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Mommy Talk
November 2008
Friday November 21, 2008
Posted by: mlaehr at 10:30AM CST on November 21, 2008
I suppose I should consider myself a lucky woman. My husband does his own laundry. Not by choice, but that’s a story for another day and a different column. I still hold the task of washing the clothes for all three of our children and myself, which means I’m doing mounds of laundry two, three and sometimes four days a week. Where does it all come from? That’s what I want to know. My daughter’s socks are still smaller than my hand. My boys wear school uniforms five days a week. How can there be a basket not just full of dirty clothes, but spilling over onto the floor by Tuesday when I just put away clean wash on Sunday?! Back in the days of one baby, laundry was a breeze. I could wash a week’s worth of itty bitty socks, sleepers, T-shirts and overalls in one load. The worst part was folding and putting away a basket full of teeney weeney socks, sleepers, T-shirts and overalls. I remember wondering how one basket could hold sooooooo many pieces of clothing. Then came baby boy no. 2. Again, throwing the stuff in the washer and dryer wasn’t such a big deal. But folding and putting away became a bigger pain in the neck, because now I had twice as many itty bitty sweaters and onsies, AND I had to separate them first. Of course, I made this a bigger job than it needed to be because I used to like to dress my boys in matching clothes. That meant when I pulled out a green and blue striped T-shirt from the laundry basket to fold, I first had to check the tag to see if it was a 2T or a 4T, and then make sure it landed in the right drawer. And if I’m really going to be honest, I’d say I am, in part, responsible for the mounds of laundry my children create. After all, if they didn’t have so many clothes, I wouldn’t be washing, drying, folding and putting away so many things, would I? My kids do a pretty good job of making the laundry pile grow too. It’s not usual for my 5-year-old to want to change out of his school clothes into jogging pants and a T-shirt after school, wearing them just long enough to spill milk and spaghetti sauce on them at dinner and then put them in the dirty clothes basket when it’s time to change into pjs. That routine in one week’s time roughly translates into five uniform shirts, five pairs of uniform pants, a couple of school sweaters, seven T-shirts, numerous pairs of jogging pants and jeans, seven pairs of underwear, seven pairs of socks and up to five pairs of pajamas for me to wash. FOR ONE CHILD! I’ve made rules about my boys not changing their clothes after school when they are going to get ready for bed in a few hours, and wearing pjs for two nights, but I still end up with the same bubbling over, mound of dirty kids’ clothes several times a week. Last weekend, as I struggled to carry the massive heap of laundry down the stairs, I realized I should be thankful - even consider myself lucky - that I had so much wash to do. Just as many a mother before me, I am trying to teach my young children to be thankful for what they have and to take care of the things they are given - whether it be clothing or a new toy. And what better way to teach than to lead by example. Washing clothes is taking care of them. And instead of grumbling about it, I should be grateful that I’m able to dress my children in clean, warm clothes every day. So for as long as I can, or maybe just for this week only, I’m going to think of myself as the lucky lady of lots of laundry — and pray they don’t spill gravy on their new sweaters Thursday. Have a Happy Thanksgiving! Thursday November 20, 2008
Posted by: Janine Anderson at 1:39PM CST on November 20, 2008
Motrin pulled an ad targeted at moms one day after it aired because of backlash generated by bloggers.
Here's some of the text: One of the big complaints from moms in the blogosphere is the way the ad seems to portray moms who wear their babies as doing so for some frivolous reason. The ad is hoping moms who wear their babies (and who _must_ have serious pain from doing so) take Motrin to relieve those backaches. I wear Henry. Not like he's a bracelet, but because strapping him to my back or my front lets me keep him close and still do stuff. We've gone to baseball games, museums, hiking and on cross-country train trips thanks to the carrier I bought. And, it's International Babywearing Week. Bad timing for Motrin. What do you think? Do you wear your baby? Did the ad go too far? Are babywearing moms making too much of this?
Wednesday November 19, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:08AM CST on November 19, 2008
"Doesn't Santa make toys anymore?"
The question comes from my 4-1/2-year-old, who wants to know if elves make the Hannah Montana and High School Musical dolls that she's hoping to see under the tree this year. "Um, er, uh, sorta, but he does have to do some shopping, too." My answer was not very good.
But rest assured, my 4-1/2-year-old is on top of the trends, because according to the National Retail Federation's 2008 Top Toys survey, Hannah Montana and High School Musical are hot-hot-hot for the holidays.
Also on the list: Barbie, of course. According to the survey, conducted by BIGresearch, Barbie retains her top spot on the hot toys list for girls. Congrats, Ms. Roberts. (Did you know there's now a Cooking Show Barbie? The "I Can Be a TV Chef! doll comes with "professional lighting" and a "rolling camera." This is weird, no?)
Hannah's jumped four spots to claim No. 2 (replacing Bratz dolls, which fall to No. 4 -- can I get a subdued "yay"?). And video games and High School Musical merchandise appear for the first time on the top 10 list for girls.
Top gifts for boys are similar to last year. Electronics take the top spot (video games and Nintendo Wii). Boys will also ask for LEGOS, cars and Transformers, according to the NRF. Traditional toys Star Wars and Hot Wheels reemerged on the top 10 list this year after falling off of the list in previous years.
Now from the press release: “Retailers have been scaling back inventory in anticipation of a challenging holiday season, so parents are encouraged to shop early to ensure they are able to find specific toys,” said NRF President and CEO Tracy Mullin. “The good news for parents is that many retailers are featuring toys as loss leaders this year, heavily discounting and promoting these items to bring shoppers into stores.”
2008 Top Toys for Girls
2008 Top Toys for Boys
About the Survey: The NRF 2008 Holiday Consumer Intentions and Actions survey was designed to gauge consumer behavior and shopping trends related to the winter holidays. The survey, which polled 8,758 consumers, was conducted for NRF by BIGresearch Nov. 5-11, 2008. The consumer poll has a margin of error of plus or minus 1.0 percent. Monday November 17, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:52AM CST on November 17, 2008
My daughters’ favorite person in the world might just be their cousin Miles. He’s 2-1/2 and loves humpback whales, trains, subways and tofu. He runs everywhere he goes, makes impressively realistic sound effects for all his toys, and recites whale species like a little marine biologist.
And when he’s around my daughters, they are the stars of the show. He watches everything they do. He laughs at every silly face they make. He mimics my 4-year-old’s every pirouette. He bounces between my daughters like a pinball – going from one to the other and back again.
In return, my daughters fawn over him. ("Miles! Do you want me to sit next to you?" "Miles! Do you want me to read you a story?" "Miles! Do you want to hear my song?" "Miles! Miles! Miles!")
The biggest problem with Miles? He’s miles and miles away. He lives in New York City, and we miss him terribly. For weeks before a visit, he’s all my daughters think about. But every visit ends and away he flies. And then we’re here, missing Miles.
Missing people is a relatively new concept for my kids. For the longest time, they seemed to think only of the people right in front of them. Visitors would come, my daughters loved the company. Visitors would go, my daughters shrugged and kept playing.
Around age 5, though, my oldest daughter finally caught on that once certain family members said goodbye, it was months or more before we saw them again. And then came the tears. She learned one of the cruelest facts of life: We can’t always be with the people we love. ... (more)Wednesday November 12, 2008
Posted by: Janine Anderson at 3:05PM CST on November 12, 2008
I want new bras. I’m sick of wearing undergarments whose primary purpose is to allow access to my breasts. With a year of breastfeeding under my belt, I’m ready to reclaim my chest, at least partially.Henry still nurses in the morning and before bed, but I’m not pumping during the day any longer. It was so free, leaving for work without my accompanying collection of bottles, ice pack and pump parts.Ah. Wednesday was the first day of not scheduling 15-minute breaks in the morning and afternoon to hide away from the office and take care of baby business.It’s good-bye to the chuk-issss chuk-issss chuk-isss of the pump. And good-bye to the days of required 24-hour easy access. But now, it’s hello to bra shopping.This is no fun. First, bras are expensive. I’ve rarely bought more than one bra at a time, so the sticker shock doesn’t really set in. I go to the store, pay $30 and go home with a bra.No problem. But now, I need to buy three or four all at once. That’s a $90-$120 bra bill. I have to budget for that kind of shopping.We were in Milwaukee last week and I stopped at a lingerie store. I had hoped they’d have something that would fit well, be pretty, and not too expensive. I hoped for too much.I tried on 10 bras. None fit right. The bands gapped, or the straps slid off my shoulders, or the cups wrinkled. There’s been no new development on this wardrobe need since then. I’m telling myself that it’s because I should wait until after I’m not nursing at all anymore to get the new bras.After all, what if my size changes again once I’m done breastfeeding? I’ll just have to spend the money to get new bras again. (At least then I’d be following the crazy recommendation of “bra experts” who say you should replace those pricey pieces of clothing every three to six months. Really. Who does that? Who can afford it?) But really, it’s just an excuse to avoid the intimates department for a while longer.Shopping for a new bra was worse than trying on swimsuits. While having a well-fitting swimsuit is great, it’s not an article of clothing that gets much use. And if it’s used for swimming instead of, say, sunbathing, nobody really sees it anyway.A bra is essential. It goes on every day. It’s worn all day. When that’s uncomfortable, or doesn’t fit right, it’s more difficult to ignore.So, I want new bras. I want to wear grown-up underwear. I want them to be pretty, feminine, supportive.That last one is important now. Henry left me with a bigger chest that needs some extra help. It’s yet another reminder (like the stretch marks on my still-flabby belly) that having a baby has changed more than the size of my family.It’s changed me. Tuesday November 11, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:36AM CST on November 11, 2008
When it comes to raising our children, here’s one thing my husband and I do right: We eat dinner together as a family (mostly) every night. Here’s one thing we don’t do right: Cleaning up that dinner is a two-person job. Sure, our daughters (ages 4 and 6) put their dishes in the dishwasher … but that’s about it. Then they go off to play while my husband and I finish cleaning up. We wash the pots and pans, we wipe the table, we sweep the floor. We started this habit when our daughters were too young to help without breaking stuff or hurting themselves. We continue this habit because frankly, it’s just faster to do it ourselves. This is a BAD habit. We know this. So slowly, we’re breaking it. But on hurried nights (read: most nights), we fall back to our horrible ways. It’s just faster to do it ourselves. I’m guilty of furthering this horrible habit in other areas, too. The Playmobil world spread across our sunroom floor? It takes me two minutes to throw all those little plastic people back into their baskets; if I ask my 4-year-old to do it, she needs at least 45 minutes and seven different reminders. It’s just quicker to do it myself. The art supplies closet in the corner of our kitchen? I have it organized, and it drives me nuts when my daughters just shove everything back inside. I end up undoing what they’ve "put away." It’s just quicker to do it myself. The play kits designed by people who hate parents? (And by that, I mean the board games, doctor kits, play sets or puzzles for which the pieces only fit in their box or carrying case one specific way, so when a child attempts to clean up, the box never closes and everything dumps out all over the closet.) Again, just easier to do it myself. And their bedroom? This I don’t clean — aside from a bimonthly "I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE" clutter purge. But their room certainly doesn’t get straightened up daily. It’s a Saturday or Sunday chore, and by that time, there’s a week’s worth of books, baby doll clothes, Polly Pockets and half-naked Barbies carpeting the floor. So I instruct them to clean it, they’re overwhelmed by the job, everybody gets crabby, and I start saying things I swore I’d never say – things like "If this room isn’t cleaned up in 15 minutes, I’m coming in with a garbage bag and throwing all this stuff away!" (We’ve also had less frantic conversations about the importance of respecting their belongings, and showing that they care for their things by putting them back where they belong.) Finally, my 6-year-old decided it was time to have a talk with me. "Mom," she said calmly one day a few weeks back, "every time we’re about to put our toys away, we hear ‘Hurry up, it’s time to go to soccer!’ or ‘We have to leave for school!’ or ‘Come on girls, we’ve got to run to Home Depot.’ We never get time to finish playing, so we leave our toys out, and then we don’t get time later to clean them up." Well. I harrumphed. And then I had to admit that she’s spot-on in this description. This is exactly how their lives are: They play with their toys in short spurts sprinkled between school, family activities and errands. And she’s right: They rarely finish playing with something before we yank them from their toys and cart them off to the grocery store/Grandma’s house/Target. Guilty as charged. ... (more)Friday November 7, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:41AM CST on November 7, 2008
My 4-year-old went to school today in a dress so sparkly, I’m now wearing some of her glitter at work. It’s twinkling on my shoulders and chest from her hug goodbye. Hug, transfer of glitter, twirl off to play. This is my 4-year-old. I would nickname her "Sparkles" if it weren’t so, well, girly. But "girly" she is. Her shoes need to "tip-tap." Her dresses need to twirl. I now spin hangers in children’s clothing stores to test an outfit’s twirl factor. If it doesn’t spin out, I don’t buy it. Why bother? She won’t wear it. She sneaks makeup from my bathroom and comes downstairs wearing eye shadow up to her forehead and lipstick up to her nose. She shimmies, and poses, and sings bubblegum pop songs, and pirouettes everywhere. Other children count down: "5-4-3-2-1-BLAST OFF!" My daughter counts up, like a dancer: "5-6-7-8!" And off she spins. This is my 4-year-old. She wears pants — but rarely, and even then they must be pink or at least embellished with rhinestones. She names her clothes: "My Summer Dress." "My Rock Star Jeans." "My Fluffy Skirt." "If you were a shape, what would you be?" her preschool teacher asks her. "A star," she answers immediately. "Because it’s pretty." I cringe. That can’t be good for my 4-year-old. So after school I quiz my daughters. This is something I do sometimes; I hold impromptu oral exams to see what life lessons need more hammering. Today’s question: "What’s more important, being smart or being pretty?" "Being smart," answers my 6-year-old, who could care less about skirts that twirl. "Being smart," echoes my 4-year-old. I smile, fully aware that my relief is silly, but relieved nonetheless. "Except at weddings," adds the 6-year-old. "Yeah, and at balls," says the 4-year-old. "You have to be pretty at balls." ... (more) Thursday November 6, 2008
Posted by: mlaehr at 11:52AM CST on November 6, 2008
Today is Henry’s birthday. He woke up this morning at 2 a.m., minutes before he was born.
We celebrated his birthday as a family yesterday, just the three of us. We went to the Milwaukee Art Museum to see a special exhibit of interactive art. I strapped Henry to my back and we walked through.
We had a blast.
There was a big patch of floor, covered with projected images that change as you move across. Henry loved crawling around on it. There were screens that captured your images and projected them on the wall. Henry was fascinated. He laughed as Scott and I chased each other around as a projected beam of light separated us, adjusting to our movements. He talked at the neon lights flickering and changing in a dark room.
A year ago, I was having far less fun, but was no less connected to this little boy.
On Wednesday, Nov. 5, he was strapped to my back. Last Nov. 5, he was still inside me. I was hooked up to IVs and monitors, with pitocin pumping through me. I had Scott with me, and our doula. I remember having some chicken broth (the beef broth they brought me made me feel pretty nauseated) and lemonade, and lots of water.
I hadn’t had any pain medications, and was terrified of getting an epidural. I couldn’t rest, because when I laid down, Henry’s head compressed some nerve in my lower back, which was the most painful thing I’d ever experienced.
By 10 p.m., I couldn’t take it any more, my labor wasn’t progressing, and my fear of an epidural was eclipsed by that of a C-section because I’d been laboring for almost 24 hours. I got the epidural, had it dialed up once because the pain came back, and then went to sleep for a few hours.
I woke up around 1 a.m., and things had changed. I called the nurse, and it looked like Henry was now ready. An hour later, at 2:08 a.m., we got to meet him.
He was so small, with a breathy newborn cry. He quieted when Scott gave him a finger to hold.
I loved him instantly, and marveled at his head, his tiny shoulder blades, and the hands that looked so big on his tiny body.
Now, I marvel at how much he’s changed.
He’s got the same big, blue eyes. But now he’s army crawling around, pulling himself up on things and knocking down towers of blocks. He’s babbling constantly, telling us all kinds of incomprehensible stories. He belly laughs, he whispers, he giggles.
He still cuddles. He still loves to be held and rocked. He’s still my baby.
Happy birthday, little guy Monday November 3, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:29AM CST on November 3, 2008
So I’m ignoring my children because it’s been two weeks since I actually posted a Mommy Talk column on time ... and I’m so determined to meet my work deadlines that my 4- and 6-year-old daughters — the very subjects of my Mommy Talks — are essentially fending for themselves while I write. They’ve gotten their own bedtime snacks, flipped on the TV, selected a movie from their list of shows in the DVR. And I just looked over to see them both lying in one corner of the couch, snuggled up against each other like two bugs in a rug. On other days, they’ll bicker over whose feet are crossing the couch’s center line, who’s taking up more room, who is in whose way. Tonight they can’t get enough of each other, and they’re watching their movie in a big bear hug. I love it when they’re in moods like this one — when they recognize the miraculous gift they have in each other, when they’re supporting each other because I’m not around. This is why I had more than one child. This is what I hope continues for the rest of their lives. Sometimes I’ll yell at them: "Be nice to your sister. She loves you and you are her best friend in the whole world." To which I’ll hear, "Mom, she’s not my best friend, she’s my sister." "No, she’s both," I’ll correct. "Who do you play with more than anyone else? Who goes upstairs with you because you forgot to get socks and you’re too scared to go alone? Who lets you play with all of her toys, so you basically have twice as many? And if you wake up after a bad dream, who tells you, ‘It’s OK, I’m here, go back to sleep?’ " "My sister" comes the begrudged answer. "Yes, your sister." Love her. Lean on her. Together, you’ll go far. I’m astounded at the differences in my daughters. My 6-year-old is serious, with serious straight hair and serious green eyes. She wears dresses only if I make her. She’d go six weeks without brushing her hair if I let her. She wants to be a surgeon when she grows up — but only after she learns all the other medical specialties, like delivering babies and being an EMT. And then I’ve got my silly-dilly, fancy-schmancy, sparkly, glittery 4-year-old. She’s got white-blonde curls that glow against her sister’s dark blonde strands. She wants to be a rock star when she grows up — but only after she runs a car wash and visits the moon. She wears dresses every day, can name all the Jonas Brothers, and can’t get enough "Camp Rock." "They’re so different, it’s amazing," their teachers all tell me. But they get along so well. I think as parents we can encourage our children to get along with each other. We can demand that they share, that they’re respectful, that they apologize, that they don’t beat each other up. But we can’t force them to enjoy each other’s company, or stretch each other’s imaginations, or peacefully determine who has to be the dad the next time they play house. You can’t force that magic. It just happens. And my daughters have it. Lucky, lucky me. ... (more) |
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