For certain, moving your parents can have benefits. Your parents might need to be closer to doctors, to grandchildren or to other support groups. They might want to take advantage of city attractions or clean fewer square feet of space. Whether you're helping your parents move while they're still alive or cleaning out their house later, vacating a precious space is hard. I'm always amazed at the clarity of my memories of my parents' house, down to its unique sounds and smells. I have a visceral reaction to the sound of the childhood ceiling ducts clicking at night. It sounds like home.
Cristina Berretta at Tin Monkey on a Bike writes:
I can’t recall exactly how many times as a youngster I packed up my red and yellow Snoopy suitcase and headed to Grandma’s. At the time Grandma and Pop-Pop lived in a large two story house not too far from us. If I had the time I could draw the floor plan from memory, the large living room with a retro TV and stereo cabinet, the cavernous game room with a large pool table.
Ah, yes. I could not only draw my grandparents' floorplan, I could document their entire acreage. They lived next door to me until I left home at 18 for college.
Moving is hardest when one grandparent is moving without the other. Jessica Knapp writes of her grandmother's painful experience at The Good Death:
It's a draining process, I'm sure. But one surprising thing that has come up for my mother: my grandmother won't let her throw away anything that has my grandpa's name on it. And it's not a security issue. Because we're not talking about bills and bank statements. Even old notes and junk mail with printed labels.
When pressed for explanation, grandma says, "We can't throw away his name."
But it's not the actual object with his name. Because my mother is allowed to throw away these things if she takes a Sharpee and blacks out his name. So there's something very specific about the power of his written name that my grandmother doesn't want to see end up in the garbage.
Regardless of why your parents are moving, if they are living, it's important for the younger generation to be patient. Though we've lived a more transient life, our parents may have not. Eldercare ABC Blog offers a great post on easing the transition, including this abridged list.
1. Grief. This is a very strong emotion that is very common in all aged people and is very difficult to handle.
2. Loss of independence and control.
3. If they move in with their children there is the added problem of role reversal; until now they were the parents and provided care for their children.
4. Overwhelmed. Moving, at any age, takes a lot of work.
Have you moved your parents? If you're a grandparent and downsized, how did you feel about it?
]]>Part of parenting is teaching your child how the world works. We live in a capitalist country that regularly trades work for money. The sooner kids learn that money doesn't fall from the sky for no reason at all, the easier they'll have it when they're spit out into that mess we call the job market.
Allowances also teach delayed gratification and the concept of saving. As my girl starts wanting treats at the swimming pool or a collection of sea monkeys, she's going to want some pocket money. Up until this point, we haven't let her make those decisions on her own -- we've always decided when she can have something and when she can't. I'm looking forward to giving her a little more control over her treats, and I'm also looking forward to teaching her the far greater reward of a big prize at the end of an anticipated wait rather than a pocket full of trinkets and bubble gum. It's a tenet I practiced better in my youth than I did as an adult, and with this recession mess we're going through, I'm putting more stock myself in the waiting game. Man, I can't wait to redecorate that kitchen.
We don't give my daughter an allowance yet, but we'll probably start soon. (She's five.) She already does chores around the house, although not as regularly as she will once that allowance comes along. Now she does them because I tell her quite sternly to do them. That evil eye business won't stop once she starts getting an allowance -- doing the chores is not an option, but whether or not she receives her pittance is. If she does them willingly and without being asked more than once, she'll get the allowance. If she doesn't, she'll do the chores anyway for free. I think that's key -- the main argument against offering an allowance is the idea that the child could simply not do the chores if he or she decided not to care about the money. Oh, no. OH, NO. That is not how we roll.
That said, teaching kids how to handle money is so important. I will not only encourage an allowance, we'll teach my daughter how to handle a checking account and a credit card BEFORE she leaves the house. We want her to suffer the consequences on a small scale at home before she suffers them at the macro level out in the world. I believe that's as much a part of parenting as teaching children not to talk to strangers. DON'T TALK TO VISA. OR MASTERCARD. EVEN IF THEY HAVE CANDY.
Here's my real question: How much? If you offer an allowance, how much is it a week for how much work and which age kid?
]]>Girl interrupts me as I'm talking with my boss to say, "Hey..Hey.. My dad said if I don't talk to him until nine o'clock tomorrow morning, I get pancakes." -- From AJ at Soul of a Citizen
You have your ears pissed. -Kadence, 5 years old -- From Melissa at Cardinals - Fan
6-year old S was talking today about her dad serving in Iraq. I asked her if her mother had ever showed her where Iraq was on a map. She said, "No," so I told her to remind me when we went back inside, and that I would show her where Iraq was on the globe. She replied, "I hope it is near Florida!" - From B at Endless Love
Ellie: (After being told that maybe we'd go camping this summer) "Oh yay! Can we eat smurfs by the camp fire?" -- From Pammy at The Crandalls
And, my personal favorite:
2 "Teacher can I go to the bathroom? I just have to itch something." -- From Gian and Andrea at I Think This Could Go All the Way!
]]>At least to her.
]]>At least to her.
I know this will anger some of you, but I take a very firm stance on vaccinations. Vaccinations save lives. Period. Letting your child go without vaccinations is dangerous to her and to her playmates. Vaccinating your child is the entrance fee for living and interacting in a First World country.
I remember doing the research when my daughter was a newborn. I remember reading about autism. I remember worrying the vaccinations might cause autism. I'm not even completely unconvinced they don't cause autism in some children. I don't think we have enough scientific proof one way or the other -- I think it's possible many environmental triggers could produce autism in certain children, and one of those triggers might be vaccines. Another might be diet. Beyond that, I'm too uneducated to write. I'm not dismissing the possibility. I still think parents should vaccinate.
I'm predisposed to depression, anxiety and eating disorders. I developed an eating disorder when I was 17 that lasted well into my twenties. I don't know exactly which trigger caused it to flare. Was it my perfectionism? Was it my lack of control when my mother got cancer in my formative years? Was it society and glossy magazine models? Was it my mean "friends" who made fun of my thighs? Was it all of those things bottled up in a perfect anorexia cocktail? I'll never know. Will my daughter, who carries half my genes, develop an eating disorder?
I don't know. But there are only so many variables I can control, that I can anticipate, that I can head off. I can't force her to eat; I can't forbid her from eating. I have to take the chance that everything will be okay and soldier on.
So don't think I'm unsympathetic to worrying a child may be a loaded gun just waiting to go off, to wanting to prevent any unnecessary triggers. But vaccines aren't unnecessary. Without them, disease spreads rampant and people die of curable diseases.
Forgoing vaccinations wouldn't even be possible if most children didn't receive them. Depending on other people to keep your children safe in this way is wrong. Therefore, I believe if you choose not to vaccinate, you should homeschool your kids. Period. Until they graduate from high school. Which may very well be a viable and preferable choice for those who don't want to vaccinate.
Okay, I'm ready. What do you guys think?
]]>My five-year-old is very interested in justice. She doesn't even have brothers or sisters to get pissed about, so she eyes MY closet, MY jewelry box and MY dinner plate. Inevitably, she decides the world is out to get her, my rather pampered only child.
The fact is that I, too, once thought life wasn't fair in that I was getting the short end of the stick, even as I said all the things we parents are supposed to say, summed up nicely here by the father-of-five author of Clark Kent's Lunchbox:
At 37, I've long since figured out how unfair life is. And of course, it's never an excuse, just something you live with - an obstacle that makes you stronger. Kids, however, are still in that learning process. With mine, anytime I say that we can't go to the park because of the rain, or they can't have a toy from the store, it usually illicit the predictable response, "That's not fair!" Then I go into the big parental spiel on how because our choices or even by no fault of our own, life might not always go the way we want it to and nothing we can do will change it. Sometimes I say this with great paternal stoicism, while at others I find my own advice hard to swallow like choking on a fat, dry pill without the aid of water.
It's no wonder we as parents get SO SICK AND TIRED of the expression "it's not fair!" Because we're secretly thinking the same thing. Even preachers like Katina from Cleverly Disguised as a Responsible Adult:
I guess I assume that my kids will someday outgrow this idea that things have to be fair. I hope that one day they will wake up and decide that it’s okay that one brother got offered a killer job in a big city and will be moving there soon with his beautiful young wife while the other is still working at a fast food restaurant waiting for good things to happen. I hope for this, but I know it isn’t likely. I know this because, even as an adult, I myself expect things to be fair. I hate it that my friend can eat everything on her plate and never gain an ounce. It kills me that the grass in my neighbor’s yard is thick and lush while mine is patchy and yellow. I can’t stand it when I do all the work and someone else gets the credit. It’s not fair.
Certainly now, after the past two years of recession and foreclosures and lost jobs and scary new diseases we want to rail, "It's not fair!" And so do our kids. Sometimes, they have more of a right to say it, writes Brandy at Connor Lint:
"It's not fair Mommy, It's not fair!!!" Those were Connor's words tonight as we gave him his first dose of chemotherapy.
James and I both replied, "No honey, it's not fair. It's not fair at all."
Yes, I used to think I was really getting screwed. My mom had cancer when I was a kid, I had an eating disorder, my grandparents all died by the time I hit 24. Then at some point, someone wise if direct pointed out to me that it's not fair I have a house when entire countries of people live in shacks. It's not fair that I have a family when orphaned children abound. It's not fair I have a job when thousands are unemployed. It's not fair I got a beautiful daughter when women struggle this moment with infertility. And so this is what I tell my girl when she grouses over a few jellybeans: Life is not fair, indeed.
And I am humbled by it.
]]>Even as we struggle to teach our children consequences and model positive behavior, sometimes people make bad decisions. The impact of their actions ripples all around them and turns co-parents into single parents overnight.
I wanted to share some of the stories I found about women dealing with a spouse or parent in jail because these people are suffering from others' actions. The kids are, too, whether they know it now or not. Everyone wants to believe their parents are perfect, just, kind and intelligent. It's hard to discover your parents are human, and it's even harder to discover it when you're still a young child.
The Prisoner's Wife is a blog about a woman whose husband went to jail a week before her son was born. Here's an excerpt:
When I got off the bus gripping my newborn son, I didn't know I'd have to go through three sets of metal detectors, leave everything I carried for the baby—except for a blanket—in a locker, remove my shoes, shake out my bra, and take off my socks just to spend an hour with my beloved and introduce him to his son. It was a humbling experience, and I never wanted to do it again, but it's been three years, and this is our life…for now.
At I Pray Today, a son misunderstands his mother's intentions in a domestic violence situation.
My little boy told me last night his daddy is sick. He acted so worried, telling me every little detail about what is wrong with him. But then he said something that really bothers me. He said but you won’t pray for him. I asked him why he would think that and he replied because you called the cops on him. He has been saying that for the past year and a half. And it really bothers me because it isn’t entirely true. But how do I make him understand that?
The effects of an incarcerated parent linger even into adulthood, as Snackie writes on Snackie's World:
Imagine being a six year old little girl all excited to go stay with Daddy for the weekend, only to end up watching your uncles carry him to the pullout bed at every family function because he was drunk again. Now imagine not knowing what the hell is going on while you tuck your drunk Daddy in every other weekend and cry because you think he might be dying because he is always “sick”. Then imagine your Mom telling you that you won’t have any weekends with Daddy for awhile because he went away on a trip, but later overhearing her tell the housekeeper that “the girls’ drunk Dad is in jail again“. To a kid, “jail” seems to equate to “never coming back” and there is so much fear in that…..I cannot even begin to tell you the nights spent crying myself to sleep over that crap.
I don't know the stories behind these stories. I can't sit in judgment of any of the characters involved. I do feel for all the kids, though. It must be very confusing. What do you even say?
* I'm sure there are mommies in jail, too. I just couldn't find any examples of fathers writing about the mothers being in jail. I don't intend to imply only daddies go to jail or commit crimes.
Though we just went through this yesterday two years ago when Sybil died of chronic kidney failure, we had more than enough time to grow tremendously attached to our fat, Brazilian-needing cat, Bella. Her long, silky hair, her melodic purr and her stinky butt all stick in our memories like her fur to our couch. She will be sorely missed.
My daughter is five now. She was three when Sybil died, but she remembers Sybil dying, and she remembers the conversations we had about Sybil. Recalling Sybil's death and how we were very sad but came to love Bella very much was comforting beyond belief for her and for us as we drug ourselves around town to three shelters in search of the newest addition to our family, Petunia Cookie Dough Arens.
Why did we adopt again so soon? I think ClizBiz summed it up best on BlogHer:
Adult human relationships are often fraught with complications, miscommunications and insecurities. With an animal, it's much, much simpler. Usually, it's just pure-hearted companionship and unconditional love - period. A world without that kind of love is not a world I want to live in.
However, some may feel adopting again too soon makes it seem like you're trying to replace the previous pet. There aren't really right or wrong answers, according to Nancy Gonzalez at the N=1 Experiment:
Another deliberation that soon follows is when or whether to get another pet? Again—no pat answers from me. When I lose a pet, I head right to the ASPCA to get another one—sometimes the same day. In my pragmatic adult mind, there is an animal in a cage somewhere who needs a home, and that’s that. For others, this immediate step would seem like a disrespectful attempt at “replacing” something irreplaceable—or worse. For some, it could complicate the grieving process.
On the other hand, there may come a time when a pet you didn't necessarily adore passes on. And then you may find, um, other ways to deal with the loss. Like Redneck Mommy, whose post is not for the recently grieving but will delight any hamster haters out there.
I know what you’re thinking. You’d be right. I took the remains of Rosie, waved her under the hungry kitty’s cold nose and then tossed her into the bush. The kitty followed in hot pursuit.
How noble of Rosie, I thought. She would have wanted this, I told myself. She wouldn’t have wanted to go to waste. She was continuing the circle of life.
We ended up telling my daughter our cat had died at 8 p.m. after exactly 72 hours of rapid decline. It happened the same day she graduated from preschool. Sometimes, life throws a lot of transition at you at the same time. Thank goodness for furballs to help us through.
]]>I'm worried she'll be scared, that she'll be there in the dark and the tears will start flowing down her perfect cheeks the way they do when she gets her bangs cut. She doesn't say anything during those moments when feeling threatened by strangers, she just reaches out from under the enormous black robe for my hand. And I am always there to offer it. Or the way she suddenly burst into tears in the middle of ballet class for no apparent reason, telling the teacher she really wanted her mommy. And I was there.
I'm not sure I'm ready for her to cry for me and for me not to be there.
It's different than my anxiety about school, which is under control. She's been in daycare her entire life, and she's made peace with daytime separations. Night, though ... nights are different. The only time we've been separated at night my mom has been there, a reliable stand-in and Grade A Comforter. I don't know if I'm ready to subject her to the separation or another parent friend to comforting her at 2 a.m. I'm also not sure I would really sleep knowing the phone call might come to drag myself out of bed and fetch my little girl home.
I also fear the morning after, as Chefdruck wrote about:
The outburst was monumental. There was foot stomping, shouting, crying, sobbing, doors slammed, and then silence. That's when I went up to put my exhausted little girl back together. She crawled onto my lap and cried softly for a while before telling me that she had missed us so much and that inflatable mattresses were terribly uncomfortable. Then she put her hand in mine and we walked downstairs to have a little lunch, both of us feeling better now that the storm was behind us.
But maybe I should encourage her to spend the night at her friends' houses, because the alternative is that they would come here, to my sanctuary, and drive me quickly and permanently insane. Like Christine at The Bean Blog:
After this weekend I’ve decided I’d rather rip off all my toenails while the dentist performs root canal without Novocain and somebody else pokes me in the eye with a rusty fork then have another sleepover at my house.
Looking deeper into the blogosphere, though, I was reminded that there are no cut-and-dry rules about spending the night at a friend's house. Maybe we'll dip a toe with a half-sleepover, involving laughter, pajamas, eating too much sugar, and then ... coming home, like Hillary's daughter, Strat, from Five Winds Family:
It makes me really happy when our kids check out their options. They haven't bought into the idea that the whole world is made up of rules that need to be followed "or else". They don't cringe at making themselves an exception to how things are usually done ... not unless it would really interfere with someone else. And it makes me happy when they do consider that, too, in a realistic way, instead of thinking that any departure from the norm is going to hurt something. I hope that isn't something they grow out of.
When did your kids have their first sleepovers? What's your plan?
]]>After a period of toddler sleep refusal at the 18-month point, I turned my weary back on all parenting literature. Mad, was I! Angry! Those books didn't work! Those experts didn't know what they were talking about! This denial phase lasted about a year.
Now with a daughter about to enter kindergarten, I perch on the fence of parenting advice. My strategy now is to wait for one of my friends to freak out about something, then research the source of her panic to see if I should join her in the big fear orgy. With so many friends in the blogosphere, it takes an average of three days for a new source of trepidation to emerge.
While mulling this topic, I saw twin posts from Beanma on BlogHer. The first reminded me of my relatives' amusement with my stack of parenting literature:
One night, at dinner with my parents, my mother listened to me rehash facts about infant's nervous systems and REM sleep. "I don't know," she said, wistfully nostalgic, "I just got pregnant, my belly got bigger, and then we had you." I smiled at her. And then I immediately said, in my own defense, "There's so much information out there, and I feel obligated to be abreast of it." But it came out sounding like a weak excuse. "Women in China," my father casually reminded me, "squatted in rice fields and gave birth."
Seriously? Comparing our Purell-loving culture with squatting and giving birth? I personally consider it a travesty if drugs are not involved in the labor experience.
But if you can't trust books and the Internet, who can you trust? Certainly not your mommy friends. Beanma goes on to write:
At some point, I thought it would be a good idea to send my list to several friends who had kids—to get some
opinions on these matters. And, boy, did I. Opinions, at this stage in the game, are the last thing I need, but I asked for it—only to find, in the end, I no longer trusted anyone save a few favorable reviews of the product in question by complete strangers on Amazon.com or Babies-R-Us. A friend told me which brand of crib she’d bought, and when I looked it up online and discovered that it had been recalled, I chose to stop asking her for advice.
This parenting business is tough. All of the opinions are conflicting. This whole topic is reminding me of my favorite-ever vintage Finslippy post, circa 2004:
“That’s not tuna you’re eating, is it? Did you know that tuna is composed entirely of mercury? Um, so, do you care about your unborn child?”
“Did you just order a turkey sandwich? Ever heard of a bacterium called listeria? Well, you better find out all about it, missy, because from now until that poor innocent baby is born, your thoughtless snacking can kill. No more cold cuts for you. Or brie. Forget brie. Don’t even think about goat cheese. If you care about anything except yourself. And I hope that’s decaffeinated tea you’re drinking.”
“Listeria? I ate a salami sandwich every day and you turned out fine. Don’t be an idiot. Eat this prosciutto while I stand here and watch you. Eat it eat it eat it. Your child needs protein. Jerk.”
We don't really need advice. We need facts and friends who can talk us down from the swine-flu ledge at crucial moments. We need friends and relatives who can help us sort the wheat from the chaff. We need our online tribe to laugh and cry and remind us to BACK AWAY FROM THE ADVICE. I laughed out loud when I saw Tia's post on Behind The Child:
When nothing else works and the child is disorientated by the hour change as well as being uncomfortable post operatively, Dream Mother sacrifices her sleep and enjoys one to one time with her child, appreciating the smiles and giggles she gets in return for her efforts to entertain the child.
I sit the child beside me, fire up the laptop and write a list like this.
In my early days, I was more Dream Mother. I sacrificed sleep, happiness and relationships for my daughter. Then, sometime around her third year, I just ... snapped out of it. And I'm glad I did, because she'd so totally make fun of me now if I were still Dream Mother.
]]>It's not just that I don't want to send a message that violence is the way of the world, or that I don't want to be a hypocrite and spank my child to teach her that hitting is wrong, although I don't want to do either of those things. There are a thousand arguments against spanking, but the strongest is still this: It doesn't work.
]]>It's not just that I don't want to send a message that violence is the way of the world, or that I don't want to be a hypocrite and spank my child to teach her that hitting is wrong, although I don't want to do either of those things. There are a thousand arguments against spanking, but the strongest is still this: It doesn't work.
I grew up in a spanking household, as did almost every single friend I had in my small town. There is one family I can recall who had a no-spanking policy, and everyone thought that was just a little bit weird. Spanking was a normal part of childhood in a time when corporal (thanks, Average Jane) punishment still hadn't been entirely obliterated from schools. We all got spanked and lived to tell the tale, and I can't think of one friend who came away with either physical or psychological damage from normal spanking.
But it still didn't work.
My parents spanked more when we were younger than when we were older. I remember clearly being spanked and more clearly watching my sister get spanked. I remember being very angry with my parents for spanking even when I wasn't the one in the hotseat. I didn't feel guilty for my crimes -- I just felt angry that someone was going to spank me.
After the spanking phase, my parents turned to pick-your-punishment and grounding/privelege removal. These techniques were far more effective with me, because I made a clear connection between my parents and authority. I realized with these new punishments that they truly were the boss of me, and they could take away my precious telephone and television whenever I misbehaved. Spanking = angry at them. Privelege removal = angry at me.
My husband pretty much agreed with all of my reasoning, and so we've never spanked our daughter. We did time-out when she was a toddler, putting her back in the corner over and over and over until she blew herself out and snurkled for us in apology.
As she's grown older and tested us more, we've been tempted at times by spanking, especially when the shock value seemed important to nip a new form of naughtiness in the bud, but instead we resorted to upping the disciplinary ante. I remember the first time I took away her My Little Ponies. They sat on top of my dresser, staring down at her, and she wailed as though her heart would break, but she got it: I am the boss of her.
In the end, spanking and all, I learned to obey my parents out of respect and not fear. That's my wish, above all else, for my daughter. I want her to respect me. And for that, I have to learn to control my temper, too. Spanking just seems a little too easy to do when you're still angry. I can toss a pony on a dresser a little too hard and nothing will come of it. I can't imagine how I'd feel if I made that mistake while spanking my girl.
What do you think?
]]>However, according to a study from Wiley Interscience, that's exactly what 3-5 years olds in preschools actually are.
In fact, the researchers found that 89 percent of so-called physical activity by 3- to 5-year-olds was found to be sedentary at community-based preschool programs, as were more than half of their outdoor activities.
Troubling, isn't it? But not surprising to me. We parents keep pushing for our preschoolers to read the Iliad by the time they're five. You have to sit down and pay attention to learn that. And when you sit down and learn all that educational stuff, you're not running around as much. I think this is a big wake-up call for moderation in all things, including insistence on phonics at age three. Remember, the kids in this study were at preschools, not at home.
How much exercise should the kids be getting? Again, according to Wiley Interscience:
Contemporary professional standards for young children's physical activity have been propagated by the National Association for the Education of Young Children (1998), which recommends at least 60 min of outdoor activity per day, and the National Association for Sport and Physical Education (2002), which advises 120 min per day of physical activity (i.e., 60 min structured and 60 min unstructured) for young children.
If your preschooler has couch-potato tendencies, it's time to nip that attitude in the bud. Sedentary at four years old is no way to live. Four-year-olds, generally speaking, still like to hang out with their parents, so the best way to get your kid to move is to shut that laptop and get outside. Chances are, you'll probably be followed by the pitter-pat of little feet.
Creators Delight had another good suggestion:
Use physical activity to counter something your child doesn’t want to do. For instance, make it the routine that your child can ride a bike for 30 minutes before starting homework after school. Your child will beg for 20 more minutes outside just to put off the homework!
What about organized sports? Those little size-9 soccer cleats are awfully cute! I myself have held off on enlisting my five-year-old in organized sports because I don't want to have to watch games. (Hello, my name is Rita, and I'm fiercely protective of my weekends.) According to Mostly Mommy, I probably haven't missed much:
Essentially, what I have learned is that preschoolers can't play sports, but they can run around and have fun in an approximation of dancing or hockey. Officially, I am taking Emma to these classes so she can get used to a class format and to expose her to lots of different healthy activities. Of course, the real reason is that it gives me an hour where I don't have to come up with activities like her own personal cruise director, and the vain hope that afterwards, she will be tired enough for a nap.
I think the real point here is that we as parents are responsible for keeping our kids active. We can't rely on schools -- preschool or otherwise -- to do that work for us.
]]>But apparently, I still haven't seen the worst of it. I'm still choking on the idea of goody bags for all the guests, but apparently, parents the world over are suffering from older-kid-birthday-party-competition in larger cities and at the hands of richer parents.
]]>But apparently, I still haven't seen the worst of it. I'm still choking on the idea of goody bags for all the guests, but apparently, parents the world over are suffering from older-kid-birthday-party-competition in larger cities and at the hands of richer parents.
BlogHer's Lindsay of Surburban Turmoil writes:
The whole thing makes me sort of... angry. Each preschool party I hear about or get invited to seems to be more elaborate than the last. Punky has been invited to several fourth birthday parties held for children she hardly knows, with professionally printed invitations and massive guest lists. My friends have had petting zoo parties, princess makeover parties, professionally-planned tea parties, parties with inflatables, clowns, magicians,rock bands... the list is endless. It's all so elaborate that I feel like I have to have something cool on my preschool party agenda or no one will show. I may not have a lot of cash, but I do have a lot of, well, pride.
Um, what? Professionally printed invites? Rock bands? *shakes fist* Apparently, other parents are trying to kill us dead.
The funny thing? For every description of an elaborate birthday party I read, I see bloggers trying to make sense of it. We're all asking, why, why, WHY?
Carmen from Mom to the Screaming Masses:
My question is, when you do a big party like this - no, strike that, a HUGE party like this - what happens when you have to top in the next year, and the next? What do you do for the big number parties? The graduation, the engagement and the wedding? When does it stop, and why should you take out a loan just to pay for a party?
I understand the desire to see the expression on your child's face when presented with an inflatable slide. Full disclosure: We just had an off-site birthday party for my daughter's fifth birthday. We had ten kids at an indoor gym. It had a 40-foot trampoline and an inflatable slide. They provided the cake, the lemonade, and the planned game of hide-and-seek. I jumped on the trampoline until I remembered that my body has given birth and doesn't go as well with trampoline jumping as it used to (Janet, you KNOW I'm talking to you). Then I sat on the sidelines with my friends and my husband and watched our children injure themselves for an hour and a half. And it was GREAT. I didn't have to clean my house, I didn't have to let people inspect my decor, and I didn't have to steam my carpet the day after. I get it: Outsourcing is fun. But let's be reasonable. If you've spent money to provide entertainment, why go any further?
Also: the gifts. Oy. We actually banned gifts for my kid and did a book exchange instead. Everyone brought a book, we numbered them, then the kids picked numbers out of a hat and took home a book. I don't think the children realized ahead of time that they were providing their own party favors, but they were. I figure the parents spent the same amount of money that they would have on a gift and avoided going home with a bag of plastic crap they'd have to later dispose of while their children were sleeping. Love me, other parents. I do it for you.
Also? We did it for ourselves. I've seen plenty of kids, eyes glazed, rummage from gift bag to gift bag in a zealot-like fit of greed, only to come down off the present high five minutes later with a strangled cry of "that's it?" It makes me feel ill. I'm not above presents. I love presents. But we actually got out of letting kids bring presents by telling my daughter if she wouldn't make a fuss, we'd get her an extra gift from us. She totally bought it, and skipping this part of the party made me happier than I could've imagined. There was also more time for injuries on the trampoline that way.
Take heart, though, some people like kid birthday parties! Kaui from How to Party with an Infant writes:
Actually, I have no idea if people had fun or not. The night was a blur and went by way too fast (as did these past four years.) but I love having parties--the running around, the hostessing, the eating and drinking. I love the kids running wild, the adults relaxing, the adults running wild. I love the energy, the late-night hangers on, the clean-up with friends and family. I loved my daughter's expression as everyone loudly sang Happy Birthday to her. She was in awe. She was thrilled.
So, there's that. What do you think? Too much? Not enough? Where does it end?
]]>My worst fear, of all the fears, is that my daughter will be taken from me. I have to work constantly to ignore the possibility of kidnapping, because she is so often out of my grasp at daycare. However, it appears research doesn't support the Massive Freak-Out I'm about to have just because I'm even writing about this topic.
]]>My worst fear, of all the fears, is that my daughter will be taken from me. I have to work constantly to ignore the possibility of kidnapping, because she is so often out of my grasp at daycare. However, it appears research doesn't support the Massive Freak-Out I'm about to have just because I'm even writing about this topic.
According to Momstyle:
The Department of Justice reports that there are only 115 stereotypical kidnappings per year, in which a stranger or acquaintance abducts a child to hold for ransom or abuse and kill him or her.
Apparently, strangers aren't the real danger. Here's more from Glamorous Mom:
The recent cases in the headlines however, appear to be non-family abductions. It is estimated that 3,200-4,600 non-family abductions are reported to law enforcement each year. Most offenders are someone known to the family, such as a casual acquaintance. Of those reported, approximately 200-300 are total stranger abductions, someone not known to the family kidnaps the child. Although the headlines lead us to believe that the number of stranger kidnappings is on the rise, most studies show no increase or even a decrease.
Good to know, right? Other people probably don't want your child, or even if they do, they're not going to act on that desire. It's probably fine to let your child walk down the street without you, provided he or she knows not to pet anyone's puppy, follow them for candy or let them touch anywhere a swimming suit would cover. The world is not necessarily a terrifying place, at least as far as kidnapping is concerned.
I don't want to downplay kidnapping too much, though, because while chances are far greater your child will be in a car accident with you driving than be kidnapped, it does happen. And even 115 times is too many. So, don't panic, but do print out this list from Help Find My Child and tuck it away somewhere safe.
- Report your child as missing to local law enforcement or dial 999* as soon as possible.
- Ask if your child can be placed on the www.missingkids.co.uk website (.com for the US). Only a police officer can refer a child to the website.
- Ask for the name and contact number of the officer you have spoken to.
- Limit access to your home until law enforcement arrives. Don’t touch or remove anything from your home or your child’s room – anything in your home could hold a clue to the whereabouts of your child.
- Write down what your child was wearing the last time you saw them and remember to include distinguishing features such as birthmarks, scars, tattoos, piercings etc.
- Make a list of your child’s friends and contacts. Try and include addresses, phone numbers, e-mails and mobile numbers if you know them. This can save valuable time.
- Find a recent photographs of your child.
- Keep a notepad by your phone to log down who calls you and the times of calls.
- Keep a diary or notebook to hand – this comes in useful as you may think of questions you want to ask or think of some information, which you may later forget.
- Look after yourself – your child needs you to remain strong and healthy!
- Talk to someone about the feelings you have.
You will probably never need this list, despite what the television news would have you believe. But I wanted you to have it anyway.
]]>
]]>
Apparently not, according to a recent study in the U.K.:
Of the dads who said they didn't read to their kids 87 per cent blame work commitments while more than a third (34 per cent) said they were too tired.
While 89 per cent of mums said they did read to their children, more than half of them said cleaning distracted them and 49 per cent were sidetracked by other household chores or cooking.
I find it hard to believe so many dads are slacking in the reading department, but maybe that's because my husband routinely fights me for bedtime-reading duty. We read to my daughter every night, but then again, we only have one daughter, and there are two of us. And, thanks to our library cards and overblown love of printed material, there are more than 300 books in her room.
Lest you think I'm being all righteous about my family reading time, I'll be the first to admit there are many, MANY books I've given away when my daughter wasn't looking. They're usually the licensed character books, anything with Extreme Rhyme, anything sickeningly sweet or alarmingly violent, and anything that uses the word "gossamer."
I more than agree with MEP at Not to Brag who writes:
I am also not a huge fan of the books with labeled pictures of dinosaurs, household objects, and vehicles. One that we have has a two-page spread of farm vehicles that features like eight different kind of tractors.
I've often wondered at what age parents stop reading to their kids. I'm horrified at the thought of my daughter preferring to read something on her own than to have me read it aloud to her. There, I admit it. I like reading to her that much. So I think I found some justification from homeschooler Marbel at Two Kid Schoolhouse:
So readers need to be read to. They need to be read hard books. They will love having hard books read to them, and they will learn from them. Don't think of reading aloud as a thing for little kids, and a waste of time for Mom and Dad. It is a really good use of time; even better for those like me who are deficient in their classics-reading.
So? I'm not going to give it up. I found myself developing panic this spring when I realized my daughter could read phonetic words like "marigold" already. I thought, "My God, I'm going to be ousted soon!" But you know what? She still needs me to explain harder concepts. And how else is she going to learn about the narrative arc and literary devices? Yes, yes, I am still needed. I'm not going to concede my spot just yet.
What do you think? Do you read to your school-aged kids? At what point do you think you'll give up the bedtime-story routine?
If you need help choosing older kids' books or picture books, check out Shannon's posts on BlogHer.
]]>Here's how it happens, though: I was just thinking to myself when asked to write this post, "Maybe it really wasn't that bad?" So I surfed through my Surrender, Dorothy archives for an hour or so and found this gem from August 2007:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The little angel had her first trip to the dentist this morning. She was great during the teeth counting, teeth cleaning and demonstrative twirling she did for the dentist. She was great while I got my teeth "cut" as she called what the dental hygienist was doing with the sharp, pointed stick. (I tried to tell her they were cleaning my teeth, but it did sort of feel like the woman was intentionally missing a few too many times with her instrument of torture.) Then the dentist dropped on us what I've been dreading for months: "Does she use a bottle or pacifier?"
Ah, the cup. The famed Nuby. Or, as we like to call it around here: F*cking Hell F*ck Cup.
Here's what happened when we took away my daughter's paci: Six months during which she woke up every two hours for anywhere from twenty minutes to four hours. By the end of this period, I was barely capable of working my full-time job, operating an automobile or smiling. I'd also gone on Zoloft. It was the worst six months of my entire life, and I'm going to go ahead and include Ma's cancer and my eating disorder in my life, because this was the first time I experienced months on end of three to four hours of choppy sleep with no naps, no relief, and an irritible boss. It hurt my marriage, it hurt my relationship with my daughter and it threw off my dopamine so badly I was crying at least three hours a day.
So you can guess how excited I am to chuck the F*ck Cup. The dentist seemed surprised when I promptly commenced crying right there in her open, cube-style office. "What's wrong?" she said.
"Oh, it's just that the last time..." I stammered.
"Well, just give her a reward system. Have you tried that?"
And then I killed her.
Not really, but seriously, how stupid of a question is that? No, I never have ever tried a rewards system on a potty-trained, vegetable-eating three-year-old who didn't sleep for six months of her life except during naps at daycare. Why? It never occurred to me. What a brilliant idea! Clearly, I've got much to benefit from your parenting advice. Wow, thank goodness I stepped foot in this dentist office today.
Now, of course, I'm not being fair, but seriously? "Have you ever tried that?" The thing is that these advice givers don't have to come live in my house and experience the night that goes like this:
Bed at 8:30. Screaming for paci or cup will go on for about two hours. That will put us at 10:30.
She'll wake up first at 1:30. She'll ask for the paci/cup. Screaming will go on for about twenty minutes to two hours.
If she went back to sleep at all, she'll wake up again at 3:30, and we'll repeat that session.
At 5:30, when she wakes up again, we'll go down on the couch, where she'll finally fall into a deep sleep, I won't hear the alarm, and she'll wake up crabby as hell and I'll give myself a black eye trying to get showered and to work in time. I'll slog through the day like a zombie, crying in the bathroom approximately once an hour, fall asleep in the parking garage when I get in my car, wake up, realize there's no way to get to daycare on time because it's now a full hour away, stress all the way there, and pick up a little angel who's rejuvinated from a three-hour nap and ready to do the whole thing again. If this goes on for more than a week, I'll have to add crying all the way to work and all the way home again to this daily repertoire from hell. I'll start to hate my life and wonder why I ever gave birth. Then I'll have the horrible, mind-numbing guilt that comes from wishing your child would sleep somewhere else forever. And I'll decide that the answer is not to have another child, because GOOD LORD JESUS WHAT IF IT'S LIKE THIS FOREVER? Then I'll feel guilty about that. I'll be thinking about this guilt as I'm up at 10:30, 1:30, 3:30 and 5:30 every night for months.
Maybe it won't be like that. Maybe she's different and more mature. But as we talked about how the dentist said the F*ck Cup (no, I don't call it that when I'm talking to her) has to go because it's hurting her teeth, she started to go all Lindsay Lohan When the Grey Goose Runs Out on me. By the time I called my beloved to say, "I need your help because I have to get back to work and I've already missed time for the dentist and she's howling," he could barely hear me over the banshee cries of despair in the backseat.
I'm sure this'll be great. Good thing the dentist told me about that whole "reward system" thing. I'm sure that'll snap her right out of it.
------------------------------------
I did actually end up bribing my daughter to let go of the cup, and it also helped that our air conditioner went out that exact week and it was 94 degrees inside our house at night. I find stifling heat useful when you're trying to lull a child to sleep.
I won't tell anyone NOT to use a paci. I think they're extremely useful soothing devices. At some point, you do have to stop, because it's not good for the child's teeth, but oh, my friends, you have my empathy the week you do it. I suggest stocking up on vodka beforehand.
]]>