16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.
17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.
19. If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.
20. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.

A Grateful Heart

Like many folks, New Years Resolutions for me have been just a game of chicken against the clock, and the clock always wins. Past resolutions of great hilarity include giving up caffeine or alcohol or getting to the gym more or giving up sweets. It’s like setting up an obstacle course for yourself that you can’t possibly do, then turning out all the lights, tying your shoelaces together, downing a tumbler of tequila, and then attempting the course.

The last year, 2011, was a rough year for many of our friends, rife with illness and the loss of loved ones. As we begin 2012, we can only hope that this new year, this bright shiny slate of opportunity and luck, may be full of possibility and growth (and most importantly, of health). So this year, I’d like to try a different approach. Not less ambitious, but more positive. Instead of the things I’m going to give up (like potatoes, and boy do I love potatoes), I’m going to do more, embrace more, just be more.

(1) Complain less and embrace more the time with my child.

We’re all tired; the kind of mind-numbing, down to the bone weary that a direct IV of coffee can barely touch. But I look at photos of my 3.5 year old, as I assemble holiday cards or photobooks, and it shocks me –every- time how much she has grown. And there is a sadness, both unique and universal, to parents as they watch their child grow. I want to be more present, more aware, and more in the moment when it comes to enjoying the time with my child. Exhausting and infuriating as she is in the moment . . .

(2) Be more grateful for my health and for my body and mind.

I can easily summarize all of my New Year Resolutions into one category: lose weight and get healthier. But I had this realization the other day – what if this is as good as it gets? I’m not saying that I plan to forgo the extra helping of veggies or kicking my butt to the gym more (because goodness knows I need both), but ten or twenty years from now, I will marvel at how limber and spry I was in my early thirties. The time to get off that sofa and go, go, go is now. I may not be in the shape I want to be in, but I might be in better shape than I will be in a decade or two. So let’s embrace today and do something fun (that also happens to be active).

(3) Experience new activities and foods and experiences.

It’s easy to rest on your laurels. To remember all of the amazing adventures and opportunities you engaged in during your youth or 20’s and 30’s (or 40’s and 50’s). But time moves forward. And I do not want it to progress without me. As the pajamas and sofa and television call, I want to continue to challenge myself and my beliefs and to move forward. What will I try in 2012? Hopefully several new things I have never experienced before.

(4) Learn to love more easily, and to forgive more completely.

It’s an easy cliché. My dad didn’t spend enough time with me, my mom didn’t understand me, my friend betrayed me, and my in-laws are . . . well, my in-laws. But at some point, we mature beyond our external environment and our relationships. You may love them or hate them, but family is family and that will always be true. I hope to find more about my family to love, and learn to forgive past transgressions. Not entirely for my daughter’s sake, but also because it takes too much energy to hate and resent one another.

(5) Learn to love food again, in all its complexity and simplicity.

I love vegetables. I can’t cook them very well, but I love them. And all of the experts agree – there’s no such thing as too many veggies in your diet. I hope to eat more real foods, and really savor them. In “The End of Overeating,” the author notes that the best diet is “to eat food, only food, in moderation.” So before popping that Dorito in my mouth, I’ll ask myself, “is this the very best potato chip I can possibly eat?” If not, then it’s just an empty calorie and not worth it. The chocolate truffles from a 5-star restaurant on the other hand? Yes, please!

(6 ) Find more time for myself (and learn to say “no”)

We all wear many hats. I’m a mom and a wife and a sister, a daughter and friend and co-worker and employee. And a dozen other little jobs as well. But first and foremost, I am also personally responsible for my own bliss. It’s time to reclaim my bliss. To carve out those few minutes a day I need to recharge and simply be me.

(7) To find new ways and remember old reasons for loving my husband

We are approaching our 7th wedding anniversary this summer. All jokes aside about the 7-year-itch, it’s nice to remember sometimes why I said “yes” in the first place. Especially when dishes remain unwashed, laundry remains in baskets, and lists remain unchecked. And if we’re going to make it to our 50th anniversary, we need to not only continue the romance, but learn to grow together as we grow individually. I have some friends that are taking a curling lesson together next month. Once I stopped laughing, I realized it was incredibly sweet.

(8) Make more quality time with friends.

I’m really good at organizing get-togethers and parties. I thrive on the planning and execution, and the energy of the event. Although it is stressful, I love the happy chaos of a good party. However, I rarely get to spend any meaningful time with anyone at these mini-raves. I strive to carve out more one-on-one quality time with good friends, maybe even learn new things about them and be more available to listen.

(9) Do more for the environment and my community.

I’m a lazy environmentalist. We recycle, buy organic and sustainable goods (when possible), and minimize wastes (food, paper, buy secondhand, etc.). But most of this is minimizing the excess of living in a 1st world nation. I don’t really give back at all. This year, I hope to do more. Maybe plant a veggie garden with my daughter and expand her love of nature (she’s already a treehugger and I have the photos to prove it!).

(10) Be less neurotic and obessive.

My husband is constantly reminding me that my “way is not the only way.” And infuriating as that is at the time (because seriously, there is clearly an efficient way to load the dishwasher and an insane way to do it, but that’s beside the point), he is right. Life is too short to stress about the little stuff. And almost everything is “little” in the grand scheme. So find the few things that are deal breakers (mostly safety-related or health issues), and every thing else is simply a preference. And when all else fails, flip a coin, and pour yourselves a drink.

In Defense of Public Schools

Our daughter recently celebrated her third birthday and many of our friends with similar aged children have begun discussing the educational choices faced by suburban parents in earnest. As a product of public school education, I must admit that I never gave a second thought to any alternatives. Our daughter would be attending public school. It’s why we live in the midwest, in a city that is known for its high caliber public school system (not to mention high property taxes that support the public schools). However, as the debate has become more heated, here are the alternatives that have been mentioned by friends:

Private School – most common are Catholic or Lutheran schools, primarily for religious reasons for the former, and because neighboring school systems are not as competitive for the latter

Homeschooling – a movement that has gained more momentum, partly due to the anti-vaccine movement, and partly due to a desire for more religious themes in education without the cost of private schools

Unschooling – a trending methodology where children are given most of the freedom to choose what they learn, how they learn, and when they learn

Here are my thoughts on each of those educational models above. Keep in mind, we have the distinct advantage of living in a solidly middle-class suburb that has easy access to award winning schools (greatschools.org ranks the in town high schools with 9’s and 10’s out of 10). Geography would otherwise influence the opinions I expressed below.

Private School

I refer you back to the above comments about the excellent public schools. The median home price in our town is 50% above the national average and real estate taxes are fairly hefty, especially when multiplied against the median home price. Every year of private school just depresses the amount towards higher education in the future. Therefore, we feel that one of the draws of living in this town is the well-funded, and high performing school system.

However, we always wanted a secular education for our children. If we were motivated by more religious beliefs, I can understand why parents would seek out private schools for their children. After all, we believe firmly in the separation of church and state, and thus the lack of religious education in our public schools is a major motivational element for many parents to seek out parochial schools.

Unschooling

There are many things that children learn in school besides the actual coursework. Learning is a process, one that has been studied and debated and revised over the years. There is a difference between following  your passion, and becoming a well-educated individual. We all have our hobbies, we all have different interests, and those who went to college had to choose a major. This is not to say that we all turned out to be exactly the same. We can still train under a formal education system, and emerge with unique strengths, skills, and interests.

My worry about an unschooling system becoming the majority influence is that (1) it behooves us as a nation to have well-rounded, well-educated children and (2) to master many subjects requires a more formal approach.

The renaissance man (or woman) was once thought of as someone who knew a little about almost everything, and almost everything about one thing. As a nation that needs to become more involved in the big debates of the day (debt crisis, cost of medical care, educational gaps, dependence on fossil fuels, global trade inequalities, shrinking economy), a well-rounded education produces better informed voters. And one must hope that a more informed voter will potentially raise the level of debate, and possibly aid in the solution to some of these important issues. This country faces many serious problems, a little bit of serious education in the voters of tomorrow is not unwarranted.

Many subjects, like science or mathematics or foreign languages, require rigorous methods and continued practice to master. As an example, we already fall behind in math compared to other industrialized nations. Math is not particularly fun for most people; but like learning a language or a musical instrument, mathematics requires industrious and consistent training. Mathematics builds upon itself; it would be difficult to understand calculus or even geometry without first conquering multiplication and division. Studies have shown that in lower performing schools, children often fall behind over summer break and require catching up in the fall-semester. This argument has lead to experiments with year-round school. Although I prefer having a summer break, this argument does speak to the necessity of training and practice in maintaining new skills.

Homeschooling

I can certainly appreciate the draw of this type of system for parents who want a more hands-on approach to how and what their children are taught. Certainly this is an effective way to ensure that your personal beliefs, religious or otherwise, are strongly incorporated into the curriculum. However, my primary argument against homeschooling is this: we are primarily generalists in most topics and specialists in one (or a small handful).

Even after eight years of graduate school, after four years of college, I would not presume to profess an expertise in everything. My understanding of history or sociology or creative writing or industrial arts remains solidly in the domain of my high school training. And there were classes that I struggled with in school, such as geography or physics or multivariate calculus. Despite our failing schools, I am still grateful that we have teachers who specialize in their fields and who can pass that knowledge on to our children. And teaching is hard. Let me stress that again, teaching is hard.

Much like photography or cooking, individuals can convince themselves that they are just as competent as the experts, without any real credentials to back this up. Just because you pick up a book with your child, does not make you a successful teacher. The methods of teaching, the science of learning, is an important training for teachers for a reason. These skills do not just come naturally to most individuals. This is not to say that I believe parents should take a passive role in their children’s education; just the opposite.

I believe the gaps that have been highlighted by our educational crisis as a country, convey an even greater need by parents to fill those gaps. Whatever bonding you did with your infants during tummy time, or feeding her, or reading him a bed time story, the school-age equivalent is ensuring that your child gains the most potential out of his or her education. Whether that is participating in the PTA and being actively engaged in what assignments are due in class, or offering tutoring help when needed, the person most responsible for the educational system is the parent.

Public Schools

I just wanted to say one last thing about the public school system. The vast majority of my friends, my siblings, my husband, and I are all products of the public school system. We have all gone on to college and professional jobs, for the most part. And we are emotionally stable adults with long-term, strong relationships, both in our immediate families and with our friends. The fear among communities that public school systems are somehow deleterious and dangerous is just that: fear. I’m sure there was alcohol and drugs in school, and definitely bullying. Maybe there were weapons smuggled in that I am not aware of now as an adult or then as a student. But again, the over-riding element in our school was not fear or danger. Sure, there was plenty of stress, but mostly it was an academic institution where you get out of it what you put into it. School is hard, in any setting, but it makes you stronger and more capable of handling life after school, which is so much more complicated than courses and social circles and extracurricular activities. And for those of my acquaintance, the public school system trained us more than adequately for what college, and life beyond, had to ask of us.

With all of that said, I am humbled by the depth of interest that many parents take in the education of their children. The very fact that these heated debates occur shows the passion that parents feel regarding their educational choice. Whichever choice that parents select, the very fact that they are concerned and advocate their choice, shows the kind of investment and interest that will ensure that they will be actively engaged in their child’s education. And as Martha would say, this is a good thing.

Happiest Place on Earth

A friend of mine asked for some thoughts on going to Disney World with her 3 and 6 year old daughters (their first time visiting the park). I thought I would post it here in case anyone else was interested in our thoughts (and my response because a bit too wordy for email!). Here goes:

We had a wonderful time at Disney over the holidays (Bob AND Charlotte's first time) and I did a ton of research before booking our trip.

We booked through Disney and applied for the Disney credit card. Disney online travel site had a wonderful promotion going on at the time and we received our 7-day meal plan for free for two adults (Charlotte was free/ineligible since she's under 3, but that's fine since she eats off my plate anyway!). If you pay for it with your Disney credit card, you also get 6 months of 0 APR, which wasn't a huge deal for us, but it's still nice (I guess 6 months of the full amount in our savings account would earn us something like $28 if that ;).

We stayed on the resort (Animal Kingdom Lodge) and I would strongly recommend staying on the resort. You have to pay for parking every day if you stay off-resort ($14/day - possibly each time if you leave the resort) and the resort is HUGE so you would end up having to drive 30 minutes from your hotel to each park. The on-resort hotels have shuttle buses that run all the time, plus (big perk), they allow guests staying in the resorts to have extra hours at each park. The extra morning hours are really nice because you can beat the crowds getting in the park and bypass some of the longer lines (we rode "it's a small world" twice back-to-back with no lines).

I would highly recommend Animal Kingdom Lodge if your girls are into animals. It's a really beautiful hotel overall, but being able to see giraffes and zebras and other animals outside your balcony? Priceless. But if you're going to spend most of your time at Magic Kingdom (which you might do since they're 3 and 6, although you might also really like Hollywood Studios), you can also stay at the Contemporary (?) that has a monorail that runs straight to Magic Kingdom. If you go for the deluxe level hotels, get the concierge club. We did at Animal Kingdom and it was totally worth it. They have snacks (and coffee!!) and drinks all day from 6:30am - 10pm and it was a lifesaver between meals if she wanted milk to drink or we needed coffee. It's also a separate lounge with comfy seats and tvs and tables and a nice place to chill before dinner, and we weren't stuck in our rooms when we weren't at the parks.

I don't think the park hopper or the no expiration dates were worth it. We had no problem just doing one park per day (but we did get the 7-day pass, so we had ample time to do every park twice except one). But since your girls are older, you might want the park hopper. I just didn't think it was worth it - there's plenty to see to spend one whole day (at least) at each park.

We didn't do the water parks (thank goodness!) because it was December and she's still in diapers. Turns out, it was in the 40's when we were there, so the water park would have been a real waste of time. In April though, you might really like it. I can't say one way or the other since we didn't do it. I did feel like there are plenty of water parks everywhere and I would rather spend the extra days at Disney rather than a water park.

Dining plan - this is really hard to say. On one hand, we received it for free as part of our vacation package, so it wasn't a waste of money (although we could have gotten a % off the total package and not gotten the meal plan at all and that would have saved more money I suppose). I liked that it meant less thinking and headaches with planning the trip. BUT the meal plans include an entree, a drink (non-alcoholic), and a dessert at every meal (one sit-down, one fast-food) and a snack, so three "meals" per day. I thought getting a dessert at every meal (instead of say, an appetizer or salad) got old after the first day. We're not really big dessert people, so it was just a waste. The next level up where you get three meals a day also includes an appetizer and dessert and entree, which is honestly just way, way too much food (proportion-wise, although I suppose the variety is nice and you could just taste a bit of each dish). Also, this is where the concierge club totally makes its money back - we had breakfast up there everyday and they had a wonderful spread. No protein, but oatmeal and cereal and fruit and croissants and cream cheese and pastries and an amazing coffee/espresso machine and loads of drinks. The concierge club also had: breakfast -> snacks -> afternoon tea -> wine and cheese (+hot hors devours) -> dessert and night caps (alcoholic). So next time, we will not get the dining plan but we will definitely get the concierge club.

A word about the restaurants (and another reason why we didn't like the meal plans): almost all of them require reservations. We didn't realize this and thought only the more popular ones required reservations (like the character meals - you should book these as soon as you book the vacation, you can do it up to 120 days before and they fill up very quickly). But we tried to get lunch or dinner at some places (sit-down restaurants) and they had 2 hour waits. Luckily, the concierge club was able to make us a couple of reservations, but we still had a hard time. And when your meal plan is one sit-down and one quick-serve a day, you have to use up your 7 sit-downs (they are not interchangeable with the quick-serve). However, the meal plan does allow you to use them in whatever order you want - so you can do all your quick-serve meals first, then use your sit-downs, or whatever you want. They just expire on midnight of the day you check-out of your hotel. Again, this is another argument for NOT doing the dining plan and just having the freedom to eat wherever you want at your convenience. But if you do want to dine at the sit-down restaurants, you will want to make reservations. I thought the Coral Reef restaurant at Epcot was totally worth it. They seat you next to a huge coral reef aquarium and you get to watch incredible fish and turtles and sharks while you eat (the food was fantastic as well).

Also, if you stay at the resorts, you get complimentary shuttle service roundtrip to/from the airport AND baggage service. So, check your baggage in at your home airport and it will make its way to your hotel room. Voila! And on the way back? They will check you into your flight at the hotel and check your baggage for you - just step into the shuttle with your carry-on luggage and you're done. SO worth it (at least for us with a toddler in tow). Charlotte was still napping also (she's 2 1/2), so the complimentary shuttles and being closer to our hotel was also really important to getting her home in time for naps.

Pack for warm weather, but also toss in a few things for extreme weather. We ended up spending almost $200 on three sweatshirts/jackets because the temps plummeted and I had packed for warm weather (which at the time of packing, it was predicted to be high 60's, low 70's). At least throw in a few layering pieces and a nice warm coat.

I don't know if you are still using a stroller or not, but the rentals are expensive ($15/day) and even if the girls do not need a stroller, it's kind of nice to have one to throw your things in for the day (bottles of water, camera, jackets, souvenirs you buy in the parks, etc.). I would bring a cheapie umbrella stroller that you can double as a shopping cart and that you don't mind parking in the stroller parking lots and you won't fear having it stolen. We found it to be really useful when you're walking all day long to have the stroller as an extra pair of hands (she wanted to be carried a lot and went in her stroller only occasionally).

FASTPASS – you can get tickets to really popular rides with long wait times and then come back at a later time (printed on the tickets) for the ride and have a 5-minute wait (definitely worth it if the current wait time is 2 hours). But here’s the caveat (that wasn’t made clear to me), you can only get one FASTPASS per person every two hours. So plan your trip wisely. Figure out a priority list of “must see” rides and then get a FASTPASS for the ones highest on your list with the longest wait times. A lot of rides have very little to no wait time, so you won’t need FASTPASS for those (and I’m not sure they are offered for them actually). Also, we’re on Verizon for our cellphones and they have an app that tells you what the wait times are currently for each ride at each park. This was SO helpful. I think there are apps for iPhones and Android phones too. I would definitely get it and play around with it a bit before you go.

Disney lets you make custom maps for free and they’re really nice keepsakes for after the trip. If you go on their website, you can pre-program which attractions/events you really want to do and they will mark them on these really detailed, pretty maps for you and send them to you before your trip. They’re free, so you might as well! (plus, they are much prettier than the generic park maps):

https://disneyworld.disney.go.com/wdw/myVacation/customizedMaps/index?id=CustomizedMapsFlashPage

Okay, that’s it. I know that’s a lot of information. Feel free to email me if you have any other specific questions! And have a really wonderful time – I’m sure you will :)

Many may enter, but only one may leave . . .

Okay, so parenting isn’t exactly a gladiatorial event, but some days it feels pretty close. I think it’s funny sometimes that they call it the “terrible twos” since our 26 month old has been having temper tantrums since she was 10 months old (with the full throw-down, leg kicking, fist pounding, shrieking accompaniments – fun stuff). She’s temperamental and mercurial in the best of times. One minute, she’s sunshine and song, dancing and prancing and being the funniest, most magical creature I have ever had the privilege to know. The next, she’s in full lock-down, siege mode where I am the castle and she’s the rampaging, invading forces.

It’s usually instigated over something really important, like I put a cap on a bottle for the 3rd time without asking her first although she was fine with the first two times, or I sat down when I should have known that I needed to stand (all day long, for no reason), or I wouldn’t lift her for the 10th time with her wrapped around my standing leg (try doing dead lifts of 30 pounds on one leg while standing on the other leg and not holding on to anything – seriously, try. I double dare you), or I wouldn’t give her a sip of my wine (which I now needed because of the aforementioned episodes).

And forget “choose your battles,” every single little thing with her is a battle. Whether or not we change her overly wet diaper (for some reason she’s very attached to keeping that used diaper on – or more likely, she just doesn’t want to bend to our will), whether she has anything decent to eat for dinner that isn’t another piece of chocolate, whether she has to wear clothes rather than run around naked, whether she gets to play with our electronics (remote controls, phones, computers, cameras, etc. – and yes, she perfectly well knows the difference between the real thing vs. toys vs. ones that no longer work), everything is a confrontation between her agenda and ours. In trying to get her to explore a tree house at the Arboretum last weekend, I told her explicitly that she could NOT go in the tree house and I swear, five seconds later, she was running towards that thing with full determination (luckily, she is still too young to fully grasp reverse psychology, sarcasm, or irony – the latter two of which keep me sane).

I think what astounds me is how these personality quirks are genetic rather than environmental, because she is basically the worse parts of my husband and myself. She gets her grumpiness and quick temper and quick boredom from him, her stubbornness and impatience and opinionated, fussiness from me, and she’s only two years old! While I know we will be grateful that she’s such a –strong– personality later in life, it’s difficult to envision such a future on those days when you feel defeated by your toddler and it’s only 7:05 in the morning.

This probably makes me a bad parent, although I think this just makes me an honest parent, but there are days when I despair. Sometimes I feel like all we do is argue and wrestle (literally and figuratively) and compromise grudgingly, but somehow in such a way that neither of us really wins. Despite the fact that I would never, ever lay a finger on her and have never done so, there are times when I just want to wring her tiny, beautiful neck or scream in bloody frustration. But of course, we do none of these things. We may scream and fling our limbs in sheer fury and exasperation on the inside, but on the outside, it’s business as usual: setting the rules and explaining the consequences and being consistent with quick judgment, time and time and time again.

Sometimes, I want to just walk away and check myself into a hotel somewhere with room service and housekeeping and a pool and basically have the ability to read a book and eat a meal in peace and quiet and sleep in past 6:30am. But as someone once so very nicely pointed out, parenting is the job without sick days or vacations or holidays. Part of what is so difficult is the relentless nature of it all. I will always care about her health and safety. It’s not like I’ll just give in the 50th time she asks to play with the scissors or not yell at her the 100th time she tries to shake off my hand and dart into a parking lot or off the sidewalk into the street. It is a war, not a battle, an unceasing war where the primary objective will never, ever end. But it is also the most important war in which anyone could ever engage. And the reward, the victory, is the mental and physical and emotional health of an individual. My individual, the one I adore.

I should mention in all fairness that we are also deeply enthralled by her and that she is enchantment and light itself. She is also funny and smart and adorable and loving and quirky and creative. No one can make me laugh or seize my heart so quickly and thoroughly like she does (excepting my husband of course). And there’s no one in the world I want to give my very best to, every moment of every day, like her. But there are days when “grin and bear it” is more than just a phrase. I imagine it’s a bit like special forces training or completing a triathalon or surviving torture. Because some days, I swear, experience in all of those with a liberal dose of child development psychology couldn’t hurt. In the meantime, we try to cherish the good moments, bear the bad ones, and know there’s a glass of wine waiting at the end of the day.

The Mean Girls

Like most women, I was neither the popular nor the outcast at school. I was fortunate enough to have a group of close friends I could be certain of and who shared interests with me. Junior high and high school were fine. Not great, I have no fantasies of ever returning, but nonetheless, no worse than a season of “Survivor.” I had hoped though that over time the “mean girls” would somehow grow up, mellow with age, and in general, have that karma-botox that somehow smoothes out their sharp edges.

Well, recently, I have been proven wrong. Two separate instances have reminded me that the “mean girls” still exist and in full force. Some are the “mean girls” of my youth (literally), all grown up. They are still catty, they are still spiteful, they still believe they own the world. And I compare them to myself and my friends who seem perfectly “normal” and nice to me and I see very little differences in the circumstances of our current lives. No significant differences in income or neighborhood or access to the luxuries of middle-class parenting. But their sense of entitlement continues to wrap them in a safe cocoon of superiority. I wonder if this is what it’s like to be born into nobility – to know from birth that you are somehow better, brighter, prettier, stronger; or at least to be raised with these beliefs.

What baffles me though is when I encounter the new breed of “mean girls,” the ones I have only met recently as an adult. Maybe they were someone else’s mean girl in school and it is only that they are out of context for me that I am baffled by them. I compare them to my circle of friends and again, I fail to notice any differences in attractiveness or intelligence or education or income or neighborhood. If anything, they seem to fare worse than those women that I am closest to both locally and from afar. Is it then a symptom of insecurity? Is it the slight failure to keep up the the Jones’ that inspire such cattiness from otherwise lovely women who are grouped together to support one another? Are cliques, although perfectly natural and understandable, a necessity of all social interactions? But it’s not the cliquey nature of the interactions, but the seeming superiority of a particular group within the group that continues to baffle me.

Perhaps this is the result of observation and that to some other person, I was a “mean girl” once. If this is the case, my sincere, humble apologies. But somehow I doubt my book wormish, music loving, poor dancing, cultural embracing self would ever be cool enough to be a “mean girl.” And I can only hope my daughter will follow these every so nerdy footsteps. Good friends are the bunkers we have in this battlefield of female interaction. May her friends be as true and steadfast as mine.