Interior Designs.

I have already established that the six year old is not an ideal babysitter.
Five Year Old Sitter.
She's a year older now. A year wiser. A year more responsible. Or not.

The baby is teething. It means disturbed nights. I'm not sure if I've explained to you the extent of the love affair I have with my bed. I am the Tiger Woods of sleep.
I would spend my weekends there if it was an option.
I have two children - so, of course, it's not an option.

For me - sleep deprivation has been my biggest parenting nemesis. I do not like my sleep disturbed, I do not like to sleep less than seven hours. I do not like it Sam I am.

Last night was a particularly hard night. I was up with the baby for several hours.
When the six year old woke - I was just getting back to sleep.
I asked her to go play in her room for a while. As I drifted back off to sleep I heard her talking to the baby. I remember thinking through the haze of falling asleep - did she get the baby out of her crib?

Forty five minutes later I wake with a start. Where is the baby?
I run downstairs. There in the living room are my two girls playing.
Relieved I head into the kitchen to make breakfast.

It's a full hour before I see the couch.
It used to be champagne suede. It now has a swirly design. In red marker pen.
Groan.
I know that this is my fault. I know I can't blame the baby or the six year old.
(Although I might for a few minutes.)

It's actually quite pretty. It matches the design which has coincidentally appeared on the baby's pajamas. After a major caffeine injection and some Googling for stain removal tips I begin the damage repair.

High price for a 45 minute nap.

Cake Walk.

In my never ending quest to create holiday traditions that do not cost a fortune or involve materialism - the six year old and I, make a Christmas cake.

Now I know Christmas cakes have a bad reputation here in the US but to me they are a bite of nostalgia. One mouthful instantly transports me to my Granny's kitchen.
I am not a fan of mixed peel, glace cherries or whole nuts in a cake. Neither was my Granny. Her cake was fruity, sweet and topped with delicious icing.

For years now, I have tried to re-create it. Some years I do better than others.
The six year old loves to ice the cake. Placing two plastic trees, a deer and Santa on the cake make her giddy.

Yesterday we began the four hour process. The six year old reverently dragged her stool into the kitchen and donned her apron. We measured and mixed. Sprayed flour, sugar and egg shell around the kitchen and finally spread the mixture into the pan.

I knew right away that it didn't look right. It just wasn't 'cakey' enough.
We baked it anyway.
So if you like a trip to the dentist as part of your cake eating experience - it was perfect. I'm going to submit it to CakeWrecks.

The six year old had gone to bed and I couldn't stomach her disappointment so I went to the store at 10pm to buy the ingredients for cake number two.
It's in the oven now. It looked a lot better going in. I'm optimistic.

I think we will have a beautiful cake to ice. I think the plastic trees will make a gorgeous winter scene. I think it will have cost close to $100.
Thinking back to my original goal - I may have failed.

Ooops!

Why are my bad parenting moments always in front of an audience?

This week was The Evergreen Spiral at the six year old's school.
It's a truly beautiful event. The children walk through the spiral, light their candle then place it on a log on their way back through the spiral.
There is some beautiful music playing and the mood is 'quiet reverence.'

This in itself is a Christmas Miracle. There are fifty, six to eight year olds. It takes an hour for them all to walk the spiral. It is a truly beautiful moment in the rush and hustle of the holidays.

Of course we all want to see our children walk, so the hall is also filled with parents and siblings.
I debated having a sitter for the baby but I wanted her to be a part of it so I decided to take her. She was being a trooper - very quiet, if a little fidgety. After half an hour she is no longer content in our laps. We head to the back of the hall so she can walk around. There are some steps up to the stage. Perfect! She LOVES steps. We ascend and descend waiting for the six year old to take her turn in the spiral.

With one child to go - the baby makes a misstep. She falls off the stage and disappears underneath in a pile of poinsettias. There is that silence before the scream - I wrench my back trying to grab her out of there before the cry.

The entire half of the hall near us is gasping, staring and is turned around in our direction. In my head all I can hear is quiet reverence, quiet reverence.

We make it out of the hall just as the howl is emitted. I am so torn. I'm checking the baby for injury but in my mind I know the six year old is stepping forward for her candle.

Why? We have been there half an hour - why does the fall happen just at THAT moment?
We calm the baby, she seems uninjured, we insert a pacifier and scurry back in.

I am tearful when I see that another child has gone and the six year old is still in her seat.

We didn't miss it. The six year old steps up. She carries her candle with six year old reverence and after lighting it - sets it carefully on a log. Then in a nod to her inner pageant queen - takes her dress in both hands and holds it out to the sides. She then does something that can only be described as sashay back to her seat. That's my girl!

I am still getting emails and calls asking if it's true that my baby fell of the stage at The Spiral. At least everyone in school knows who we are now.
There is no such thing as bad publicity right?

The Ultimate Gift.

Becoming a parent is something that when you want it - is all consuming.
For some it comes easily, for others it's a journey.

My dear friends Michael and Mo are on that journey.
They are hoping to add a child to their family through open adoption.

My own struggles with fertility make me want to do what I can to support their journey.
They were an integral part of my village when the (now) six year old was born. They stepped in for our families abroad. They were the first people to babysit for us when we crawled back into the real world when the six year old was six weeks old.

If you know someone who may be considering placing their child for adoption, please offer them this information:

Email: MichaelandMo@gmail.com
Toll Free #: 1.877.742.7314
Website: MichaelandMo.com

Or they can be contacted through this agency:
Independent Adoption Center.
1.800.877.OPEN (6736)
www.adoptionhelp.org/birthmother

Obviously, I'm biased but any baby would be blessed to join this family.

Thank you!

Santa Baby.

We finally got our pics taken with the Big Guy in Red.
It was a 50:50 affair.

The six year old ran into his arms. They snuggled, sang songs, discussed how much she was growing, how much she loved her gifts from last year and of course her wish list for this year.

When I say list - I really do mean list. My girl is a material girl. She LOVES things. I spend a lot of time thinking about this. Is it my doing? When I was a child, money was an issue. Christmas was always abundant though. I waited all year for toys. Maybe I've set up this expectation in my kid even although she has abundance year long.
Who am I kidding? Let's take the maybe out of that sentence.

So in classic parenting hypocrisy I am now lecturing about how we only ask Santa for three things. Most of my friends draw the line at one. I have a way to go...

The baby is unsure as soon as she sees Santa. She hides behind the husbands legs, clinging.
We try and work up to it. Eventually she is standing next to him holding my hand. I, of course, want the photo op. I warn the photographer and pop the baby on Santa's knees. I'm sure they heard the screams in the North Pole.
We now have the classic pic but a miserable child.

Santa's Elf (seriously - not a desirable job) saves the day.
She hands the girls a candy cane. The furious tears dry up instantly. Hmmm - maybe not so upset after all.

I take a moment to snuggle with Santa myself. He remembers me from when I was a girl.
Which makes the six year old's eyes wide with wonder.
One more golden moment for the list.

We exit smiling. The baby even waves goodbye to Santa.
Mission accomplished.

Best Laid Plans.

As I may have mentioned before - I'm frugal.
So when I saw that the local mall was offering free Santa photos I knew that we would not be going to the other mall with highly overpriced pics with the man in red.

It tickled me to think we would be denying that particular Santa our glorious presence this year, as last year he told me off in front of the six year old for snapping a pic on my cell phone.
It took all my restraint not to start a lecture about the spirit of Christmas and what Santa is supposed to symbolize.

So, I dress the baby in her new dress - OMG sooo cute. (Sorry, Cali girl took over there for a moment.) I then carefully packed a coordinating outfit for the six year old who was at school.

We set off to pick up the six year old and informed her of our mission. Much excitement ensued as we slipped into the bathroom to change.

Now I may not know everything there is to know about parenting but I have been around the block a few times.
I spent time preparing the six year old for the possibility that Santa might be off feeding his reindeer (taking a break) or have left for his workshop for the day.

She solemnly tells me that she understands and knows that if he's not there we'll go back and see him later.

Guess what - he's not there. He's supposed to be there - it's advertised that he will be but he's not.
So there we stand, me chewing my lip at the sight of my two sweet girls all dressed up looking at a big empty chair.
"Oh my goodness" I say "I bet Santa has gone to make your American Girl Doll Bed."

The six year old perks up at this idea and I quickly throw in the idea of hot chocolate to complete the diversion.
So we're sitting in the cafe, complete with yummy hot chocolate AND a sugar cookie chatting away about our day and I'm feeling pretty good about the way things worked out when the six year old says,
"Mummy can I tell you something?"
"Yes love..."
"It's just that I'm so disappointed about Santa."
Her face crumples and I feel that hot pain in my chest that is motherhood.

I have two choices. The other mall with capitalist Santa is ten minutes away or there's a toy shop next door. Either way my wallet will be taking the hit.
What's a mom to do?
We have a rule - we don't buy toys when Santa is coming.
I also have principals - Santa should be not for profit.

I am going to leave it up to you to guess whether I dropped my principals or my dollars....



To those who are celebrating Hanukkah today - I wish a wonderful time for you and yours.

Seasons.

Tis the Season - for another Guest Blogger!
Thank you to Carolyn for this very amusing contribution.
It's always good to know that I'm not the only mother who LOVES the school year.
I think she may have a million dollar business idea with her unique take on an Advent Calendar.
Enjoy.........


Where I grew up in New Jersey, spring was heralded by crocuses poking through the last snowfall. Raising my kids in California, visual cues from nature don’t change much seasonally, and springtime just means a last chance to mend our tardy ways and get to school on time. Tip: keeping essentials like shoes, coats, medication, etc. in the car at all times helps reduce the need to double back home.

Summer and the living is easier. Frequent trips to the pool assure that the kids are regularly cleaned. Popcorn and watermelon is a valid dinner option. Schedules are packed with swimming, bike riding, camp, etc. At least that’s the deal on the first day of summer vacation, before the kids realize that just hanging out a home is a possibility. That’s when I start making a back-to-school advent calendar for myself.

I actually took the kids to the park this past fall to throw a football around – such a picturesque family scene! But around our house, fall days are mostly about trying to break the bad sleep/wake/tv habits of summer. For the kids too. On the fridge is a photo of the saddest looking children on the first day of school (the camera didn’t capture the relieved and giddy photographer).

Winter. That’s when my kids learn to pronounce Hammacher Schlemmer, and try to avoid clumsy hair trims before school holiday performances, because there’s no time to fit in a trip to the barber. My son knows when I say his bangs are looking like Eddie Munster’s that he should hide the scissors and run.

And though I always manage to take a holiday photo of all of us, and sometimes even buy holiday cards to accompany the photo, I never get to sending most of them.
With my good intentions in mind - I wish you peace in the coming year (a fight-free car trip with the kids totally counts).

Oh Christmas Tree!

What is it about magical moments? They are often when we are not the great parents we aim to be.

I remember our first trip to Disneyland. It's supposed to be the happiest place on earth but I saw more kids getting shouted at there than I have ever seen anywhere else before. Too many hot, tired parents trying to keep track of their child in a sea of kids.

Bedtime - I want it to be a snuggly, peaceful time. I want to read a great book with my girls and have them drift off into a peaceful sleep.
More often the scenario involves me getting irritated at the amount of times I have to tell the six year old to get into her PJ's, clean her teeth or put her clothes away.
By the time we get to the story I'm frazzled and she's fed up.

So this weekend we went to get our Christmas Tree. A magical moment guaranteed. I never had real trees as a kid. We had a very spindly silver tinsel one for years. We upgraded to a flashy plastic one when I was about eight. It was top of the range at the time but was made of hard plastic and some of the 'needles' melted onto the lights.
Can we say fire hazard?

A real tree seems luxurious to me. It smells soooo good. It's just so Christmassy.
Going to the lot fills me with holiday cheer. They are just such festive places.
We actually do a tour. One with Santa and popcorn but pricey trees. One that has every type of tree there is - including flocked. I will admit that we are here simply to take pictures.
Then we head to the bargain lot - well it is in my culture to be frugal.

This is where the trouble starts. The baby doesn't seem to like it.
Maybe she feels lost in the woods. Maybe she's not the frugal type. She does only come up to the bottom boughs of most trees. She only wants to be in Daddy's arms.

The six year old has strong opinions this year. She wants an eight foot tree - at a minimum. Explaining tree to ceiling height ratios to an excited six year old doesn't necessarily yield understanding.

The husband tries his "let's get a cute little tree this year" speech. He tries this every year. It falls on three sets of deaf ears. OK maybe the baby would be happy with a small tree but I'm claiming her for my team.

I find my perfect tree. The six year old thinks it's too small. The baby thinks she'd like to go home and the husband would happily join her.
Where is the magic? Where is the fun family moment picking our perfect tree?

I saw us running around the lot, playing hide and seek between the trees. All agreeing on our perfect tree then singing carols all the way home.

Instead with the tree (six year olds choice of course) on top of the car the kids are now cold and cranky.
Determined - we make a stop for milkshakes. Bound to cheer everyone up.
Works perfectly for the six year old. The baby however just pours hers all over herself. Sigh.

Once the tree is up, lit and decorated. We are all returned to happy. We put on some festive music and sing along. I'll take this as the golden moment.
Now for bedtime.....

Nutcracker.

You know you're a mom when you are seated in an darkened auditorium waiting for a performance to start at 9.15 in the morning. More so if the auditorium is filled with fidgeting, giggling children who could not stay still or quiet if Santa's appearance depended on it.

I am a chaperone for the six year old's class trip to see The Nutcracker.
They are excited.
They have ridden on the school bus to get here - a fabulous adventure in itself.
The lights dim and the music starts. The wonder begins.

The 20 or so rows in front of us are occupied by pre-schoolers who are now asking, almost in unison,
"What is happening?"
"Why did they turn the lights out?"
"When does it start?"

It starts now. There is a collective gasp as the curtains swish back and the cast enters.
There's a real dog!
The dog causes several minutes of conversation as to whether or not it is actually a real dog. What will happen if it pees on the stage and who it belongs to.
I chew my tongue.

For the next 30 minutes the children are rapt. It is bright, exciting, colorful.
There are mice, soldiers, a magician and girls in pretty dresses. Something for everyone.

Just as the squirming becomes intense - intermission arrives.
"Do you like it?" I ask one of the boys sitting next to me.
"Yes!" he says "But there's too much dancing."
"It's a ballet" I say.
"Yes - with too much dancing."
Hmmmm.

We begin the bathroom trips. Taking 14 children to a three cubicle bathroom reminds me of shopping in the holiday sales. It is chaotic but we all manage to 'go' and get back in our seats before the curtain lifts again.

Now is the part the six year old has been waiting for - the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. She enters - this time the gasp is from all the girls. She is gorgeous. A vision of tulle and sparkles. Her partner enters to do the lifts. He looks to be about sixteen. He is wearing white ballet tights.

"MUM! I can see his penis!"
I would like to tell you this was whispered but we all know it wasn't.
She's right - you can see it. In great detail.
The little boys in the row behind are discussing it to.
"That's his penis right there."
"I know."
"I think they have padding."

I think so too.

By this point there is not an adult in the vicinity who is not bent over trying not to laugh out loud. Our shoulders are heaving as we try to control our giggles.
Thankfully the woman with lots children hidden under her skirt enters the stage giving us all a reason to laugh out loud.

Finally the show ends and we exit into broad daylight. It is 11.15am. I need coffee.
The children board the bus and are gone.
I wonder which part of the show they will be discussing on the way back to school....

Mirroring.

Over six years of parenting I have learned that it's not so much what I say but what I do that counts. Darn.
That makes the whole tricky journey trickier - to say the least.

My girls are watching everything I do. The baby wants to copy everything. Note to self - must stop removing my wedgie in public.
Luckily she's still young enough that she can't repeat my verbal transgressions. No such luck with the six year old.

The husband and I have made the classic slip ups. It's easy to blurt out a less than sociable word when someone cuts you off in traffic. The fact that the kids are not in your direct view makes you forget they are back there. oh dear.

Luckily the six year old is very motivated by rewards so I managed to convince her not to repeat my 'bad choice' word. So far so good.
Not so with my actions.

Yesterday the six year old had a friend over. It was getting near to the time for her friend to leave so I asked them to pick up the room. The friend did some professional level stalling. The six year old got frustrated. I could hear the edge in her voice so I went to intervene.
I arrive at the door to see the six year old in a bold stance, her finger is pointed firmly at her friend as she says,
"PICK IT UP. What is it that YOU. DON'T. UNDERSTAND?"
As she says this the hips sway, the finger wags and she leans in closer to get her finger closer to her friends face.

Yikes. I see myself in that manoeuvre.
Of course I don't want her to talk to her friends that way so we have a chat about friendly words. I feel like a complete hypocrite.
Since it's my actions that seem to count I am planning a Martha Stewart/Julie Andrews scenario for dinner. Frilly apron, a sweet smile, an encouraging song and maybe even cupcakes.

Getaway.

Did you miss me?
We had a last minute opportunity to go away. We took it.
'Going away" is an interesting term.
In my mind it implies a change. Something different.
With kids you just transfer your mountainous workload to a different venue.
Oh but what a venue it was!

Sweet friends offered us the spare room in their holiday rental.
The 'spare room' came with the most gorgeous views of hills and vineyards.
It also came with an endless pool, a hot tub, a brick fire pit, an outdoor eating area with heaters, a bocce ball court - I could go on.

It was heaven. Tranquil (aside from two toddlers, a six year old and a dog) and the perfect antidote to holiday melancholy.
We were however happy to have holiday leftovers!

The girls have never shared a room before but I'd been thinking it might be time to move the baby in with the six year old so this was the perfect trial.
We took them up to bed at the same time. The husband thought this would mean they would never got to sleep. I was so smug when they were both asleep within 10 minutes.

It all went beautifully until 11pm. The six year old woke up looking for water.
She woke the baby. For the next two hours while we (tried) to play boardgames downstairs, my girls played their own games upstairs.
Every so often we would hear squeals of laughter. The husband and I played good cop, bad cop - to no avail.

Eventually I went to bed so they would. They did.
The upside was they didn't wake up until 8.30am.

Watching my girls run carefree in such a glorious setting was so lovely.
Is there anything better than watching your kids have the time of their lives?

When we got home the six year old wanted to write her letter to Santa.
You will not be surprised to hear it now includes a pool and a puppy.
I'm off to get a lottery ticket.....

Giving Thanks.

As a foreigner in the USA - I always feel Thanksgiving is not my holiday.
I don't have that deep emotional attachment you likely have if it has been your tradition since childhood.
I do however LOVE this holiday.

The concept of getting together with friends and family to be thankful, is simply - lovely. Gathering around food is always a comfort for me.

So today, I will use this space to say what I am thankful for.

I am thankful for this blog. A place for me to go when parenting leaves me helpless with laughter, over-whelmed with love, spitting with frustration, tearful from exhaustion or feeling cut off from every day adult life.

I am thankful for you lovely readers. Your comments brighten my day.
The ascending hit counter makes me feel productive.

I am thankful for the community I have here.
I feel connected and supported.

I am thankful for my two beautiful girls who give me endless copy!

I am thankful for my trusty laptop.

I am thankful for my husband and our abundance.

I am thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours and if is this is not your holiday either - wishing you a wonderful Thursday!

Go ahead and tell me what you are thankful for....

The Jacket.

The baby is into fashion. This comes as a huge surprise to me. I subscribe to the over busy mommy - ponytail, t-shirt and jeans style. She certainly doesn't get it from me.

She goes off to the bathroom gets a headband - she has no hair so this is particularly cute. Puts a handbag on her wrist, puts on her shoes (by herself - child genius) then comes to find me.
She then takes me to the front door and says "Go!"
It's very cute.
She even mixes it up by choosing different headbands or shoes.
Then there's the jacket.

We got the jacket in Canada. Actually Grandad got it for her Christmas but it was chilly so we got it out.
It's a cozy jacket. We live in California - my thought was we would use it for the rare cold days and when we go to the snow.
The baby has other ideas. She won't take it off.

She has napped in it. Eaten in it. She even tried to wear it in the bath - but I drew the line. That caused the classic tantrum which I really wish I could have filmed.
She lay down on the ground and thrashed her arms and legs. Then she stopped abruptly and looked up. Satisfied that I was indeed watching she resumed her 'tantrum.' Hilarious.
She particularly likes to wear it with nothing else on. A delight she discovered post bath. No need to point out to me that I gave in. She didn't wear it IN the bath - that was my victory....

Yesterday a new jacket came in the mail. Grandma sent it.
We have jacket confusion. The baby opened her parcel and squealed with delight. She put her new jacket on and paraded around. Then she stopped. She went to the hall and retrieved first jacket. She brought it into the living room. She put it on a chair and looked at it. She looked at me. What now?

She wasn't ready to take off her new prize possession but first jacket clearly still held great appeal. In the end she wore new jacket and dragged first jacket behind her, hugging it at various intervals.
If only we'd known this about her before she was born we wouldn't have bothered with teddy bears, blankets and the multitude of other snuggly things we have.
As it turns out a jacket can substitute for all these things - who knew?

Babysitter, Part Two.

Babysitting did not go so well. I guess that's all a matter of perspective. The babysitter is great. She plays piano and at bedtime serenades the six year old with a lullaby. We have an open plan house so the six year old gets into bed and the piano music drifts up to her. Lovely.

The baby was already asleep before the sitter arrived so she may have missed the concert.
She did however wake for a private recital. At 9pm.
She was still up at 11.30pm. It was at this point the sitter called me.
Sigh. I drove my gussied up, disappointed self home.

"Mama!" says a delighted little voice running down the hall to greet me.
It is now 12.15pm (I was a 40 minute drive away) and the baby looks bright eyed and bushy tailed.
The babysitter looks exhausted.
They have read books, played guitar, sang songs, danced and played. The babysitter dutifully tried to have her return to bed every 15 minutes but hey the baby's no fool.
She knows where the fun is.

I give her a bottle of milk and she's was asleep within 10 minutes of me getting home.
I paid the sitter extra for her trouble and she went home.
The husband stayed at the event so there I am over dressed, wearing make up (a rare occurrence) sitting on the couch alone with a cup of tea.
I try to picture it as a Cosmo but it's a futile endeavour.

I am disgruntled. I put my kids first most of the time and most of the time that's fine. Tonight was something I have been looking forward to for a while. I was there for two hours. The babysitter is happy to get extra cash. The six year old loves having her here. The baby had the time of her life and the husband gets to stay at the party. It's just little ole me who got the short end of the stick.

There was an upside. The baby slept until 8.30am. That's a gift that almost makes up for missing the fun. Almost.
I see a spa day in my future......

Babysitter.

One of the interesting things about parenting is the introduction of babysitters into your life.
I live half a world away from my nearest blood relative so babysitting usually involves a relative stranger (no pun intended.)

I spend most of my life consumed with the safety and well being of my babies but when I need/want to go out, I transfer their care to someone I barely know. I have a few sitters we've used for years but more often we get a year out of a sitter before they leave for college, get a job, move away etc. At least that's what they tell us...

We do try to use a sitter who has been tried and tested by friends. We do a basic interview. We try to have the kids meet her first so they can give their impressions.
Even with all this done - I leave the house thinking "What do I really know about this person?"

I believe in the law of attraction so I believe that if I believe in the good - good will happen. This has been working but it's still odd.

Despite specific instructions not to; babysitters have allowed my kids to watch TV, drink soda, stay up late, have ice cream or candy, use nail polish - I could go on.
You might be thinking I'm Amish. I'm not - it's just that we don't do these things at bedtime.

Some of my friends think I'm too Dickensian about it all.
"That's the joy of getting a babysitter - you break the rules."
I just don't see it that way. My kids are still little.
What is with the incessant rush to tweenage?
I just don't think my four year old needed to stay up late and have a sugar party.
(OK that was two years ago - I'm possibly not over it...)

Then there are the babysitters who downloaded stuff onto our computer. Had 'guests' over. Ate the entire contents of our fridge and left their dirty dishes. Not even in the sink, mind you. On the coffee table!
Those who were so soundly asleep we had to shake them awake. Those who sat in the dark because they couldn't find the light switch?!
Those who sat in the cold because they couldn't find the thermostat. Really? It's right there in the hall.
Those who don't show up. Aaaargh.
No wonder our social life is minimal.

We have had great experiences too but it just seems such a lottery. The wild part about it is that no matter how it goes - you still have to hand over an extra-ordinary amount of cash.
"Thank you for giving my kid a sugar high so that she didn't go to sleep until 11pm and will be hideously cranky all day tomorrow - here's $75."

We have a sitter tonight - I'll let you know how it goes.

Tea-asco.

Today I poured my entire 12oz cup of tea all over the interior of the six year old's school bus.
I didn't mean to - it happened when I set it down to help her with her seat belt.

I started to tear off my fleece to mop it up and then remembered that I didn't have anything else, besides a bra, underneath. (Long story.)

The husband's favorite sweatshirt was in his car (which I was driving) so it had to be the mop.

Let me re-cap. Irritated bus driver, embarrassed six year old, irritated husband and inappropriately dressed, tea-less mom. All before 7.35am.

Serenity now, Serenity now. Serenity now.

I tried to improve my parent rating by taking the baby to Jumping Jacks. You know the kind of thing. Community center hall filled with balls, slides, trikes etc.
She was unimpressed. Being the second kid she hasn't done a whole lot of this kind of thing and I swear her face wore a "Why are we here?" expression.

I honestly think she would rather have been at home cleaning her teeth. Yes, I said cleaning her teeth. It's an obsession.
Or
Trying to get a pen to draw with. We don't draw so much as reject the fabulous array of crayons, colored pencils and markers in favor of trying to get a ball point pen from mummy's desk.

Why not let her have the pen you say?
I'll tell you why - because drawing also involves ignoring any paper, pad or coloring book on offer, in favor of walls, clothes and furniture.

Maybe I'll 'accidentally' drop a ball point pen on the floor at Jumping Jacks next time and see how that goes...

p.s. If you like the Keep Calm and Carry on logo - go here:
http://www.etsy.com/shop/sfgirlbybay

The Birds and Bees.

Last night I went to a lecture about introducing this hot topic to our kids.
Ugh. Do I really have to?
She's six.

The speaker was really great, covered the topic from every angle and answered some really difficult questions. I know you're going to have questions too.
Here's the main things I learned:

We need to stop calling 'it' her hoo hoo.

Six may be too early, a little late or right on time depending on your kid's curiosity levels, how much supervision you have of them and how much media they are exposed to.

Leaving a book on the topic in their room is not going to cut it. (Darn.)

It's not that I'm uncomfortable with the topic. What's not to love about talking about sex with a six year old?

What bothers me is what a knife edge the topic is.
You want to be honest and accurate but not tell too much too soon.
You want to stress privacy without creating shame.
You want to bring up the topic of safety but not burden with fear.

You also need to be ready to go from discussing sex to playing Candyland in a five minute time frame.

Yet again, I find myself wishing for a time warp where I can go to college, get a Bachelors in Parenting and reappear in my kids life as if I've never been away.

Now I just need to get her to not share her wealth of knowledge on the playground....

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like.....

First of all - I have heard from a few of you that the comments function is not working.
Blogger has been trying to fix it. I hope it works today!
If not - feel free to email me. My email is in the right hand column.
Now to business....

The Christmas tingle has started. Personally, I have a rule - no Christmas until December 1st. The stores did not get my memo. The supermarkets did not get my memo either.
The Christmas music is playing, the shops have trees in their windows and are full of Christmas food and decorations. I find it too much and I celebrate Christmas.

The Six year old however, LOVES it. She is on the third draft of her letter to Santa.
We have had to establish some guidelines.
Rule one: You may ask Santa for no more than three things.
Rule two: They need to be small enough to fit in his sleigh IE: no ponies.
Rule three: Writing three things in one sentence counts as three things not one.

We are trying to have a philosophy of less is more. Less commercialism, more tradition.
It's a lovely idea. The odds are stacked against me.
Even the postman is in on it. Yesterday he brought an American Girl catalogue.
Have you seen one? I'm a grown woman and I want at least twenty things in it.

Felicity Merriman may have the biggest stack of presents under the tree this year.
(Have boys? Go Google it and come back.)
You can choose everything for her from jewelry to furniture.

When I was a kid - there were no big toy stores. There was the toy department in big stores. We went there and looked in awe and wonder at the shelves. There was one type of train, one type of dolls house, one bear etc - you chose from that selection.
Now our children go to warehouses were dolls alone can have up to six aisles.
No wonder their wish lists are ten feet long - who wouldn't want it all?

Since they are barraged by images of all the wondrous toys and games there are from six weeks before the big day, how can we blame them for their enormous wants.
Couple that with the desire to see their delighted faces as they open their gifts, perhaps the wish to give what we ourselves didn't get - it's a very slippery slope.

For now I am resolutely standing firm at the top of that slope - but it is only November. Sigh.

I will continue with hand making some gifts. I will continue to talk to her about needs versus want, about abundance and limits.
I will also take her to the mall to sit on Santa's knee and help her mail her letter to the North Pole BUT not until December 1st.

Rock On.

So I think we can all agree that parenting is a non stop freight train of crazy situations. My oldest child is six so I've been doing this for a while. I was feeling like I had seen and done most things related to raising a little one. Until today.

The Baby and I had run through our list of things to do in the house - read books, played with farm and blocks, had a bath, had some lunch (well thrown it around our clothes and the floor) and tried on every pair of shoes - including Daddy's.
The Baby was showing signs of boredom. You know those signs - baby runs to the front door and says "bye bye" over and over. Subtle I know, but I'm not so sleep deprived that I didn't get it after 15 minutes.

Problem is it wasn't time for us to go - we had a half hour to fill.
So, I decided to turn on some music so we could dance.
We have this nifty thing on our cable called Toddler Tunes. It's actually really odd - it has lots of obscure (unheard of) artists singing tuneless songs about distinctly un-childlike things BUT it's easy so I turned it on - motherhood sometimes makes me lazy.

The tune that was playing was by a group called Rock Babies. It was an instrumental version of U2's 'I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.'
Take a moment to absorb that.

Firstly, why? The kids are sick of the ABC song and are demanding more complex musicality?

Secondly, what exactly is the baby looking for? Her favorite toy? A snack?
A parent who takes the time to put on a CD rather than cable music?

Maybe it's just me but it cracked me up. I love U2 and this was the worst thing I've ever heard done to a song - including elevator 'muzak.'

Thought I'd share.

Skin Deep.

I need thicker skin. Do you think they'll be selling it on Amazon this Christmas?

I'm finding that being a parent requires rhino skin.
I used to think park politics were tricky. Now I'm dealing with the Six year old's volatile emotions, the Baby's tantrums and the hurt feelings of friends on play dates and at school. Couple that with a little monthly phenomenon we won't detail but will simply call 'Aunt Flo' and I am feeling emotionaly worn out. It feels like I need to be a psychologist. Here's the thing - I'm not a psychologist. I'm a mom.

I would like to give myself credit for being a thoughtful mom and I do have significant training and experience in psychology. However, in the face of the current barrage - I just want to crawl into my bed and be left alone.

It's hard to remember that when a child makes another child sad, it's not a fault.
As a good friend of mine likes to say - it's an opportunity!
We can all learn about our words and their repercussions together.
Or we can tantrum, feel bad and have a cupcake to cheer ourselves up. Not that I would ever do that. I would, of course, use each experience to learn and grow. I would remain calm. I would not take it personally and blow the whole thing out of proportion.

There just wasn't enough time between being a rebellious teenager, a single twenty something with nothing but herself on her mind, a married thirty something who wants to travel and live life to the max and becoming a parent, for me to deal with all of the emotions I unwittingly dragged with me.
I needed a two year time out to get my head sorted out in preparation for being challenged on a daily basis by children. I didn't get the memo.

So, while TV and magazines barrage me with products to keep my skin soft, pliable and younger looking - I'm looking to add big, thick, resilient layers. I wonder if I'm going to start a trend.....


On a much less self involved note. Today I would like to thank all those who serve and have served. Who give in a way I can only imagine and to their families and loved ones who support them and miss them - I am grateful.

The Principal.

Oh dear. I have been called to the principal's office. Let's face it - that's never good. I got a very nice message saying I needed to come to the Six year old's school and meet with her teacher and then the principal.

Try as hard as I may - I can't help feeling I'm in trouble.
I was the good kid in school. OK - let me be more honest about that. I was mostly good and a little bit devious - so I didn't get caught. I never saw the inside of my principal's office in six years of high school. As for grade school - I didn't even know there was a principal.

What can the Six year old have possibly done? As it turns out - not much but some feathers were ruffled and we needed to smooth them. Here's the problem - when I went to see the principal, the Baby had to come with me. In the middle of our conversation she went off to the corner. Uh oh - that can only mean one thing. Maybe not, I thought optimistically. Maybe she just saw something of interest there. Then there was the tell-tale red face and watering eyes. Yup - she was 'processing.'

We were deep in conversation so I didn't want to stop. This man's time is valuable and I may not get a chance to speak with him again for several days.
Then the odor hit my nose. It was a showstopper.
What's a mom to do?

I gamely tried to ignore the mounting pong but within minutes it was all consuming.
I muttered something about needing to change a diaper and the principal very generously commented that he has three children so he understood.
He did however open his window.
We continued our conversation but even with the window open the air became intolerable.
Was it just my imagination or was he turning a little green?
We concluded our chat and we made a hasty exit leaving our noxious memento behind to fade slowly.

Once the nuclear poo was dealt with I sat in the car thinking about the situation.
Once again parenting presents a ridiculous situation within which we need to handle ourselves with grace and eloquence against all odds.
I'm not sure I succeeded but on the upside maybe he'll think twice before calling me into his office again......

Out Sick.

Wouldn't it be ironic if I'm not (really) posting today because I have the swine flu?!

Well that's not the case but I do need a mental health day - so check in with me again tomorrow.......

Hype-odermic.

Several of you have asked me to write a post about the swine flu/H1N1 vaccine.
Many are wondering if they should get it. If it's safe. If it's necessary.
I think maybe there's the hope I'll give you the definitive answer you need.
I won't.

I am a health care professional with over twenty years (how is that possible?) experience. I am also a mom.

Here's what I know:

Statistics can be used to illustrate your point regardless of where you stand on the issue so are, to some extent, useless.

The media use sensationalized reporting because it generates job security.

Fear for our children's health and safety is overwhelming.

The vaccine reportedly takes two doses and 14 days to be effective in children.



Here's what I think:

Drug companies are for profit and are therefore unlikely to be objective.

Flu happens every year and people do die - it just hasn't always been reported in such detail.

People who have had flu vaccine can still get the flu.



Here's what my heart says:

As a parent you have to do whatever seems right for you and your family.

Doing your own research, rather than repeating what you have heard, is vital.

It is not helpful to criticize others for their choices.


Wishing you clear minds and peaceful decisions.

Wouldn't It Be Nice..

To:

Eat a meal while it is hot and take more than ten minutes to do so.

Drink our tea or coffee hot.

Use a toilet without having to flush the prior users contents first.

Not answer a question all day.

Sleep/Nap and wake up naturally.

Have a conversation with our partner without interruption.

Make phone calls without having to hang up mid conversation to deal with some 'emergency' like a broken crayon for example.

Go out showered, fully dressed (I'm talking bra here ladies), wearing make up AND with clean teeth. OK that's a stretch but a girl can dream.

Buy something without feeling guilty if it's not for the kids.

Make it through a day without feeling guilt.

Make it through an hour without feeling guilt.

Feel that everyone got enough of you today - including yourself.

Be selfish.

To have a day off, with pay. Actually make that get paid, period.

Not sound like our parents.

Not have that grass is greener feeling.

Read your favorite blog in peace!
See what I did there?
The Parenting Myth - making dreams come true since 2009.

Treat, Treat Treat.

Halloween provides fantastic people watching. You can learn a lot about your fellow parents.
There are the parents who are willing to dress up, those who will join in with a token gesture - say a witches hat or some devil horns and those who resolutely refuse.

The refusers tend to stand together discussing sports. The token gestures explain themselves by detailing how busy they have been and the dressed ups wonder if they look silly.
If only we had our childrens lack of self consciousness. They all seem delighted with their costumes no matter how simple or elaborate. If they compare it is with pride and compliments not derision.

While I did feel a little silly, I can highly recommend being Glinda for Halloween. It is impossible to be anything other than happy while wearing a pink glittery dress, a blonde wig and a crown.
In addition the Six year old was so in awe of the wonder of mummy as "a beautiful, pink witch" she did everything I asked of her all day.
The baby had no comment, but she didn't seem in the least bit fazed by the wig.

Assembled as the Cuddly (we took some poetic license there) Lion, Dorothy, Scarecrow and Glinda, if I do say so myself, we looked fantastic. I couldn't believe the Baby would actually wear her costume but she not only did - she shouted "RRRRargh" at regular intervals.

Trick or treating was the usual frenzy. Super excited kids darting from house to house. Parents desperately trying to keep track whilst constantly saying "Did you say Thanks?", "Don't eat too much candy.", "Stay where we can see you."

We went to an incredible neighborhood where most houses had circular drives and each household went all out. My favorite was a Day of The Dead themed house. The candy was in a 12 foot skull, they had a Mariachi band and memorial tables for MJ and Farrah.
It was like a mini carnival.

The Six year old concluded her evening by counting and sorting her haul at the end of her bed. The Baby had been satisfied with one lollypop. Dorothy and the Lion were asleep within minutes of their heads hitting their pillows.
Leaving Glinda and The Scarecrow to Treat themselves to a well deserved glass of wine and a few 'borrowed' selections from the Six year olds bag...