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Mommy Talk
Mommy Talk by Liz
Monday January 12, 2009
Posted by: eyoung at 11:43AM CST on January 12, 2009
We were sitting in a restaurant booth, my daughters diligently coloring their children’s menus, when my mom brought up a long-ago friend of the family. She had recently passed away and we were remembering her fondly. An eccentric woman, she had heart, smarts, guts ... and a handful of husbands. "She was married seven times," my mom mentioned as we talked. That was enough to get my 6-year-old’s attention. Her head popped up from her kids’ menu. "SEVEN TIMES!" she exclaimed. "Oh my goodness!" And then: "I’m only going to get married TWICE!" Ba-dum-dum. It was very funny. And as we laughed at her prediction — and only momentarily fretted about her future — I consciously deposited the line in my memory bank. "Note to self: That one goes in her wedding day toast." My daughters are 4 and 6 years old. Now that they can make their own sandwiches and put on their own snow boots, I sometimes wonder if my primary duty as their mother might just be to collect anecdotes of their silly ways. I’ve already stored in my database how that same daughter at age 5 ordered us a new sofa from Target.com. And how my youngest daughter at age 3 once disappeared in the YMCA locker room after a family swim; I found her a few rows down hip-hop dancing with some high school students — wearing only her Princess underpants ... and my bra. As their mom, I’m privy to every silly-dilly thing they’ve done so far. It’s a powerful thing to know a person’s entire history. I hope to use the knowledge wisely — to someday give them back the belly laughs they’ve gifted to me. To remind them regularly of where they came from, no matter where they happen to be in the future. And yes, to embarrass them — but only when duty calls. One of my dad’s greatest talents was his ability to embrace the absurd. He had a wonderful sense of humor; he could make us laugh until we cried simply by pointing out the obvious or retelling a story we already knew by heart. Connected to this talent, I’m sure, was his innate ability to embarrass me when I was a teenager. Whether he was dancing to the pep band at basketball games "in front of the whole school!" or belting out "Roxanne" by The Police to my friends in the car, I was mortified. "D-a-a-a-d," I’d wail. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but smile at this man who could find something funny in the most serious of moments. His antics taught me important lessons: Be who you are. Laugh when you can. Don’t take it all so seriously. Now I’m the one doing the embarrassing. I’m already hearing "M-o-o-o-m!" and it’s music to my ears. This is fun. This is why we have children: The laughs, the silliness and the love — of course, the love. It makes us young again. My daughters say things every day that absolutely crack me up. I could be having the most rotten of weeks, and all I need to do is watch my girls for five minutes and I’m laughing again. I’ve been blessed with two live-in comediennes. What a marvelous gift. Someday, I’m sure, they’ll be horrified when I tell an old story or sing off-key in front of their friends. But someday after that, life might get a little too serious. They might need a reminder of the good old days — days when everything they said or did was hilarious. Days when the point wasn’t how much you made, or how fast you moved, or how much you got done, but how hard you laughed. The laughs, the silliness, the love — of course, the love. That’s what I want to give to them. Were you forever embarrassed by your parents? Do you plan to do the same to your kids? Monday January 5, 2009
Posted by: eyoung at 3:38PM CST on January 5, 2009
For a lot of parents, New Year’s resolutions can be summed up in eight words: Spend less. Save more. Clean house. Move more. While I’ve got a few more resolutions on my list for ’09, these are the basics. Like most of you, in the next 12 months I want to tighten up financially, get more organized and get more exercise. So with that in mind, I thought I'd share a few get-organized tips I've gathered from smart mom friends — PLUS a quick guide to kids’ specials at area restaurants, on the next page. (That would be the part of this post that can SAVE YOU MONEY.) Please add your own favorite tips in the comments section. Happy New Year! Storing Kids’ Artwork This time, I think I’ve finally found the answer. My latest method comes from a mom friend and it’s actually working. She picked up artist portfolio books like these at Hobby Lobby. The books have 24 sleeves for 48 page views. Buy one for each kid, for every school year, and then simply slide in all must-keep masterpieces. Various sizes are available. A 9-by-12-inch portfolio costs $11.99 (cheaper when you print a 40-percent-off coupon from the store’s Web site). You can personalize the spines of the books for easy reference ("Sophie, First Grade"). I keep one for each daughter by my cookbooks in the kitchen. It’s super-easy to grab the books and store their latest drawings and "I love you, Mom!" notes. (I’ve also got more "I am sorree for bean snottee" notes than I’d care to admit.) It’s cheap. It’s easy. It’s compact. It’s within reach of backpack-unloading. So far so good. Piles of Paperwork This year I created a wall calendar but still needed a way to get papers out of piles and top-of-mind. While sitting at the hair salon, I picked up Martha Stewart Living magazine and found this tip: Hang clipboards on the wall. Lots of clipboards. If you’re even sort-of crafty, you can cover the clipboards in decorative paper so they look more artful and less office-supply-hanging-on-your-wall-ish. I’ve now got clipboards in the back hall: one for each daughter, one for upcoming events, and one for "Take This When I Leave The House" stuff like checks for day care. Again, cheap, easy and functional. Here’s directions and a photo. ... (more) Monday December 15, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:48AM CST on December 15, 2008
Back in September, my daughter came home from her third day of first grade with a new classroom rule: "We don’t talk about pencils." "What?" I asked at the time, confused. "We don’t talk about pencils," she repeated. "If they break, or if they need to be sharper, or if we drop them on the floor or something. We don’t talk about pencils." "Ahh," I said, finally getting it. After all, if every first-grader announced every dull tip or dropped pencil to the class, the class wouldn’t get a whole lot done. "Yep," my daughter told me. "You’re just supposed to quietly get a different one." No complaining, no drama. Just get a different one and keep working. We adults should follow that rule in our lives, I muttered to myself at the time. Some days I think all we talk about are pencils. It’s now been three months since that conversation, but my first-grader’s Pencil Rule pops constantly into my head. Anytime I find myself complaining about something really ridiculous, I hear her little voice saying so simply, "We don’t talk about pencils." It’s a profound life lesson, really. (Not bad for day three of first grade.) Breathe in, breathe out, move on. Grown-ups, of course, are a long way from first grade, so it’s natural that we forget the basics. And grown-up life is full of annoyances: Long lines, slow trains, inconsiderate drivers, incorrect bills. The holidays only seem to super-size life’s inconveniences: Longer lines. Grumpier drivers. Winter storms that slow us down. "Save $10!" coupons that are only good during certain hours, on certain days, on certain things. Grrr. We’re dropping our pencils all over the place — cracking ice scrapers on frozen windshields, losing gift receipts in scraps of wrapping paper, battling holiday crowds when we’re hungry and tired. So we vent. ("I got all the way home before I remembered the gift cards, can you believe it?!") And we vent. ("He’s so picky I could wrap up a million bucks and he’d return it ‘cause it wasn’t green enough.") And really, when you think about it? Pencils. My children have been driving me a little nuts the last few weeks. We’ve had more sister-to-sister bickering and middle-of-the-mall meltdowns than my patience can handle. Over the weekend, in the middle of Mayfair Mall, I actually barked at one of my daughters: "You’re acting like a 2-year-old and I need you to act like a grown-up." I immediately realized what a completely ridiculous request I had made. First of all, she’s 6. Second of all, it’s not like we grown-ups are so well-mannered. I probably should have said instead: "I need you to act like a first-grader." We could all stand to take a lesson from the old blackboards and remember those classroom rules. • Be kind with our words and actions. • Listen while others are talking. • Wait your turn. • Wear gym shoes on gym days. (Grown-up translation: Winter boots!) • Always do your best work. And of course, my favorite, the Pencil Rule. "You’re just supposed to quietly get a different one," my 6-year-old told me that September afternoon — back when the air was warm, and the trees were green, and the hassles of winter coats and holiday crowds seemed eons away. Breathe in, breathe out, move on. Another lesson learned from my children. Now if paint spills on your shoes? Well, that, I imagine, is worth talking about. What are some other grade-school rules that we grown-ups should follow? -- Elizabeth Suggest a topic for Mommy Talk. Write to elizabeth.young@lee.net
Wednesday December 3, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:54AM CST on December 3, 2008
In Monday’s Mommy Talk, I highlighted some of the marvelous toys and other children’s gifts available in Racine’s specialty stores, from JoJo’s Toys and Moxie Child downtown to Red Bell in West Racine. Today I’ve got some gift ideas for the grown-ups in your life. As special sections editor at The Journal Times, I get to spend a few weeks in October and November perusing the aisles of Racine’s shops and boutiques looking for gifts to highlight in the newspaper’s various gift guides. Now, I realize that I’m no Oprah Winfrey, and Mommy Talk readers won’t find one of everything underneath their chairs or outside their front doors ... but here’s a list of some of my favorite things from my days shopping locally. *** Please add your own favorite stores and finds!
• I often shop for my Boston-residing history professor brother and Manhattan-residing architecture-loving sister in the gift shop of the Racine Art Museum, 441 Main St. Here I can find things they didn’t know they’ve always wanted. (And I don’t have to listen to any ridiculous claims that you can only buy cool presents in Boston and New York City.) This year I like the weird baby head glass tumblers, the huge selection of beautiful decorative dishes, and the Moma Ice Cream Set (in slideshow). These sleek, smooth ceramic cups make ice cream a special treat. Plus they’re petite — built-in portion control! A set of four cups ($18) includes four metal tasting spoons. • Have you been in Upurea yet? If not, drop everything you’re doing and go directly to 304 Main St. The store opened about a month ago and smells absolutely delicious. Upurea specializes in organic, natural skin care and hair products, cosmetics, fragrances, and more. (My hands are craving Juara hand lotion just typing this ...) For gifts, consider Tsi-La mini Eau De Parfums (see slideshow). The lovely scents come in equally lovely little bottles, packaged in Tsi-La’s signature black lotus box ($45, or a four-scent set for $95). Or DANI Soy Wax Candles in scents like Grapefruit Ginger, Bamboo & Birch, or Basil Lemongrass ($14-$24, see slideshow). Look for Coffee Lovers and Tea Lovers scented lip balms by Crazy Rumors; a set of three is $12. And fill her stocking with $10 eco-friendly soaps by skinnyskinny — the company practices top-to-bottom eco-friendly manufacturing, including purchasing wind-power for electricity and creating packaging completely from recycled, reclaimed or biodegradable materials. • Northern Lights Gallery, 423 Main St., has beautiful gifts — make that beautiful, affordable gifts. Tell them your price range, and they’ll help you find the perfect present — even if it’s under $10! For her, start at the jewelry counter. We like the new charms from Pilgrim Jewelry in Denmark (see slideshow). Choose silver or gold; gems, flowers, lockets and more. Charms can be combined or worn alone. Charms range from $10.95 to $24.95; bracelets and necklaces are $19.95 each. Northern Lights Gallery also sells beautiful handcrafted art-glass nail files in ruby-red velvet sleeves. They really work, and they last a lifetime — plus they’re suitable for natural or artificial nails and promote nail health. Prices range from $14 to $22, but don’t hesitate; according to the owners, they keep reordering because the files keep selling out. • Green gifts are in. Inside-Out sells a bunch, from candlesticks made from recycled copper wire, to jewelry made from old comic strips, to an "eco-chic" tote made from the inner tube of an old tire. Each bag is handcrafted and one-of-a-kind, decorated with markings or imperfection’s from the rubber’s previous life on the road. It makes a great travel bag, said owner Jane Key. It’s big enough to fit a laptop. Or whatever else you’re lugging around. ($54.75 at Inside-Out, 406 Main St.) • Every time I go into Artistry Furniture & Gift Gallery, 512 Monument Square, I wonder why I ever bother to fight the crowds inside a Crate & Barrel or Pottery Barn. This store has everything — jewelry, bags, dishes, glassware, elegant stationary sets, gourmet teas, baby gifts, super-squishy stuffed animals, amazing throws and accent pillows, and furniture that I’d gleefully purchase for every room in my house. But what I really love are the store’s amazing picture frames ... and wall art ... and candles ... and designer insulated lunch totes ... and monogrammed housewares that should cost more than $21-$32 ... and OK, you caught me. I love everything in this store. Oh, and note to husband: Your daughters and your wife would look fabulous in the Jessie Steele aprons I mentioned on the children’s gift guide Mommy Talk. Get us the black and white matching Josephine Cafe Toile. • Elegant Pauper, 441 Main St., is another store with so much great stuff inside that I can’t even try to tell you half of it. I’ll just say a few things: Barefoot Contessa dessert kits (around $12), Cucina kitchen products, funny and funky gifts like cookbooks and pet presents with sayings I can’t print here. For gal pals: inSTAMPables stationary and custom stamp sets. For college sports fans: Game Day ceramics featuring teams of the Big Ten (see slideshow). For mom: Mariposa aluminum serveware. And the gift you should buy yourself: The Finders Key Purse. It’s a key ring with a built-in pretty hook that you slip over the side of your bag. No more digging for your keys in the bottom of your purse. A $10 purchase that, seriously, made me feel like a much more organized human being. ... (more)Monday December 1, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 12:40PM CST on December 1, 2008
My 4-year-old surprised me – and Santa – last week when a spur-of-the-moment visit with the Big Guy yielded a new Christmas wish: "A Dorothy wig and Wizard of Oz shoes!" she told him. I’m sure he had the same thought I did: "You couldn’t have told me this last month, when all the Halloween stuff was on sale?" No worries, though. She’ll change her mind a dozen times before Christmas Eve. Besides, shopping for my children is the easy part of holiday shopping. It’s everyone else on my list that takes work. Anyway, I’m hoping the following gift ideas make your holiday shopping chores a little easier. Here at the JT, I get to spend a few weeks looking for great gifts at local stores to highlight in the newspaper’s various gift guides. Here are a few of the children’s gifts I’ve found in Racine’s specialty stores; please add your own finds too. JUST YOUR IMAGINATION ... • If your children love Playmobil as much as mine do, you’ll want to head to The Red Bell, 3201 Washington Ave. The store has the largest selection of Playmobil toys that I’ve found locally. For parents unfamiliar with Playmobil, the toys are a miniature world of endless, imaginative fun. (Here’s the company’s Web site.) Of all the toys my daughters have received over the years, the Playmobil stuff continues to provide hours of imaginative play every week. The poseable people drive buses, fly planes, put out fires, save lives, go swimming (and almost drown!), go on safaris, and so much more. Best of all, there’s a Play World for every interest: Romans, Knights, Pirates, Magic Castle, Fairy World, Hospital, City Life, Police, Airport, the list goes on and on. New this year: A circus, a water zoo, dinosaurs and a pony ranch. Plus, the stuff is nearly indestructible and comes with a bunch of little pieces that aren’t even annoying. Really! While you’re at Red Bell, check out these toys recommended by owner David Rosenthal: • Coggy Doggy, for ages 5+. This 111-piece set by Learning Resources lets kids build their own remote-control motorized pooch. Simple color-coded instructions help children build one of three different models, or they can create their own ($46.95, Red Bell). • Maxy Aquini Doll, for ages 3+. This doll has hair meant for shampooing. She’s 16 inches, has blinking eyes, poseable arms and legs, and a waterproof body. Her rooted hair can be washed, blow-dried and styled. For anyone who remembers the mess that was their dolls' hair after a shampoo, this is a big deal ($54.99, Red Bell). • Bare Books by Treetop Publishing. (This is my recommendation, not Rosenthal’s. I just love these.) If you’ve got a budding artist or writer on your hands, pick up a few of these fully-bound, hardcover blank books from Red Bell. Children can doodle, draw, scribble and write stories on the pages, then design or color the cover. I pull the books out on car trips, airplane rides and in restaurants where quiet play is required, but my girls love them any time. Large books are $3.99, small books are $2.99. They make a great stocking stuffer. ... (more) 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)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) 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)Wednesday October 29, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 5:23PM CST on October 29, 2008
Five reasons I love helping at my daughter’s classroom Halloween parties:
1. I get to spy on my child in her daytime habitat – see who she laughs with, who she sits by, who admires her surgeon costume, and whose costumes she admires. I’ve always believed that my children are completely different at school than they are at home – so any chance to spy on them at school is a sneak peak into their alternate selves.
2. I get to meet the kids whose names pop up during dinner table conversations and finally put faces with names. (Ah, so that’s the boy who was so nice when she was having a bad day. Oh, so that’s the girl who invited her to the skating party. OK, so that’s the new best-best friend.). Plus I get to meet other parents. If I’m friendly enough, maybe I can call on them to volunteer at the Valentine’s Day party, and the PTA carnival, and the fundraising night next month …
3. I get to make fun stuff like these cool monster cupcakes (I suggest Sour Patch Extremes instead of Circus Peanuts for feet and M&Ms make fine eyes), and I get to help with fun games like wrapping kids in toilet paper or running eyeball relay races.
4. I get to play “involved parent” even when I spend most of my days (and lately, evenings) at work. Since my daughters were born, I’ve struggled to balance my work responsibilities and my mom duties, and I haven’t always succeeded. So I love when I can sneak away in the middle of the day to spend a few hours with my daughter – even if I end up coming back to my desk when the party’s over. A mom friend spotted me today with icing up to my elbows and seven cupcake-holding first-graders needing help; she jokingly asked if I was running for Mom of the Year. “Yeah,” I thought to myself, “Some weeks I work so much that I don’t know what my kids eat for dinner. My children go to day care when there’s no school, even though ‘all the other kids get to stay home’. I’m always late to everything and never RSVP on time for anything. And I’m fairly certain my children’s stomachaches are because they’re internalizing my stress. Yeah, I’m Mom of the Year.” But I’ll admit: It sure feels nice to pretend for a few hours that I’m even in the running. Don’t we all deserve the title – at least for an afternoon?
How do you stay involved in your child’s school? Monday October 27, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:12AM CST on October 27, 2008
As if the weeks of robo-calls, campaign canvassers and campaign ads weren’t enough, my husband and I had to sit through two more stump speeches last week. Only these stump speeches came from our daughters. We were sitting in the sunroom enjoying a peaceful evening – my husband was reading, I was getting some work done – when surprise! Two more candidates entered the race. My 6-year-old grabbed her High School Musical microphone, climbed onto the ottoman and started yelling at us: “I’m here because I’m ready to be president of the United States of AMERICA!” she yelled into the microphone. “I’m on Barack Obama’s team and together we want to be president!” (Full disclosure: She was on Hilary Clinton’s team during the primary – “She’s the girl,” she explained then – but she’s since decided Barack Obama’s name is more fun to say.) “Here’s why I should be president,” she continued. “I’ll never lie. Presidents shouldn’t lie and I WON’T LIE. Right now we’re winning; we have the most scores. But if John McCain was here, he’d be winning, too. We all just need to DO OUR BEST.” Her stump speech continued for a good 10 minutes. I won’t subject you to the full transcript (although I was holding a pen at the time, and in typical obsessive-mom fashion, I scribbled down the entire thing). Rest assured, she addressed the big issues: Health care (“we all need to get flu shots even if it hurts!”), education (“just try your hardest!”), the environment (“clean up your mess!”). She also offered what I think is the election season’s best sound bite: “I’m voting for myself. But you know what I’m really for? MYSELF!” If only all politicians were so honest. ... (more)Monday October 13, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:57AM CST on October 13, 2008
Here’s what I think: I think we moms go through nine months of pregnancy, hours upon hours of labor, and months of hooking ourselves up to breast pumps so that later, when the water’s too cold, we can sit by the edge of the pool. At least that’s how it happens in my family. My husband, hero of a dad that he is, is the one who jumps in and freezes his butt off. "Nope," I say. "It’s too cold for me." There’s no argument. There’s no whining. I sit, he swims. I stay warm, he lets our children climb on him like a pool toy. I read my book, he does push-ups in the kiddie pool, our shrieking daughters hanging on his back as he splashes up and down in the water. I’ve spent enough time poolside to know that I’m not the only mom who pulls this. Pools at hotels? Dads. Waterpark pools when the water is fffrrreeezing? Dads. This summer we spent a night at a Chicago hotel with an ice cold pool. "How’s the water?" I asked a fellow mom when we walked in. "It’s freezing," she answered, then gestured to her husband in the deep end with their three kids. "That’s why I’m sitting here and he’s in there." "You go ahead," I said to my husband. For us – and for many other couples, it appears — swimming in a cold pool is HIS job. Making sure my daughters have swimwear that fits? That job is mine. ... (more)Thursday October 2, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 12:25PM CST on October 2, 2008
I’ve decided it’s time to rethink the concept of “baby weight.” I’ve decided “baby weight” actually becomes an issue five or six years into motherhood. Yes, five or six years. Follow my logic:
First few months after having a baby: The weight might linger, but it’s OK because for goodness' sake, you’ve just had a baby.
Next few months after having a baby: The weight begins to melt away because A) you don’t have time to eat; B) you’re running up and down the stairs between bassinet and bottles; and C) you’re still nursing so you're burning a bazillion calories that you didn’t have time to consume in the first place.
First few years after having a baby: The weight stays off because you're A) constantly chasing your toddler through stores or down the sidewalk; B) signed up for every Baby & Me gymnastics or swimming class you can find; and C) taking daily walks because the stroller is one place your child will actually stay and be happy.
And then comes years 5 and 6. In years 5 and 6, you’ve succumbed to the pitfalls of parenthood: You’ve stopped making organic baby foods and watching food pyramids, and you’ve given in to sugar and fast food. You order pizza so often that your youngest shouts “Domino's!” anytime the doorbell rings. You’re eating at McDonald’s every weekend because you’ve got two soccer games and three birthday parties to rush to. And you’ve always got snacks in your purse just in case, but your children have outgrown whining for them, so the goodies stay in your purse until YOU find them at work and chow down.
All the bad food habits of your youth have returned to your cupboards – chips and Cheetos and sugary cereals and Oreo cookies – only your metabolism is two decades slower. Plus, you’ve ordered 16 pies from the latest school fundraiser and somebody's got to eat those.
Instead of Baby & Me classes that get you moving, you’re on the sidelines for all of their activities: You SIT through their soccer practices, ballet classes, swimming lessons or gymnastics meets. You SIT in the car driving them from one activity to another. You SIT at work without taking the half-hour mid-day walk you used to take because you have to leave early to get the kids from school. And at the end of the day, you SIT in front of the TV or the computer just to unwind. (Plus, you eat ice cream every night because it’s delicious and you’ve had a hard day.) Moreover, playgroups have graduated to “Let’s get a drink because we pulled off another book fair!” groups, so instead of pushing someone in a swing, you’re SITTING at a local restaurant with other moms drinking margaritas (also delicious).
And because of all this sitting and driving and meeting and eating, you no longer have time to move. I’ve been trying to get to a new gym for a MONTH to use a free week’s pass to find out if I want to join said gym. If I can’t get there to try it, will I ever actually get there to work out?
So yes, I hereby move that we redefine “baby weight.” Who’s with me?
And how do you squeeze in time to work out?
Monday September 29, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:07PM CST on September 29, 2008
(Ten points if you know what this Mommy Talk post is about just by its title alone. OK, now try this one ...)
... (more) * * * "Blame it on the rain, yeah, yeah." No, it's not 1989. It's 2008 and my 4- and 6-year-old daughters are rocking out to that lyric, singing it over and over again as they dance around their bedroom. That's the only lyric from the Milli Vanilli song that they know — and they only know it because of "Full House." In one episode of the old ABC sitcom, DJ Tanner and her best friend Kimmy Gibbler are listening to their Walkmans and singing in DJ's bedroom. They're one line into the chorus when they're interrupted — "How RUDE!" — by little sister Stephanie. Remember them? DJ, Stephanie and Michelle? Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky? Joey Gladstone ("Cut. It. Out.") and Danny Tanner? That's right: The Tanner family is again living large in my living room. My children love "Full House." They love the Tanners. They love the happy home in San Francisco where all nine Tanners live in harmony and hilarity. They especially love little Michelle. The episodes air on the Family Channel and have a standing spot in our DVR. My daughters request them by made-up titles: There's "Foot Michelle," in which Michelle's feet grow too fast for her self esteem. There's "Bird Michelle," in which Michelle accidentally helps the preschool class pet escape through the classroom window. There's "Car Michelle," in which Stephanie drives Joey's car into the kitchen. And their latest favorite: "Auckland, New Zealand Michelle." In that mouthful of an episode, Stephanie and Michelle accidentally fly to Auckland, New Zealand. (That episode originally aired in 1992 — back when it was apparently still possible to accidentally board a plane going to Auckland, New Zealand.) The episodes all follow the same basic formula: Child messes up. Child learns lesson. Child is forgiven and accepts consequences. Everybody hugs. And there you have it: Thirty minutes of quality family TV. We just have to time-travel two decades to find it. Wednesday September 17, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:03AM CST on September 17, 2008
When my oldest daughter started kindergarten last year, I was astounded at how quickly she adjusted. She loved it, no question. But once the school day ended and she was home again, her emotional state was fragile to say the least. One small thing could set her off and she’d completely lose it. Maybe her sister would knock over her bowl of Wheat Thin crackers. Maybe a puzzle piece wouldn’t fit or a game box wouldn’t open. Maybe the game she was playing at pbskids.org would freeze our computer. And then look out – every man for himself. Because holy cow, she’d completely fall apart.
Sometimes she’d just collapse into a pile of tears. Other times there’d be full-blown temper tantrums – tantrums like I hadn’t seen since she was 2. “Who is this kid?” I’d wonder as I picked up the pieces of her meltdown, gathering her into a hug or wiping up the spill that sent her spiraling. This phenomenon lasted about three weeks into the school year.
I figured the behavior was her way of letting loose after holding herself together for seven hours straight. After all, kindergarten is a huge step for kids. They need to behave all day and pay attention all day, and step outside their comfort zones into a classroom full of strangers, and not cry even when they really, really want to because they’re big kids in kindergarten now. My daughter was making it through her days with nary a snag, but she’d unravel when the day was done.
Sure enough, once she got used to the rigors of kindergarten, she was back to her old amiable self. Whew.
Lo and behold, the first few weeks of first grade have been the same way. Not to the same extreme, but there’s definitely been some adjusting going on. Kindergarten’s a scoop of cookie dough ice cream compared to first grade. Goodbye rest time, goodbye play time, hello workbooks and spelling tests. “First grade stinks,” I heard more than once that first week. (She was quoting a book by the same title, in which a little girl misses the comfort of kindergarten and must learn to give first grade a chance. Leave it to me to buy her a book with a built-in mantra for the first week of school.)
Now we’re halfway through Week 3. The surprise eruptions and end-of-the-day hyperactivity have subsided. Things are getting back to normal. And guess what: First grade is awesome. (Just like the book "First Grade Stinks" said it would be.) Thankfully, the back-to-school breakdowns appear to be over. How about your kids? Any after-school meltdowns? After a full day of behaving like angels, are they bouncing off the walls? Monday September 15, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:07AM CST on September 15, 2008
I love to watch my children at the playground. After school on nice days, we stop at the playground before heading home. I join the other parents perched on the wooden beams that separate the rubber mulch of the play equipment from the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Many of the moms know each other and have lots to discuss. I don’t know them yet, so I usually find an empty spot a few backpacks away. I drop what I’m carrying — two coats, a backpack, a lunch box, my keys. I sit and stretch my legs and exhale away the rush of the day. And then I watch my girls. I know I’ve read somewhere that the playground is where we learn many of life’s biggest lessons. I am aware of this as I watch my daughters wait their turn, negotiate with children they don’t know, shyly begin following another child until they’re *almost* playing together. I watch as they try a new piece of equipment, only to fall and try again. I love taking my children to the playground because it’s here that I find one of the most tangible measures of their progress in becoming little people. Last spring my 4-year-old couldn’t step from one shifting-shaking blue pod to another; now she bounds from pod to pod without fear. Last week my 6-year-old hung from the first rung of the monkey bars, just swinging until her skinny little arms couldn’t hold her anymore. This week she reaches for the next bar and grabs it. For my 6-year-old, the after-school excursions are an exercise in ownership; she gets to experience that awesome feeling of owning her school. Remember that feeling — when for some reason you’d have to be at school after hours? And you’d walk the empty hallways, or peer into the office, or skip through the cafeteria, or have the run of the playground? After school my daughter can try new climbers with bravado she doesn’t have in a 20-minute recess shared with 100 other kids. After school she can jump off the rock wall like she saw other kids doing but wasn’t quite ready to try herself. Most of the time, though, she simply hangs upside down, her long blonde hair sweeping against the rubber mulch. She quietly hangs and hangs, for a few seconds, a few seconds more. Then she pulls herself upright, jumps down and finds a new bar from which to swing. Then — still just as serious, still as quiet — she hangs some more. For my 4-year-old, after-school trips are her introduction to Big Kid School. A year away from 5K, she’s excited to join the ranks of this world. She alternates between pretending to be a Big Kid, and watching them in awe. She imitates, adapts, experiments. She watches for cues of how to survive in this kid-owned world. ... (more)Wednesday September 10, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:55AM CST on September 10, 2008
"Mom." My 4-year-old has her accusatory voice on. She’s standing in her closet, her arms crossed in the polyester sleeves of a putrid pink Sleeping Beauty dress. She’s wearing a glittery Tinkerbell tiara on her head, plastic Cinderella shoes on her feet. And she’s royally perturbed at something. "Yes?" I ask her. "Why" — big sigh and shrug from the peanut-sized princess in the closet — "Why have you Not. Taken. Us. to Disney World yet?" "Disney, huh?" Geez, listen to that tone, I say to myself. When did my sweet baby become a bratty tweener? Note to self: No more "Suite Life of Zach and Cody," not even while I’m preparing dinner and there’s nothing else on. "Emma went to Disney World and Grace went to Disney World, and that’s where Gabriella and all the princesses live." I raise my eyebrows and she quickly changes her tone. (So that's why we have eyebrows.) "Please can we go there?" she asks. "Maybe someday." I answer. Maybe someday when I’ve got an extra four grand lying around, or I’m prepared to spend $200/day waiting in long lines and big crowds. Maybe someday when I’m not worried that any more princess exposure will turn you permanently into something pink and polyester. "Maybe someday." It’s impossible to avoid Disney World these days; my children hear of their friends' trips and want to go to. I went once when I was a kid. And I do want to take my children, I do. I just don’t want to do it more than once. So what’s the best age to take children to the Magic Kingdom? Should we try to go soon, when they're 4 and 6 and still awed by Disney princesses? Do we wait until they're older — and taller — so they can go on more rides? Is it really a must-take trip? And is it really as expensive as everybody says? (I was considering combining a trip to California with a trip to Disneyland but according to comments on this Travel Time blog by Diane, it's much better to do the real thing.) Monday September 8, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 1:42PM CST on September 8, 2008
So we’re a week into the school year and everything’s going very well. My daughters like their teachers. We’re adjusting to the weekly routine. We’re (mostly) getting out the door on time. We’re (mostly) remembering our various backpacks, lunch bags, gym bags, gym shoes, signed notes, filled out forms, book rental fees, Scholastic book orders, etc.
And only once or twice a day do I think I might lose it.
Lose my mind somewhere in my calendar amid the soccer practices, work deadlines, swimming lessons and committee meetings …
Lose my mind somewhere in the pile of papers that is now my kitchen counter: Worksheets, classroom schedules, lunch menus, teacher letters, school newsletters, picture order forms, fall fund-raisers …
So yesterday I hung a calendar. This isn’t just any calendar, mind you. “It’s an entire organizational system,” I told my husband, who smirked. I’m going to call it “The Wall,” as in “I don’t know when the cable company’s coming, look on The Wall” or “I think they’re playing on field 14 this Saturday, but check The Wall.” And soon it will have everything I need to get dates and times out of my head, and papers and forms off our counter. ... (more) Tuesday September 2, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:48AM CST on September 2, 2008
I know I’m supposed to feel some sort of relief this morning. Some deeply exhaled “ahhh”: “Ahhh, we made it through summer.” “Ahhh, they’re back in school.” “Ahhh, peace and quiet and routine at last.”
Instead, I feel a little less “ahhh” and a little more “AHHHH!” I don’t know who‘s more nervous about first grade: My 6-year-old or me.
I’m reassuring myself that she has all she needs, from Craypas to computer headphones. Whew. I’m reassuring myself that she at least knows the school this year, when last year for kindergarten everything was new. I’m reassuring myself that her teacher seems nice and enthusiastic and came highly recommended.
And I’m relieved that my silly-dilly 4-year-old decided to wear cowgirl boots and a butterfly-antennae headband into 4K this morning – a fashion statement that made even my nervous 6-year-old roll her eyes and giggle. Sometimes all it takes is one goofy thing to get you through the day.
How did your children do on the first day of school this morning? What about you? Stress factors: What gets you worrying?
Posted by: eyoung at 9:12AM CST on September 2, 2008
Here’s what stresses out my 6-year-old: Helium balloons. While most children scramble for them, my daughter steers clear of them. She’s experienced the stress that comes with being a balloon handler and for her, it’s just not worth it. Constantly worrying that it’s not tied tightly enough around her wrist, that it’s going to float away from her forever, that it might blow out the car window as we’re driving home. "Would you like a balloon?" so many people ask her, at fairs and carnivals, stores and restaurants. "No!" she answers, stricken that strangers would want to inflict such worry onto her otherwise sunny day. Here’s what stresses out my 4-year-old: Band-aids. Specifically their inability to stay on her skin forever. From the minute a Band-aid relieves her injury, it wreaks havoc on her anxiety levels. "Will it come off when I put my tights on?" "Will it come off in the bathtub?" "Will it come off if I sit on it?" "Will it come off when I turn 5?" "Will it hurt when it comes off?" There are tears; there is wailing. I must wash her, dress her, tuck her into bed gingerly. "Don’t peel them, don’t peel them, don’t peel them!" she’ll plead. "Don’t wash them! Don’t wash them! Don’t wash them!" she’ll shriek. "I will not touch your Band-aid," I have to promise her. "I will NOT touch your Band-aid. I promise. Do you trust me?" Here’s what stresses me out: That I will let them down. "Do you trust me?" I ask them. Do you trust me, your mother, to not touch your Band-aids? To not inflict pain? To hold tightly to your balloons? Do you trust me to pick you up from school on time? To get you to the basement in a tornado warning? To catch you when you jump into the pool? Every day, my daughters place their moods, their meals, their little souls in my hands. And in a way that only parents worry, I worry that I will let them down. ... (more)Wednesday August 27, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:54AM CST on August 27, 2008
My house is blue. Blue blue blue. We returned yesterday from a 12-day vacation during which we went to places we've never been, did fabulously fun things, had wonderful and wild adventures, and saw dear family members we rarely get to see. It was a 12-day whirlwind of laughs and rides and waves and museums and crowds and hugs and loud family meals. And now we're home, and our house feels empty, and summer feels over, and we're blue. Blue blue blue. We've got the post-vacation blues. The end-of-summer blues. The missing-our-family blues. And this morning my children awoke with some serious back-to-school blues. I can already hear the refrain for the next five days: "I don't wanna go back to school. (Ba-dum-ba-dum.)" This summer, I gave my children their first real summer vacation, culminating in our first real family vacation. And now they're miserable. (Ba-dum-ba-dum). Plus, my 6-year-old has some serious reservations about starting first grade next week. How do you get your children excited about the new school year? How do you handle new-grade jitters? Tuesday August 12, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:18AM CST on August 12, 2008
She did it! My daughter learned to ride a bike without training wheels! Forget the first day of kindergarten. Forget the first day of day care. Forget the day we first met, back at the old St. Luke’s hospital after a few hours of unpleasantry. THIS was the biggest deal yet. When I saw my 6-year-old balancing her way around our cul de sac — my hero of a husband running next to her in case she toppled — I was unbelievably, ridiculously, gloriously proud. I stood on the sidelines with our 4-year-old and we cheered like maniacs as she breezed by us. "Whoo-hoo!" we hollered. "You’re doing it!!!! Whoooo-hooooo!" For the umpteenth time in her life, I was ready to weep with pride. Teaching a kid to ride a bike without training wheels is no fun at all, as I whined in a Mommy Talk back in June. It’s frustrating and difficult and physically exhausting. Not to mention the fact that you’re basically letting go of your child knowing she has to fall. It’s an exercise in their independence, self esteem, courage, determination. And for us parents, it’s an exercise in letting them go. (It’s also, pant pant, just exercise.) Perhaps this task is what prepares us for the big hurts and falls to come. But back to the bike: We had pretty much given up for the summer. We tried back in June and she and I both got frustrated. She didn’t want anything to do with her bike for over a month. Then out of nowhere on Saturday, she suggested we try again. The whole family headed to a quieter street with a slight decline, where her dad and I took turns running as we held her up. She was close, but still not riding on her own. On Sunday, my husband took her back to that same street. At first, she was even worse than the day before, he said. She was incredibly frustrated with herself. Just when he was ready to pack it in for the day — and probably for the summer — she said to him, "I know I can do this. Let’s try one more time?" And she did it! When they arrived home, she was absolutely giddy. She talked a mile a minute as she recounted the last hour: "And-then-I-told-Daddy-I-wanted-to-try-one-more-time-and-I-even-fell-over-into-the-grass-and-I-was-even-bleeding-but-I-didn’t-give-up-I-just-said-to-keep-going-that-I-knew-I-could-do-it-and-I-did!!!" She did. She conquered her fears. She stuck with it. She fell down and got back up. And she took off — without us. She did it. WHOO-HOOOOO!! What wondrous thing has your kid learned to do lately? Monday August 11, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:24AM CST on August 11, 2008
In a perfect parenting world, no one would be allowed to purchase bunk beds without first attempting to change the sheets. I’m not saying such a test-drive would have prevented us from purchasing bunks for our daughters last spring, but it would have been nice to know exactly what we were getting ourselves into. According to the Consumer Product Safety Commission, thousands of children are injured every year by bunk beds. (This, of course, is no laughing matter. For bunk safety guidelines, click here.) I want to know how many parents are injured every year by bunk beds. Because I have yet to change the sheets without banging my back, wrenching my neck and painfully pulling at least three different muscles in my upper body. Anyone with bunks in their house will agree with me: The top bunk is the worst of the two. I can’t reach it without scaffolding created by the bunk’s ladder and two kiddie chairs. And I have to get IN the bed in order to change the fitted sheet. This means lifting the mattress even as I’m sprawled on top of it. Now that just goes against physics. My daughters like to stand below the bunks as I do this — usually jumping in the pile of dirty sheets and duvet covers — laughing as I huff and puff and try not to swear. This is my bed-changing chant: "I can’t (huff) believe (huff) we bought (huff puff) these stupid (huff puff) bunk beds (groan)." This is my children’s chorus: "Mommy’s going to fall, Mommy’s going to fall." It’s all very fun and adventurous. I’m sure I’m giving them a lifetime of memories. Yet I change the sheets myself for three reasons: 1) I worry that they actually would fall if they tried to change the sheets. 2) It’s just easier if I do it myself. And 3) There’s still a part of me that believes that if the fitted sheet isn’t completely on the bed securely, it will snap off the corner of the mattress, trap my child and suffocate her. This is a fear I’ve had since I read a warning in a baby book: "The crib’s fitted sheet should be securely in place so it doesn’t snap off a corner, trap your child and suffocate her." The bright side There are pros to the bunk beds, too, of course. For one thing, my daughters love them. My 6-year-old likes to escape "upstairs," as we call the top bunk, where she reaches her toes for the ceiling or flops onto her stomach to write misspelled words in a spiral notebook. My 4-year-old daughter likes to pull shut a curtain hung from the bunk above her, creating a cozy cave in which to sleep, perchance to dream of waterparks and Disney princesses. ... (more)Monday August 4, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:35AM CST on August 4, 2008
Serious. I can describe my older daughter in five words — the same five words I used to describe her at 2, 3 and 4. I described her that way in an e-mail to a faraway friend shortly before her second birthday. Now she’s 6, and they describe her still. Serious. Selective. Imaginative. Dramatic. Sensitive. My younger daughter is 4 years old, and I recently realized I did not have adjectives for her. I never summed her up in the same neat package that I could her older sister. And I wondered (moms with not enough to worry about end up wondering, don’t we?): How well do I know her, really know her? Her baby book is mostly empty, except for a few pages I filled out during a streak of motherish ambition. Our video collection of her early days is scant. We were kept so busy by the daily tasks of caring for an infant and toddler that we spent less time simply learning who she was. Even now, moments when it’s just the two of us are few. She’s the Second Child. So often, she lets her sister lead the games, steer the conversations, set the rules. She’s more agreeable by nature; does that make her personality more malleable? I wonder. How well do I know thee, my fair Isabel? The last few weeks, I’ve been watching her closely. Paying her extra attention as I ponder my lack of adjectives to sum up her little self. I’m a writer and a lover of word games. So I tackled this one. Here’s what I observed: On a glorious day — Monday July 28, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 12:18PM CST on July 28, 2008
So last week I wrote about making the most of summer weekends, and I instructed Mommy Talk readers to get their families to Chicago to play in the fountain at Millennium Park. I still think everybody should do that, but there’s also so much to do right here in Racine. Over the past few days, my children and I have been doing some tourist-y things in our own hometown. And we’ve enjoyed every minute of it. Our "Rediscover Racine" adventure actually started a couple of weeks back, when I finally got my children into the Racine Art Museum, 441 Main St. I was a Nervous Nelly mom for most of the visit ("Don’t touch! Don’t lean on that! Not so close!"), but my daughters, 4 and 6, happily obeyed the rules and patiently endured my reminders. They enjoyed studying the various works — we especially liked the woodturned vessels in the Moulthrop exhibit — and I enjoyed their interpretations: "That looks like a mountain goat with blue hair standing on a cloud made of chocolate chips." "That one looks like a giant ocean with a big silly hat floating in it and a bunch of spaghetti noodles next to a mop." (And my youngest, master of stating the obvious: "That looks like a sparkly bracelet" when she saw, you guessed it, a sparkly bracelet.) We don’t visit art museums nearly enough. Our other recent activities included watching Thursday’s Racine.org Cycling Classic race through Downtown, walking to get ice cream from the Sugar Shack Sweet Shoppe, strolling through Downtown stores, and admiring the teeny tiny little microcars at Saturday’s Micros on the Monument event. Then yesterday, we rented a canoe from the Root River Environmental Community Center, or REC, 1301 Sixth St. in Racine. We spent an hour and a half rowing up and down the river, waving at cyclists on the bike paths, marveling at the underside of bridges, pointing out ducks and blue heron, and shrieking when we got stuck in the river’s shallow spots. My daughters were enthralled with stuff they spotted that must have washed down river during the flooding: three bicycles, a tow camper, a scooter, a picnic table. But overall the river was beautiful. If you haven’t done this yet, add it to your must-do list. ... (more)Monday July 21, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 3:23PM CST on July 21, 2008
Winter weekends I waste. I hibernate inside, grumbling about the cold, grousing about the snow. But summer weekends? Summer weekends fill fast for our family. We try to squeeze every drop of summer-y, sunshine-y goodness out of the 12 weekends we get.
So two weekends ago, we went to Chicago for a spur-of-the-moment overnight stay. (Thank you, Expedia, for our fabulously cheap hotel.) We had such a great time that I’m now going to give you six reasons to hop a train and get your family to the Windy City:
1 – Weekend passes on the Metra. Ride as often as you want Saturday and Sunday, and it will only cost you $5 per adult. Kids 11 and younger ride free. That means it only cost $10 for our family to get to and from Ogilvie Station in Downtown Chicago. No traffic. No tolls. No parking garages charging $50/day. (Just make sure you check the train schedule; only a few trains leave from and return to Kenosha each day.) Cost: $10.
2 – Free trolleys. Chicago is so courteous to its tourists. We hopped a free downtown trolley with the intent of traveling quickly to Millennium Park. We ended up skipping our stop and riding the trolley on its full loop around the city, just to see the sights. It was like one of those double-decker bus tours without the fee or the facts – which, when you’re riding with two young children, you probably wouldn’t get to hear anyway. Cost: $0. ... (more) Monday July 14, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:50AM CST on July 14, 2008
So it’s a typical Tuesday and I’m eavesdropping on my kids. I love to do this. It’s why I haven’t gotten rid of our baby monitor yet. As usual this morning, my 6-year-old is instructing my 4-year-old on the wonders of the world. The 6-year-old is using her "teacher voice," as I call it — her very calm, very patient, very s-l-o-w voice that makes it clear that she’s about to explain something incredibly important and complicated to her less-educated little sister. Today’s lesson: The first people ever. "The first people ever were a man and a woman," the 6-year-old instructs. "And they were made by God. And their names were Odd and Eve." Get it? Tee hee. She, of course, knows somewhere in her brain that it’s actually Adam and Eve. But because she’s 6, and because she’s absorbing hundreds of new facts every single week, if not every day, things get a little mixed up sometimes. And I love, love, love how my children can completely mix things up. My 4-year-old horrified herself at bedtime one night a few months ago: I kissed her all over her face during a particularly enthusiastic rendition of The Brady Bunch theme song. (We sing whatever we want at bedtime, lullaby or not). She was elated at this silly display of affection and exclaimed, "Now I’ve got nipples! — Oh! I mean dimples!" And of course, since "nipples" is on the list of Funniest Words Ever for kids, the giggles that ensued were uncontrollable. Bedtime was pushed back a full 15 minutes while we all calmed down. ... (more)Monday July 7, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:36AM CST on July 7, 2008
"Any fire drills, Daddy?" And so it begins: Our daily after-school, after-day care, after-work, dinner table wrap-up. My husband and I learned back in September that getting our daughters to talk about their school day wasn’t going to be easy. "How was school today?" we’d ask. "Fine," said one. "Fine," said the other. "What did you learn?" we’d ask. "I dunno." "I dunno." With one daughter in kindergarten at a new school and the other in a new preschool class, we wanted details: Whom did they sit with at lunch? Whom did they play with at recess? What books did they read, what songs did they sing, how high did they count? We wanted an accounting of every minute, from 7:40 a.m. when we dropped them off, to 3:45 p.m. when I picked them up. Instead we got "fine" and "I dunno." I’ve been a reporter for 11 years, and those conversations with my children early in the school year were among the toughest interviews I’ve done. In my efforts to be an involved parent, I felt like I was interrogating them every evening. Until one day when someone had a fire drill. I’m pretty sure it was Sophie — her first fire drill in kindergarten. She announced the big news at dinner and the conversation took off. From fire drills we got to classroom jobs (She was the line leader! Isabel got to feed the fish!). From classroom jobs, we got to lunch. And from lunch we got to recess and rest time, science and story time. The next day — smarter now — we launched the conversation the same way: "Any fire drills today?" ... (more)Monday June 30, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:36AM CST on June 30, 2008
I had an English teacher once who led us in an exercise of binary taxonomy. (I did not know at the time that we were practicing binary taxonomy, and in fact, had to e-mail my smarter-than-me brother for this term for the purposes of this blog.) For any readers who, like me, are saying “binary taxonomy — what?”: We basically had to come up with different ways to complete this sentence: “There are two types of people in the world ...” “... people who hunt, and people who don’t.” Sadly, I can’t remember the exact point of the exercise — most likely it was a lesson in the limitations of binary taxonomy when it comes to people — but it’s stuck with me. I find myself playing this classification game when I'm frustrated with humanity, bored in a crowd, or hilariously, desperately alone in an argument. ("Yeah, well, there are two types of people in this world: People who care about the dining preferences of others, and people who don't! But fine, we'll go for pizza. Harrumph.") Now that I’m a mom, I find myself practicing binary taxonomy as I try to figure out what kind of mom I’m going to be: There are moms who carry Purell in their purses, and there are moms who don’t. There are moms who will let a baby cry it out, and there are moms who won’t. There are moms who ignore their children when “Lost” is on, and there are moms who don’t. I’m (usually) not judgmental in my classifications, just sorting myself into one side or the other. (Purell? Nope. Crying it out? With both my babies, and it worked like a charm. “Lost”: Denounce me all you want, but I’ve been known to lose my “mom ear” when I’m riveted by TV.) This month’s lesson: There are moms who obsess over dance recitals, and there are moms who don’t.
“Stand up straight, sweetie!” I really thought I’d belong to the latter category here. I mean, I don’t carry Purell. My children rarely match. My 4-year-old hasn’t had a haircut in four months and looks terrible; my hair’s not looking much better. Our car is full of crumbs and Happy Meal toys. Oh, I admit I have my share of odd obsessions: I want their birthday cakes to be masterpieces in icing, their Halloween costumes to be homemade. But dance class? Dance class wasn’t important to me. I enrolled my daughters because my 4-year-old can’t enter a room without pirouetting. I thought they’d have fun. I was relaxed. No big deal. And then came Dance Recital Week. And I became a horrible Dance Recital Mom. 
... (more) Monday June 23, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 4:15PM CST on June 23, 2008
My back aches. I feel muscles in my legs that I didn’t know existed. My right tricep is sore to the touch, and my left shin has a bruise from when I tripped and whacked it on a pedal. I’m learning how to ride a bike all over again, and pardon my negative attitude, but it stinks. This is never going to work. She’s never going to get it. She’s going to be on training wheels forever, and I’m going to need a back brace and lots of ibuprofen. See, I have to vent here because when I’m running along behind her bike, I have to shout all kinds of positive things like "Keep going!" "You’re doing it, you’re doing it!" "You’ve got it!" and "Great job!" It doesn’t matter that she’s not getting it, that she’s not doing it, or that the only reason she’s not on the ground is because I’m holding her up. I can’t very well shout what I feel like shouting when I’m running along behind her bike, which is "Come ON, you are not even trying!" Or "If you don’t get this soon, we are giving up!" Or "Listen, kid, but asphalt doesn’t get any softer as you get older, so tell me before you brake next time. Geez!" I’ve been so exhausted during our training sessions that I haven’t even begun to worry. Worry about the cars that will inevitably whiz by her once we graduate from the deserted parking lot. Worry about the fences and the gates and the trees she could crash into. We’re still in the beginning stage — the stage that’s most frustrating. I know that this is a skill she has to master. (Not only because the other kids her age are whizzing by our house, training wheel-free. But because her father ran over her training wheel with the car, ruining it.) So she pedals and I run — half behind her, half beside her, leaning awkwardly over her, gripping the back of her seat or her shoulders, depending on what online advice I’m following that day. And excuse me, but it is very difficult to run that way. My legs are just long enough to get tangled in each other. I’m not very good at running in an upright position. Make me lean low and to the left? Forget it. Impossible. IMPOSSIBLE. What I need: Someone to run along behind me, shouting encouraging words at me: "You’re doing it! You’re being a super encouraging, positive mom. And you’re showing extraordinary grace and patience. You’re doing it! She’ll be riding alone in no time. Great job!" What else I need: A back brace and a couple more ibuprofen. How old was your child when he or she learned to ride a bike? How exactly do you teach this life skill? Is it worth buying this? Or something like this? Racine Cyclery, 4615 Washington Ave., sells a few stabilizing bars for teaching a child to ride a bike, says sales associate Jason Aho. "The bar attaches to the seat post so (parents) can walk the child while they’re learning to ride," he explains. "You’re basically holding the child up while they’re doing the pedaling." They learn the motions — and you save your back. They range in price from $10 to $20, Aho says. Alas, the bars are out of stock at Racine Cyclery right now, he said (drats). As soon as one comes in, I’m there.
Monday June 16, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 3:19PM CST on June 16, 2008
I'm home today, celebrating the first official day of summer vacation with my daughters ... and they want nothing to do with me. They've enjoyed being on their own schedule all day: getting dressed whenever, eating lunch whenever, playing alone with their toys with nowhere we need to go. So I'm taking advantage of their independence and getting ready for a rummage sale.
I don't have rummage sales often; this is my second ever. I'm more the hold-on-to-everything-because-I-might-need-it-someday type. If it weren't for enterprising neighbors planning a subdivision-wide sale this weekend (and a basement so full I can barely walk into it), I would gladly keep everything stored in plastic bins in our basement. In fact, my mother-in-law was in town a few weeks ago, when I started going through my daughters' baby and toddler clothes. My "Keep" pile was growing larger than my "Sell" pile. I think I scared her. She kept telling me about an episode of "Oprah" she saw on hoarders. "These people saved everything -- everything -- until they couldn't even walk through their living rooms," she kept warning me.
So hoard I won't. But it is tough to get rid of stuff from their baby days. For one thing, my daughters are newly amazed with every old toy I drag upstairs. "Mom, you can't sell this!" my 6-year-old argues. My 4-year-old doesn't argue; she just collapses on the carpet in a very dramatic display of fake tears.
My strategy to weaken their resistance: This week I'm going to leave every old toy in the living room so they can play all they want. Come Friday, they'll be bored with them again. Think that will work?
As for my resistance, I've got no strategy. What I do have: Two bins in the basement marked "SAVE." In them are clothes I know we'll never need, that my daughters will never need, that no one will ever wear again. But I can pick up the outfits in those bins and remember days I'd otherwise forget: "This one came from your great-grandmother. She drove for three hours to get to Wisconsin the day after you were born, and she sat on the couch in our old house just holding you. You were born 84 years apart. ... This one came from your Aunt Margaret, who died shortly after you turned 1. ... And this one? This is the one you wore on that wonderful August day, when the breeze was just right in the back yard and you finally stopped crying long enough to notice the leaves rustling in the old elms."
Those clothes? Those I'm hoarding. But the rest? Priced to sell.
Have you gotten rid of your children's baby things? What have you kept? Any rummage sale tips?
Friday June 13, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 1:33PM CST on June 13, 2008
The clock is ticking. The race is on. Father's Day is Sunday and I've got nothing. NOTHING. (Sorry, husband of mine who reads this blog -- but you're difficult to shop for.) So a plea to any dads out there: Help out all us stumped moms who must buy presents on behalf of our young children. What do you want for Father's Day? Is it really all about grill forks, golf towels and polo shirts? According to a survey of 1,000 folks by Discover Card, more than a third of adults plan to give gift cards for Father's Day this year (a 10 percent increase from last year). More than half (52 percent) aren't planning to buy anything for their fathers. And nearly half of dads surveyed said that $50 or less is an appropriate amount to spend on them. Popular gift ideas included: - Gifts related to a sport or hobby (39 percent of survey respondents said they'd buy in this category.) - Gift certificates (36 percent) - Taking dad to dinner (33 percent) - Music, books, movies or games (32 percent) - Tools or appliances (31 percent) A homemade present and dinner at a restaurant were the most popular gifts fathers hoped to get, according to the survey. (Survey results courtesy of the Associated Press) Dads, share your wish list here. Moms, what are you planning for Sunday?
Wednesday June 11, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:06AM CST on June 11, 2008
So here we are. The last week of kindergarten. My daughter is coming home every night with pieces of her kindergarten room in her backpack: Art projects that have decorated the walls, mainly. I keep them like I kept her first few projects of the year. Look how she’s grown. I drop her off in the mornings and she skips into school. I pick her up every afternoon and I don’t even get a real hug anymore. I might get a half-hug, a smile, the occasional eye roll. Then it’s "I’m SO hungry!" or "Can we go to the playground?" or, if I’m a little later than usual, "Wow, what took you so long?" She walks ahead of me out of the school, definitely not holding my hand. I follow her lead, smiling. My goodness, how she’s grown. She’s memorized sight words and mastered phonemes. She’s practiced her handwriting and learned which way the bumps should face every time she writes "23." She’s sang in three concerts, performed in her first dance recital, rode school buses for field trips, and stood in the lunch line. She’s checked out her own library books, read them! — and remembered to return them on time. She’s counting higher, writing neater, acting braver and standing taller. She’s made a bunch of new friends and mastered a year’s worth of new skills. And I think to myself lately, as I get my half-hug or eye roll when I pick her up: This is not the kid I dropped off nine months ago. It feels like just yesterday that I sat at my desk, a complete wreck for her first day of summer school. She seemed so little, so vulnerable, so timid. She didn’t seem big enough to carry her backpack, much less conquer the hallways of such a big school. Now my timid little 5-year-old is a strong, capable, courageous 6-year-old. She can’t wait for first grade. Is there any teacher more important than one’s kindergarten teacher? I don’t know. This is the teacher who sets the tone for the next five years, the next 11 years, and however many years after that. I interviewed Gifford kindergarten teacher Cheryl Pulda a few weeks ago, after she was named State Teacher of the Year by the Wisconsin PTA. In describing her job, she told me that one of her most important goals each year is to make sure every child loves school. "If they don’t love school, I haven’t done my job," she said. "You have such a long way to go." Such a long way to go. My daughters have been truly blessed by the teachers in their lives — from their first-ever teachers in their day care’s infant room, to the amazingly patient teachers in the toddler room, to the ones who handled tear-filled drop-offs in preschool and 4K. Each year I think their new teachers can’t possibly be as good as the teachers we’ve had so far. And each year, I’m proven wrong. ... (more)Monday June 2, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:07AM CST on June 2, 2008
Most columns on Mommy Talk are from the mom’s perspective. Occasionally we allow the dads to have their say. Today’s Mommy Talk? Courtesy of my newly-6-year-old daughter. She had a rough day last Wednesday — and the day didn’t get any better as the hours passed. By bedtime, she was thoroughly annoyed with being 6. So she composed a little song as she lay in bed feeling grumpy and miserable. She sang it so loud, I could hear her from the kitchen. And because I just can’t stop the Mommy-Talk writer within, I grabbed a pen and notebook and scribbled down the lyrics as she sang them. This morning I thought I’d share her take on life as an un-grown-up. (I figured I should check the song’s origin before giving her credit, so I Googled the lyrics and even called her music teacher — who now thinks I’m a little nuts, by the way.) The tune is the chorus of "Farmer in the Dell." (For those who need help getting it in their heads: "The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell / Hi-ho the derry-o, the farmer in the dell.") So here you go: "Why it’s hard to be a kid," a musical composition by my peeved 6-year-old: "It’s hard to be a kid, it’s hard to be a kid / You always have to drink your milk, it’s hard to be a kid. It’s hard to be a kid, it’s hard to be a kid / You never get to make a choice, it’s hard to be a kid. It’s hard to be a kid, it’s hard to be a kid / You always forget the magic word, it’s hard to be a kid. ... (more) Monday May 19, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:35AM CST on May 19, 2008
Christmas presents for the grandparents? Done! I finished them this weekend. Altogether now: Yay me! But before you roll your eyes at my obnoxiously superior advanced planning, let me just make one thing clear: The Christmas presents to which I am referring? Last year’s. As in Dec. 25, 2007. As in five months ago. See, last November, I got this great idea from Wondertime magazine for a simple project kids can make for grandparents. You know grandparents always love (or pretend to love) handmade gifts from their grandchildren. And my children really like making stuff. But how many handprint-covered vases, paper flower bouquets, and painted-cereal-box letter trays does one mother-in-law really need? So when I saw these towels in Wondertime, I thought, now there’s an easy, useful thing that even I can finish. Now, I had never actually made anything I found in a magazine. I usually just look at them and think, "That’s kinda cute," or "Wow, people have time to make that?" But I knew the grandmas would love these. And I was determined. The project — for those of you who actually are crafty Here’s how it was supposed to work: You ask your child what food Grandma or Grandpa makes that she likes best. Then you ask her how she thinks it’s made. Next, she writes her version of the recipe on a sheet of paper (or you help her) and she draws a picture. You take the paper to a copy shop, have them make an iron-on transfer, and either pay them to transfer the image to a dish towel or iron it on yourself. The whole thing should take about two hours and $10-$15 ($5 for the towel, $5 for the transfer, $5 for them to iron it on). My kids did a great job with their drawings. My youngest wrote adorably absurd recipes for Grandpa’s Eggs and Grandma’s Peanut Butter Cookies. My then-5-year-old wrote equally absurd recipes for Grandma’s Cookies and Grammie’s Deviled Eggs. I chose some simple white dish towels and headed to Kinko’s. I opted to save some money and iron them on myself. That decision? The wrong one. I couldn’t get the stupid iron-on transfer thing to work without scorching the fabric. They told me I was using the wrong fabric. So I bought my own fabric and sewed four dish towels. Still couldn’t get the iron-on to transfer. So I sewed another two towels (since I ruined two in my attempts) and finally paid the copy shop to just do the stupid heat transfer. By this time, I was so annoyed by the whole project that I was going to make those towels no matter what. I was NOT going to let them defeat me. I was going to win. 
... (more) Wednesday May 14, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:34AM CST on May 14, 2008
So for Mother’s Day, JT editors decided to publish some of our favorite Mommy Talk columns in the paper. Janine, Marci and I were each told to bring in a family photograph of ourselves with our kids. I thought, sure, no big deal -- until I went home and opened up my iPhoto library. In three years of digital photographs, there was not a single photo of myself with my two daughters that I would ever want published in the newspaper. In three years, there wasn’t a single photo in which we were all smiling, had our eyes open, weren’t wearing face paint, or otherwise looked somewhat normal. In fact, there were only a handful of photos that even included me. Apparently I’m not the only mom lacking in the family photo department. I shared my woes with several other mom friends. "I have no photos of myself with my children—" I began. "—because I’m always the one with the camera!" they finished. (Well, except for Janine, who is married to a JT photographer. Unfair advantage, I say. She’s got all these gorgeous gallery-worthy baby photographs. I’m crazy jealous.) So on TWO separate nights last week, I grabbed the camera and led (read: dragged) my daughters and husband outside. "You need to take some pictures of us that don’t look stupid," I told my husband. To my girls, I warned: "You need to smile and not act crazy." What happened next you can see in the outtakes. Instructions were either barked by my losing-his-patience husband or muttered from between my gritted, smiling teeth: "Sit down." "Sit still." "Get your fingers out of your ears." "No, we do not need all the ‘High School Musical’ dolls in the picture with us." "OK, now try one with your eyes OPEN. You too, Mommy." "Hey, get back here." "Do you want to be in the newspaper making a goofy face?" "OK, please stop cartwheeling over Mommy." "We will keep doing this until you can sit still and stop acting crazy, and if you miss snack, well, so be it!" ... (more)Monday May 12, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:46AM CST on May 12, 2008
So, fellow moms, remember That Guy? That guy at the bar who had too much to drink and suddenly realized he was head-over-heels for you? That guy who got all mushy and sentimental and honest about his feelings after his sixth or seventh beer? That guy who never realized your eyes were so blue, your lips so full, your words so poetic … until now?
Well, a few weeks ago, I had a flashback to That Guy -- and it came from my 4-year-old daughter. We were at a birthday party in Illinois, having traveled out of town for the weekend to stay with my in-laws. My Isabel had too much to eat -- cake and chips and fruit snacks and ice cream -- and too much fun to handle. Shortly after 8 o’clock, she got a little tipsy on all the activity. I hoisted her onto the kitchen counter for a juice break. Her hair was sweaty from running around with her cousins. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying (she had just fallen and skinned her knee). Her eyelids were heavy. Her dress was wrinkled. She knew that we’d be leaving her cousins and grandparents the next day, and she started to get weepy because she’d miss them. And then she looked at me -- you know, like That Guy always looked at you. "You know," she slurred, "you know I love you, Mommy. I love your hair. I love your face. I love you so much." I giggled and handed her a juice box. She missed her mouth with the straw a few times, poking herself in the cheek, on the chin. She finally managed a sip, and then set the box heavily back on the counter. ... (more)Monday May 5, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:32AM CST on May 5, 2008
"Draft a will" has been on our to-do list for six years, since our first daughter was born. But we still haven’t done it, mainly because we can’t decide on guardians. Who should raise our daughters if something happens to us? It’s a horrible thing to think about in the first place. And then the entire topic, at least for me, is rife with emotion, guilt, judgment, politics, religion, stress, logistics ... For some families, the choice may be easy. For many families, it’s not. All these factors come into play when you’re choosing substitute parents. Do you choose guardians who share your parenting style? Your religion? Whose politics align with yours? Should they live nearby, so your children won’t have to move? Or should they live near other relatives, so your children will be with as much family as possible? Should your first-choice guardians have their own children, or is it asking too much for them to add more to their brood? Surely you can’t dump children on a couple who has none — would they even know what to do? Should potential guardians’ age come into play? Their household income? Do you ask your children for their input? (Our daughters are 6 and 4 — so they’d probably base their decision on who has a pool or the biggest playset.) If the big stuff is all too big or equitable, do you turn to the little stuff: "They let their children go to bed without flossing, so they’re definitely out." "They buy natural peanut butter; there’s no way our kids would eat that." And once you make a decision, you sort of need to clear it with your guardians of choice, right? What if they say no? How does a family recover from that awkwardness? And say you choose your sister instead of your brother- and sister-in-law, or your brother instead of your mother — do you tell the rejects that you’ve chosen someone else? Or do you just wait for tragedy to make your decision known, adding insult to injury? See what I mean? Emotion, guilt, judgment, religion, stress, logistics. This is why we don’t have a will. What about you? Tuesday April 29, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:11AM CST on April 29, 2008
Our first outing with our first-born six years ago was to JCPenney’s to look for something baby-related. I don’t remember what we needed, but I do remember struggling to get her into the Baby Bjorn. I was a sleep-deprived, inexperienced, terrified new mom. All I could picture was me dropping our newborn onto the hard pavement of the parking lot. From that day on, our hands-free baby carrier was never hands-free when I wore it. I kept one hand beneath her little round Bjorn-covered butt, holding her through the carrier just in case she started to fall through. The first time I was paged at work by her day care, my imagination jumped to the worst possible scenarios: They’ve lost her. She choked. A fire. She’s been abducted. Never mind that I rationally knew none of these had happened. I could visualize the worst, so a little part of me panicked. I termed these lapses in rational judgment my new "disaster daydreams," and I still have them. Apparently, having children kicked my imagination into overdrive. It’s like labor changed a channel in my brain to "Trauma: Life in the ER." No matter how calm the rest of me, a little part of me is always, always freaking out. Slam-bam On Saturday, during our once-a-year weekend in Wisconsin Dells, my oldest daughter battled a water slide and the slide won. She flipped over in a tube slide and banged her head so hard, I could hear it at the bottom, despite the roar of water and hundreds of shouting children around me. Within seconds, her forehead swelled into a massive, hard, angry lump. Even the lifeguard started crying when she saw it ("Oh my god!" she kept saying, forgetting I could hear her. "Oh my god!"). The lump continued to swell as we were rushed to the waterpark’s on-site EMT. ... (more)Tuesday April 22, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:33AM CST on April 22, 2008
My almost-6-year-old wants to be a surgeon when she grows up. She selected this career last year, and has been obsessed with all things hospital-related ever since. She wants to watch hospital shows on TV, look up pictures online, check out hospital books from the library. And she really, really, really wanted to see the inside of an operating room. On Sunday, she got her chance. We went to the open house at Wheaton Franciscan-All Saints’ new Cardiovascular Institute, 3801 Spring St. My daughter spotted the photo and article in Saturday’s Journal Times and demanded that we go. I wasn’t sure how much we would see, but it was amazing. We got to see a catheterization lab, two operating rooms, nursing stations, patient rooms, ICU rooms and more. She wandered around the rooms, studied monitors, touched a hospital bed, watched a video of an open heart surgery, even handled surgical tools. She met nurses, technicians and doctors. Thanks to Wheaton Franciscan for this awesome educational opportunity for my daughter, and to all the staff who answered our questions and took time to explain their jobs to a 6-year-old. She’s still talking about it. It was the highlight of her weekend, probably her whole month. Plus, my 4-year-old got to meet Miss Wisconsin -- “Look, she’s a real princess!” -- and eat free treats. So she was happy too. I just thought it was a really nice thing and was soooo happy she finally got to see an OR. (I had called the hospital a month or so ago asking if they offer tours for interested kids. Second-grade classes go on field trips to the hospital, but otherwise no.) Do your children have any obsessions? How do you nurture their interests? And where have you had some of your favorite unexpected/unconventional learning experiences?
Easy ways to celebrate Earth Day with your children
Posted by: eyoung at 8:48AM CST on April 22, 2008
Trying to raise eco-friendly kids? Today is Earth Day — the perfect day to kick off some eco-friendly family habits. Here are some ideas from various wire services and Web sites, along with a recipe for easy, yummy Earth Day treats (scroll down to bottom). Find more stories about going green here. Then share your own tips: How are you teaching your children to respect and care for their environment? START an Earth Day tradition: • Plant a tree, maybe one for each of your children. Your children can enjoy watching "their tree" grow from year to year. • Pick up garbage. Visit a playground, park or other place that you frequently visit as a family and clean it up. Make a game of picking up trash: How much can you find? • Make a trip to one of Racine’s secondhand stores. See what gently-used treasures you can find in terms of children’s books, clothes and toys. Explain to your children that buying used items can save both resources and money. ... (more)Monday April 14, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:50AM CST on April 14, 2008
"You should carry me now because soon I won’t want you to carry me anymore." The sage advice comes from my oldest daughter, who is almost 6 but still loves it when I carry her upstairs to bed or carry her downstairs in the morning. At 36 pounds — technically not even heavy enough for her booster seat — I can easily lift her into my arms and take her where we want to go. She especially makes this request on days when we haven’t had enough "snuggle time," as she’s termed it. ("We didn’t get time to SNUGGLE! You need to carry me!") I oblige. My youngest daughter turned 4 two weeks ago. I still carry her around, too. Not all the time, of course. But when the opportunity presents itself, I’m quick to accept. I carry her from the car into her day care center. I carry her back to the car when her day is done. And I usually carry her into her sister’s school, as the parking lot has been treacherous, icy, flooded — no place for skipping in pink sparkle shoes. My youngest is only 32 pounds. I could toss her in the air if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. I want instead to carry her. To have her wrap her little legs around my waist, her little arms around my neck. I want her to bury her face into my shoulder so I can protect her little cheeks from the wind and the cold. And when my girls are tired or crabby or just plain worn out from the world, nothing comforts them like being scooped up and held against my chest. ... (more)Monday March 31, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 1:53PM CST on March 31, 2008
"Your dad was funny, right, Mom?" We’re halfway to school and my 5-year-old is alone in the back seat. I glance at her in the rearview mirror. She’s looking out the window at the frozen fields and stubborn snow. "What made you wonder that?" I ask. "All the pictures of him," she says. "He looks like he was funny." I know which pictures she’s talking about. There’s a photo on our fridge of my dad in mismatched socks, making a goofy face in our old back yard. There are two photos at my mom’s house of him in freezing Lake Michigan. In one, he’s doing a handstand in the water, so all we see are two silly looking feet. And an old photo from my brother’s babyhood shows my dad making an even goofier face and wearing baby booties on his ears. "He wasn’t just funny," I tell my daughter, feeling the grief build all over again. I push it down with a half-laugh and say in my own silly voice, "He was hi-LAR-ious." We drive a few more blocks. Another glance tells me she’s looking at me now — studying my eyes in the rearview mirror. "You miss him, right, Mom?" she asks matter-of-factly. "Yep," I say lightly. Every minute of every day. ... (more)Friday March 28, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 4:41PM CST on March 28, 2008
So my 5-year-old puked all over our living room sofa on Sunday night. (Bridget, you may not want to read this, considering your new-sofa bliss.) First thing Monday morning, I called Company X, our warranty service provider, which I won't name because I worry I'll void the warranty. When we bought the sofa two years ago, we purchased the five-year fabric protection plan. Our children were 1-1/2 and 3-1/2 at the time. And as any parent of young children knows, those are prime ages for needing fabric protection: You’ve got Play-doh, potty training, grape juice, marker, chocolate syrup, squishy blueberries, oatmeal, Elmer’s glue, glitter paint, mud … and oh yeah, vomit. The fabric protection plan promised to fix all these and more – and if repair wasn’t possible, then it would be replaced. So here I am, sitting on hold with Company X five days later, waiting to hear if they received my fax. See, first you have to call them and give them all the information over the phone. Then they give you a claim number. Then you have to fax them copies of everything you got when you purchased the sofa, including proof of purchase, proof of delivery, dates, cost, etc., along with that claim number. “You need to fax that within 30 days,” the representative told me. Like I’d want to sit on vomit for 30 days. So I faxed everything first thing Tuesday morning. I called Tuesday afternoon to see if they received it. They hadn’t. I called Wednesday to see if they had received it. “We’ve probably got it, but it needs to be scanned into our computer system, and that hasn’t happened yet,” the representative said politely. “Call back on Friday.” So it’s Friday and I’m sitting on hold. For 18 minutes now. At home, I’m sitting on towels covering six-day-old vomit. And every time I call Company X, I hear this: “If a service technician has already been to your home, please allow 14 business days for our response." Fourteen days? I haven't even gotten to the technician-at-my-home part. So I could soon be sitting on 20-day-old vomit??? I don’t know why this surprises me. But I guess I’m blogging to get some feedback. Have you purchased furniture protection plans? Have you ever tried to use them? Are we just idiots for buying this thing? I could have spent the $69 paying someone to clean the vomit off my sofa, and I’d be relaxing on vomit-free cushions by now. I guess I’m an idealist. Because I pictured the conversation with Company X going more like this: Me: “Hello. My daughter puked all over our sofa last night.” Helpful Warranty Representative: “Yuck. That is gross. We wouldn’t want that to seep into your cushions and forever alter your seating conditions. We’ll be right there.” Me: “Thanks!” Doorbell: “Ding-dong.” Naive, aren't I? OK, it’s now been 22 minutes. I’m hanging up and calling back. That’s another idiotic strategy I employ when I think I’m doing the smart thing. Oh wait, they answered!! Glee and joy!! They received my information -- more glee and joy!!! And I should hear from a technician within seven to 10 business days. Then it will be up to 14 more business days before I know the next step. Lovely. Fine. FINE. I'm sure someone else in my family will vomit in the meantime. I'll just have to be sure to aim them at the sofa. - Elizabeth
Wednesday March 26, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 12:37PM CST on March 26, 2008
My baby girl turned 4 this morning. She’s actually turning 4 at exactly 12:45 p.m. That’s when she entered this crazy world -- a bald, pink, smushy little thing, 6 pounds, 13 ounces, 19 inches long. No one really asks anymore, but she’s now 32.5 pounds and 40 inches long. I’m feeling everything moms feel when their youngest turns another year older: I’m proud, nostalgic, awestruck, emotional, a little sad, a little teary. I’m definitely feeling another year older myself. And today I’m the one who is clingy, pulling her into a hug every time she dances past me. “Mo-o-o-o-m,” she says, mimicking the annoyance she hears from her big sister. “Nope, you don’t get to say ‘mo-o-o-o-m’ like that yet,” I tease her, and squeeze her even tighter. I’m also feeling a bit of whiplash that it’s gone so fast. I’m like one of the old-timer moms now. No more toddler clothes, she’s in the “little girls” sizes. No more quarterly trips to the photo studios; the pictures on my desk are over a year old. The baby books are long forgotten; I can’t even find a birth certificate for her 4K registration. I’m a “been there, done that” mom. There are no more “What to Expect” books to answer my questions. She’s officially no longer a toddler, so we’ve graduated to more serious parenting books, which I’ve pretty much abandoned anyway. The formative years might be over, and I’m a little panicked: What didn’t I do? What did I miss? What have I done wrong? I’ve passed the stage where my children can get away with things just because they’re cute. Now we’re to this new stage -- this new stage of parenting KIDS, not babies. Raising people. Letting them be who they are. And despite my nostalgia, this new stage is very cool. ... (more)Tuesday March 25, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:32AM CST on March 25, 2008
My "Mother's Instinct" battled my gut instinct Friday night, and my gut instinct nearly won. My almost 4-year-old woke up vomiting Friday night, throwing up everything she'd eaten all day. It was AWFUL. It was disgusting. It was an awful, disgusting horrible mess -- wait, must pause now because I'm getting a little sick just typing about it ... (OK, deep breath, new paragraph). Anyway, let's just say it was really unpleasant. And at one point in our evening o' fun, I'm in the bathroom with my baby girl, and she's throwing up, and I have to step away. I have to call for my husband to take over because I'm about to get sick myself. The heaving, the sounds, the smell -- there was no way I was going to make it even one more second. So I stepped away. What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother steps away from her own child mid-vomit?? And then, just as my husband is squeezing by me to reach our sick kid, I'm OK again. I'm back at her side, holding her shoulders and telling her she's going to be OK. Mother's instinct defeated gut instinct after all. But for the rest of the night, I was completely nauseous. I hate vomit. I hate vomit, and I hate bloody noses. When we had our first baby in 2002, I told my husband that I would cut fingernails if he took bloody noses. We should have negotiated on some of the other gross aspects of parenting back then, too: "I'll handle middle-of-the-night vomit, if you handle public places vomit." "You take all boogers and snot-filled sneezes, but if they ever get head lice, that job will be mine." "Deal." ... (more)Monday March 10, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 11:13AM CST on March 10, 2008
It’s 27 degrees outside today, but inside my head, it’s summer. I’m thinking ahead to lazy summer days running through the sprinkler, swinging on the playset, lounging on the deck, riding bikes around the neighborhood. I can taste the lemonade and popsicles already. And I can’t wait. This year, I’m determined to give my children a real summer vacation. Every year since they were born, they’ve been in day care year-round. The first few summers were easy; they didn’t know any better. The last two summers have been more difficult. My daughters caught on that their neighborhood friends were staying home all day, while they were forced into the regular old daily grind. I’d pull out of the driveway in a chorus of moans and groans. And “Well, Mommy has to work, sweetie” is a lame excuse to a 5-year-old. Now that my oldest is in elementary school, I want my daughters to have a real summer break. So I’m trying to piece together a weekly schedule that gives them at least three days at home. Since registration for many area summer programs is in March or April, I’ve had to fast-forward my brain a bit to finalize our plans. But by golly, I think I’ve got it. Two days a week, I’ll take the youngest to day care and the oldest to her at-school summer program. Then they’ll spend one day with grandma, one day with a sitter, and one day with me. (Yay!) As long as I remember what day it is, so I know which kid to take where and with whom, we should be fine. What do you do for child care over the summer months? If your kids stay home all day, do they get bored? If they must go to day care or a summer care program, how do you sell them on it?? And I know this has come up on Mommy Talk before, but I can’t find the old posts: What’s the going rate around here for full-time child care in your home? Maybe if we're all thinking summer, the warmth in all our heads will melt the ice in all our driveways. "Summer, summer, summer, summer ...."
Tuesday March 4, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 2:33PM CST on March 4, 2008
Last year’s kindergarten registration was a huge day for me. My oldest was heading off to kindergarten, and my husband and I had stressed and debated about where to send her. We visited Catholic schools, Lutheran schools, Montessori schools, the magnet schools. In the end, we enrolled her in the public school in our district, and it’s been a joy ever since. Now it’s time for the next crop of nervous parents to sign up their children for the 2008-2009 school year. The Racine Unified School District will hold registration for 4- and 5-year-old kindergarten from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Wednesday. (The facts: Register your child at his or her attendance area school. Bring the child’s birth certificate or baptismal record, proof of address, and the child’s immunization record. Questions may be directed to 262-631-7194 or 262-619-4563.) I thought this was as good a time as any to ask parents to share their kindergarten stories. Did you "shop around" for a kindergarten, or just head to your area school? Who had more trouble adjusting to kindergarten -- your child, or you? Are you happy with the school you chose? I also thought this was a fine time to share the one tip that made all the difference in my daughter’s adjustment to kindergarten. If your child will be starting 5-year-old kindergarten in the fall, and will be attending a Unified school, consider enrolling him or her in Unified’s summer school/enrichment program. ... (more)Monday February 18, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:42AM CST on February 18, 2008
My mom -- who is a very wise woman and an outstanding mother to three now-adult children -- always says the same thing about my baby/toddler days. I’ve heard it a thousand times: “Elizabeth, if you were my first child, you would have been my last.” Apparently I was not an easy child. I was colicky, finicky, picky, clingy, persnickety and pretty much all things -ickety. I didn’t sleep well. I bit my older sister. I did things like throw my orthopedic shoes out the car window on a mountainous Pennsylvania highway at age 2. I threw tantrums like no child she had ever seen. Once, during a particularly vicious fit, it took her two hours to drive the 12 blocks home from Storyhour because I kept getting out of my seat, climbing into the front seat and grabbing the steering wheel. And when it came time for me to go to school, I cried so loudly and clung so ferociously that she enlisted a friend to take me to kindergarten and first grade. I can remember to this day being buckled into somebody else’s back seat against my will, screaming for my mother as we pulled out of the driveway. My older sister, of course, had been a perfect baby -- the only thing that convinced my mother to gamble on a third child. My easy-going, always-happy, “I-took-him-to-the-pediatrician-because-he-never-cried!” baby brother was her reward for the years she had to deal with me. So when I had my first baby 5-1/2 years ago, and this baby ended up being more like me than I would have preferred, my mother was very supportive. She relieved me on mornings that I hadn’t slept all night. She nodded with recognition at my tales of woe. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the first few tantrums. And because she’s a good mom, she didn’t revel in the karma/justice of it all. At least not while I was in the room. I am now the mother of two fabulous daughters -- one 5-1/2, one 3-1/2. But I knew from the first week with my first baby that she would be my Difficult Child. She was my karma. My own Mini Me. ... (more) Monday February 11, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 2:33PM CST on February 11, 2008
So I admit it: I rolled my eyes when the press release first came across my desk. “High School Musical -- The Ice Tour.” Are you kidding me? I thought. Who on earth is going to pay $15 a seat or more to see a faux-Troy and faux-Gabriella spin around on ice skates??? After all, my daughters spend way too much energy already talking about Gabriella, singing like Gabriella, pointing out people who look like Gabriella. And while my almost-6-year-old likes the Disney characters, my almost 4-year-old LIVES the characters. She names all her dolls Gabriella. She wants to go to Albuquerque to find Gabriella. She will only jump into a pool if she’s pretending to be Gabriella (who works as a lifeguard in “High School Musical 2”). She’s got two singing Gabriella dolls and one singing Troy doll, who end up naked in the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus far more often than I’d like. (Of course, she’s too young to realize how inappropriate this is -- she just can’t find the dolls’ swimming suits -- but I want to shout: “Get some clothes on those dolls or everybody’s out of the hot tub! NOW!!”) So no way was I going to take my impressionable young daughters to an over-hyped, over-marketed, over-priced ice show. No way. ... (more)Tuesday February 5, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:41AM CST on February 5, 2008
I think I’ve said this already on the Mommy Talk blog, but my 5-1/2-year-old is a wicked Uno player. She’s the kind of kid who drops three "Draw 2" cards in a row, and follows them with a "Wildcard Draw 4." Last week, during a snowday Uno marathon, her killer strategy repeatedly killed my chances at victory. I was 2-11. In one game, she called "Uno!" and won before I had the opportunity to put down a single card. I welcome losing. Finally, I’m really losing. When she says "Wanna play Uno?", I say "Game ON!" It has been a tough five years for my competitive spirit. I love games, and I always loved game nights when I was growing up. My siblings, parents and I would engage in hilarious but brutal battles of Pictionary, Scrabble, Monopoly, Balderdash, Trivial Pursuit. Then I became a mom — a mom to two daughters. And I gave up my beloved Monopoly piece for the plastic crown in Pretty Pretty Princess. I also had to shelve my need to win. I don’t believe in letting kids win every game, but I do believe in letting them win enough games to feel good about themselves. I believe in letting them win the last game before bedtime so we’re all happy for the walk upstairs. And I also believe in letting them win just so we can stop playing already. ... (more)Monday January 28, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 9:51AM CST on January 28, 2008
When my first daughter was 1-2 months old, our pediatrician gave us our first real assignment. In addition to our daily chores of feeding, diaper changing, leaping clear of projectile spit-up and counting poops (yes, this is something many first-time parents actually do), we were now supposed to encourage our daughter to turn her head to the left. Apparently we were over-stimulating the right side of her world. Her neck muscles were really good at turning her head to the right, but they weren’t so great at turning her head to the left. “Dangle toys on her other side so she looks that way too,” our pediatrician told us. “Make her look to the left.” We didn’t want a one-way kid, so we followed orders. To the left. To the left. Got it. That daughter, I am proud to report, is now 5-1/2 years old and looks both ways with ease. She also rolls her eyes with ease. I’m not sure if that’s related. ... (more)Wednesday January 16, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 10:37AM CST on January 16, 2008
There's only so much "High School Musical" one mom can take. Eventually the CD needs to come out of the minivan so I can hear something new. Problem is, my grown-up ears have also grown weary of the other children's music in our collection. I need some suggestions. Calling all parents: What are your favorite children's albums? Who are your favorite artists for kids? Thursday January 10, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 8:59AM CST on January 10, 2008
My oldest daughter, age 5-1/2, has decided she wants to be a surgeon. Of course, she's 5-1/2, so we're not enrolling her in pre-med studies yet. But this month, that is her career of choice. She's fascinated with all things medical. (In fact, her first choice would be to actually have surgery, so deep is her desire to get in an operating room. "I just want to see what it looks like!" she enthuses. My husband argues that this is not a valid reason to A) undergo surgery, or B) choose a career: "Watch, we'll put her through med school and she'll take one step in an OR, say 'Oh, so this is how it looks in here' and then quit.") But joking around about her future easily leads to serious thought: How will we pay for it? We're taking some steps now, but we wonder if we're doing enough. How are you saving for your child's education? Do you have Coverdell Education Savings Accounts? EdVest? Do you ask grandparents for financial gifts instead of presents at birthdays or holidays? What smart steps are you taking now to make them smarter later?
Tuesday January 8, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 2:04PM CST on January 8, 2008
I am not a well-prepared parent. Yesterday afternoon, when the tornado warning sent us into our basement, I grabbed six things: My two daughters, my cell phone, my home phone, a quilt and, inexplicably, a box of Lucky Charms. No water. No sturdy shoes. No flashlight. Nope, I grab the most sugary cereal in the pantry and a blanket so we have something to sit on. Plus, we don’t have a TV down in our basement, or even a radio. So I waited to hear from my husband, who was working downtown, when it was safe to head back upstairs. At the time, I was just trying to keep my kids from completely freaking out. My daughters, ages 5-1/2 and 3-1/2, were practically in hysterics. They started worrying in the school parking lot when we heard the warning over the radio. The whole drive home, they were crying “Is that a TORNADO?!” at every dark cloud in the sky. Once they calmed down (who knew Scrabble would be such a hit with kids who can’t read yet?), I was able to look at us. None of us even had shoes on. Had a tornado hit our house, we would have had to climb out of the debris in bare feet and short sleeves, or sustain ourselves with Lucky Charms. I’ve since talked to parents who are much more prepared, not just for a tornado but for all disasters and emergencies: NOAA weather radios, bottled water, extra clothes, canned food, first aid kits, etc. I’ve always got this stuff on my “Should Do” list: “Should get a fire escape ladder for the girls’ bedroom.” “Should get a LifeHammer tool and first aid kit for the car.” “Should get a NOAA weather radio.” Maybe it’s time I get my act together and actually do some of this stuff. Especially now that I’m a parent responsible for little people. I mean, Lucky Charms and bare feet are OK for me, but for them? The NOAA radio is first on my list; we can’t hear tornado sirens in our house. How prepared are you for emergencies? Do you have a disaster survival kit? Fire escape plan? Auto emergency kit? Wednesday January 2, 2008
Posted by: eyoung at 12:02PM CST on January 2, 2008
So it's FREEZING outside and our kids are stuck indoors for most of the next three months. Ugh. I'm getting cabin fever just thinking about it. How do you keep your kids entertained and active during winter? What are your favorite kid-friendly winter activities? And for days when it's just too cold out there: Where are your favorite indoor escapes, where kids can get some exercise despite the walls that surround them?
Thursday December 27, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 1:58PM CST on December 27, 2007
Santa was very good to my daughters. He must determine his "Naughty" and "Nice" lists with information gathered over the past 12 months, and not just the past three weeks. Otherwise, my cranky kids would have gotten lumps of coal in their stockings instead of all the gifts under the tree. Oh, the whining, the complaining, the pouting, the bickering. Groaning at every new responsibility — whether it was wrapping gifts for relatives or cleaning up for company. Snapping at strangers because they cut in line. Grumbling when stores closed too early, when traffic moved too slow, or when inventory was obviously insufficient for demand … I mean, why advertise a sale if you don’t have enough in stock??? OK, yes. Those last examples of bad behavior — all the examples, actually? That was all me. For the last few weeks, I’ve been annoyed at my children’s new rebellion. “What on earth is the matter with you guys?” I felt like yelling at my 5- and 3-year-olds. “Don’t you WANT Santa to bring you any presents??” What I forgot was that the holidays take their toll on everybody; children are no exception. Wednesday December 12, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 10:27AM CST on December 12, 2007
Santa’s a little stumped about what to get my children for Christmas this year. My 5-year-old has a pretty detailed wish list, but her dreams are based in a mythical world where a laptop computer and a hot tub are suitable gifts for children. And every time I ask my 3-year-old what she wants Santa to bring, she just looks around the room to find a toy she already has and puts "new" in front of it. ("I know, I know! A NEW singing Gabriella doll!" "Oooh, a NEW ‘Bambi’ video!" "I want a NEW puzzle that’s just like this one!") I usually don’t have a problem finding gifts my daughters will like. But this year, my husband and I are having a tough time passing on their wish lists to relatives. We just keep wandering down the toy aisles, paging through the catalogs, searching through the Sunday inserts. Our daughters either already have it, have something like it, would never really play with it, or it involves an air pump and adding on to the house.(We’ve also got an informal ban on fashion dolls that are dressed like little plastic prostitutes, which eliminates close to half of what’s on the shelves.) I certainly hope Santa's having better luck than we are. What do your kids want for Christmas this year? What toys have become favorites in your home? Oh, and if you're stumped like we are, how about this: FAO Schwarz offers a doll house custom-made to match your own home, right down to the fabric on the living room sofa. It starts at $10,000. See it here. - Elizabeth Monday December 10, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 2:11PM CST on December 10, 2007
So we’re standing in the middle of Crate & Barrel Saturday afternoon, and my 3-1/2-year-old is getting an impromptu dental exam by our fabulous hygienist. We bumped into her near home textiles and I couldn’t stop myself. I started so strong — "Hi! How are you? Great to see you! Oh, is this your little one?" — but then I did something reprehensible. I peppered her with work-related questions, which is bad enough under normal circumstances but becomes unforgivable when both parties are at Mayfair on a crowded Saturday trying to do some Christmas shopping in spite of their tired, cranky children. I just couldn’t help it. "I think she might have a cavity," I fretted, motioning to my daughter (who was by then trying to hide in our package-laden double-stroller). "Would I be able to see it on her tooth? What would it look like? Do I need to bring her in right away?" And our hygienist — who is just so nice, and so helpful, and has been absolutely wonderful with our children — offered to take a quick look right then and there. ... (more)Monday November 26, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 11:09AM CST on November 26, 2007
The National Education Association polled more than 2,500 teachers last spring, asking what gift they most enjoyed receiving from students. Forty-eight percent chose "hearing the words 'thank you' or receiving a thank you card." Apparently a short note from parents showing their appreciation — especially when tucked inside a card created by the child — goes a long way. Receiving a spa or other gift certificate came in second place, with 30 percent of respondents choosing this option. Other possible gifts included an appreciation breakfast or lunch (15 percent) or a plant (6 percent). As for apples? Only 1 percent of teachers said an apple would top their wish list. As a parent who is extremely grateful for the loving, watchful care my daughters have received from their day care, preschool and now elementary school teachers, I try to show our appreciation with small gifts at the holidays. My first year as a mom, I gave chocolates to my daughter's three day care teachers — never considering just how much candy they must get at the holidays. Whoops. Since then, we've opted for gift cards, restaurant gift certificates, movie passes, etc. Teachers, what gifts do you most appreciate receiving? What gifts would you rather parents and children didn't send? I surveyed a few friends who are teachers and here's the consensus: No coffee cups, desk trinkets or homemade goodies, please. With 20-some students, those types of gifts make for a cluttered desk and a lot of calories. Gift cards are always appreciated. although some said gift cards are so impersonal. Most answered that they never expect a gift, so it's always a nice surprise. Parents, what gifts do you give, if any? Do you also try to thank art, music and gym teachers, bus drivers, office staff? Do you tip your baby-sitters and day care providers?
Wednesday November 14, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 9:55AM CST on November 14, 2007
So we’re what, three months into the school year? So far, I’ve hawked goodies to friends, family, neighbors and co-workers for three separate fundraisers. And there’s at least two more fundraisers just down the road. I love my daughter’s school, so I have no problem doing our part to support her education. But my goodness, there are a lot of fundraisers. While we’ve been doing a lot of selling, we’ve also been doing a lot of buying. So far this school year, in my very small neighborhood, children have come to the door selling pizzas, pies, Pocket Peeler coupon books, cookie dough, popcorn, Christmas wreaths, candy bars and gift wrap. There’s been pledge sheets for walk-a-thons, bowl-a-thons and read-a-thons. It’s hard to say no – especially when you’ve been on the other side of the door, begging yourself. So we’ve purchased a lot of pizzas, pies, cookie dough, coupon books, caramel corn and candy bars. Our freezer is quite full. How do you handle all these fundraisers? How much do you end up buying?
Monday November 12, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 9:18AM CST on November 12, 2007
After almost two months of meeting every deadline for book rental fees, lunch money fees, permission slips, family homework assignments and all the other responsibilities that come with being a kindergarten parent, I finally did it. I forgot something. I forgot the fruit. All of the students in my daughter’s class needed to bring in a can of mixed fruit for an upcoming event. I knew this. I’m sure I wrote it down on something that resembled a shopping list. But I completely forgot — until my daughter reminded me at bedtime one night last week that she needed to bring it in "tomorrow." Of course. ... (more)Monday November 5, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 9:18AM CST on November 5, 2007
So there’s this room in our house that I absolutely love. It has a large, arched window that fills our entire second floor with sunlight. I love the paint color on the walls. I love the curtains on the gorgeous window. I love the entire space. But I cannot go in there. Why can’t I go into this room, arguably the best room in our house? Because I cannot fit in it. Because it has been completely taken over by inflatable toys. ... (more)Monday October 8, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 9:35AM CST on October 8, 2007
Whenever I meet a new mom at a birthday party, school event or wherever, I always end up asking if they work outside the home. I’m not trying to be nosy — and I’m certainly not trying to get into any working mom/stay-at-home debates. I’m just seeking out new strategies. See, I’ve been a mom for more than five years now and, except for two maternity leaves, I've always worked outside the home. Yet despite all that practice, there are still those days when I feel like I’m losing my mind. ... (more)Thursday October 4, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 12:34PM CST on October 4, 2007
This isn't really a Mommy Talk issue, but if you give me a chance, I'll turn it into one ... So I was at my dentist this morning. After my cleaning, the hygienist scribbled some notes on my chart and left the room. I didn't have a chance to ask about my gum/tooth health, so I figured I'd just look at the chart and read the scribble while I waited for the dentist. I was later scolded by another staff member for looking at the chart. I was told it was unethical and rude for me to do so. I was surprised (and embarrassed, since I was scolded about my behavior in front of other patients in the waiting room). When you're at the doctor or dentist, do you ever look at your own chart? When I take my daughters to their pediatrician (see, told you I'd make it a Mommy Talk issue), I've occasionally peered at the chart after the nurse left to write down their weight and height in their little red "Success by Six" books (which I can never find in the diaperbag/my purse until the nurse has left the room). Another time, I had forgotten one of three antibiotics that my older daughter is allergic to, so I peered in the chart to see which one. So was I wrong to do that?
Monday October 1, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 3:04PM CST on October 1, 2007
I don’t know why, but I still have subscriptions to several parenting magazines. At 5 and 3, my children are past the baby stages where I need to read about developmental milestones and toilet training triumphs. I don’t have time to make my own Halloween table decorations. I rarely follow any of the "Guaranteed!" discipline advice. And while I think they’re very cute, I’m never actually going to stencil my children’s silhouettes onto porcelain plates. Yet I continue to subscribe, and end up reading them in bits and pieces. I seem to have time for just three main genres of parenting-magazine-lit: 1 — lists of new children’s books; 2 — embarrassing tales about other people’s children; And 3 — every story of unimaginable tragedy that I can get my hands on. ("I ran over my child with my SUV!" "My son was crushed by our automatic garage door!" "My daughter fell out of a second-story window!") It’s this third category that raises my anxiety level with every page I turn. Just as I watch crime shows, then can’t go to sleep without checking the closets, I apparently read these articles just to freak out that something similar might happen to my kids. So of course, it becomes my duty as their mother to keep them informed of the latest safety do’s and don’ts. ... (more)Monday September 17, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 1:24PM CST on September 17, 2007
It’s dinnertime and Sophie, my picky eater, doesn’t like the menu. She doesn’t want any fish. She doesn’t want any rice. She only wants vegetables — and a piece of buttered bread. My husband has declined her request for the bread, insisting that she start with what’s on the table. So my Sophie — my serious, sensitive, oh-so-smart, oh-so-stubborn, 5-going-on-15-year-old Sophie — turns to a higher power. She folds her hands, squeezes her eyes shut and says, "God, my Dad won’t give me bread." She pauses (I assume to give Him time to respond), then opens her eyes and turns back to her dad. "Do you know what God said?" She’s very serious, and is giving my husband a look that says he should know better. "God said" — and she takes on a deep, chanting voice — " ‘Listen to God’s rule, and do God’s rule. Give your children some bread when they need some and want some.’ " She couldn’t have sounded more like a Catholic priest if she had been wearing robes and holding her hands upward as she blessed the bread before Communion. And that is just one of many instances in which the Almighty has sided with my children. ... (more)Monday August 20, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 2:49PM CST on August 20, 2007
So??? Was it all you hoped it would be? Was it worth all the anticipation, the hype, the marketing? Did it fulfill your every expectation? And the true test: Is the new soundtrack in your minivan yet? I’m talking, of course, about "High School Musical 2," the Disney sequel that premiered Friday night to an audience of 17.24 million. That’s the largest audience for any telecast in the history of basic-cable television, by the way. For comparison’s sake, the series finale of "The Sopranos" pulled in a first-telecast crowd of 11.9 million (Source: The Washington Post). We couldn’t watch the premiere Friday — an annual festival in my husband’s hometown offered a Tilt-a-Whirl and a Giant Slide, perhaps the only things more exciting than Zac Efron to an elementary-school-aged girl right now. But luckily, Grandma taped it and we DVR’d it, and we’ve already watched parts of it three times. And there they were, just like old friends: Ryan and Sharpay, Troy and Gabriella. Sporting new hair cuts and singing new songs. Facing new obstacles and overcoming them, as a team. ("What TEAM? WILDCATS!!!") It was, like, the Best Thing Ever for my daughters, who sadly are only 3 and 5 but already know the first movie by heart — to the point where my 3-year-old ogles every pretty brunette she sees. "Is that Gabriella?" she’ll ask, her voice all breathy and awestruck. My 3-year-old loves Gabriella. It’s an obsession. This I know. I just haven’t decided how unhealthy an obsession yet. It started with my 5-year-old. (We’re not so horrible at this parenting thing that we’d let our 3-year-old seek out "High School Musical" on her own). My older daughter came home from school sometime last spring insisting that we get "High School Musical" because Claire and Molly and Lila already knew all the words to all the songs. I had no idea what she was talking about. Little did I know how my life was about to change. We DVR’d the movie on the Disney Channel one weekend, and I found the soundtrack on iTunes. Now we are officially a "High School Musical" family. The soundtrack is in the minivan. I absentmindedly hum the songs at work. My husband wakes up with the bubblegum pop ballads on repeat inside his brain. And every time I stand up from my chair at work, there’s a little part of me that wants to slide away from my desk, my arms outstretched ala Troy, singing "I’m SOOOARIN’, flYY-in’. There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach. If we're tryin' yeah we’re breakin’ free..." OK, see — got caught up in the moment a little bit right there. It’s hard not to. I’ve seen the first movie no less than 20 times. It’s cheesy, yes. But no worse than "Grease" and "Grease 2" — my obsessions in my younger day — and a lot, um, less risque. Troy and Gabriella don’t even kiss until the end of "HSM2" (Whoops, probably should have warned with a "Spoiler Alert") and the songs are about becoming who you are, regardless of who other people think you should be. Gabriella’s the smart girl. Troy’s the hardworking basketball star. Sharpay’s the villainess who is nowhere near as mean as real middle school and high school girls today. When the movie ends — both HSM 1 & 2 — they’ve learned a lesson about honesty, friendship and being true to themselves. They’re "All in this Together," after all. So what’s not to love? Besides, when my 3-year-old so seriously sings Gabriella’s winsome ballad "When There Was Me and You," I think it’s absolutely adorable. Videotape-it-and-put-it-on-YouTube adorable. Send-it-to-Disney-because-they’ll-want-to-make-her-their-next-star adorable. I love my 3-year-old as Gabriella. I can’t offer a mom’s review of "High School Musical 2" yet, as I’ve only seen it in bits and pieces. But I guarantee that I’ll know all the words to all the songs by Sept. 1. In the meantime, test yourself. Call yourself a parent of a 5- to 12-year-old girl? See how well you do: 1. What holiday are Troy and Gabriella celebrating when they first meet? 2. What’s the name of the drama teacher, and how would she pronounce the title of the movie? 3. What city is home to the Wildcats and what are their team colors? 4. To which group does the girl whose real passion is hip hop belong? (Extra point: What does the one kid ask when she admits she loves to "pop and lock and jam and break"? He says, "Is that even _______?") 5. In "HSM2," what kind of class is Mrs. Evans taking when Sharpay and Ryan interrupt her with their latest crisis? Who joins in? 6. Who changes Troy’s song for the country club talent show at the last minute? And now, my own "High School Musical" version of the NBC/Fox game show "Singing Bee" or whatever it’s called — finish these songs: 7. "It’s funny when you find yourself _____ _____ _____ _____." 8. "Something is really—something’s not right—really wrong. And we’ve got to get things back where they belong. We can _____ _____!" 9. "Living in my own world/Didn’t understand/That anything can happen _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ ." 10. "No, no, no, noooooooooo / Stick to the stuff you know / It is better by far / To keep things as they are / Don’t mess with the flow, no no / _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ ." So, how’d you do? And did you let your daughters watch "High School Musical 2"?
Monday August 6, 2007
Posted by: eyoung at 1:54PM CST on August 6, 2007
So guess what my 5-year-old did last week. She ordered us a new couch from Target.com. She had been playing on the computer in the kitchen for an hour or so, taking pictures of herself with our iMac’s Photo Booth, typing her name, closing windows and launching PBSKids.org from the desktop. A few hours later, I checked my e-mail and found an order confirmation from Target. She had ordered us the Metropolitan Sofa in Chocolate Brown. Priority shipping. It would arrive in 3-5 business days. It took me a minute to figure out what happened. My husband is not the type to willingly shop for furniture, so I knew it wasn’t him. And while I am a little absent-minded, I was pretty confident it wasn’t me. "Soph," I yell outside, where she’s playing in the pool with her dad. "You ordered us a couch?" ... (more)Monday July 2, 2007
Posted by: Scott Anderson at 12:14PM CST on July 2, 2007
Seems like you can't flip through a magazine in a waiting room or
channel surf from your couch without catching a "Mom Makeover." You know the drill: Tired, harried, overworked mom of 1, 2 or 6 kids, has husband/friend/loving sister who is sick of seeing her in sweatpants and a ponytail. So husband/friend/loving sister signs her up for makeover, and VOILA! ... (more) Letting go, one ride at a time
Posted by: Scott Anderson at 12:11PM CST on July 2, 2007
It starts at a carnival, somewhere between age 2 and 3. You’re standing
on the merry-go-round between a unicorn and a giant kitty, your arm
around her little waist as she clutches the carousel pole. Your feet
are planted so you don’t lose your balance as you spin and spin and
spin. “There’s Daddy!” you shout through your dizziness. And you both
wave. By the fourth or fifth time ’round, she yells to you, “Don’t hold
me, Mommy!” And you have to let go. Then she wants to ride the little boats all by herself, so you buckle her in and walk away. And you stand outside the gate, watching her go round and round and round. You’re smiling and waving, all the time willing her to stay seated: Don’t climb out, don’t climb out, don’t climb out. ... (more) "I don't want to grow!"
Posted by: Scott Anderson at 12:07PM CST on July 2, 2007
I have long felt that my younger daughter, Isabel, was sent to me by
some magical gods of wisdom with the sole purpose of teaching me a
thing or two about life. My older daughter, 5, may have had this mission originally, but she arrived in such a noisy, miserable mood that our first few months together were tarnished by her colic and my panic. She’s sensitive, stubborn and so, so smart. And I can already tell you that our future relationship will be difficult, that our moods will frequently clash, and that we’re so much alike, we will never make it through her teenage years without therapy — for me, at least. Where my older daughter is a force to be reckoned with, my younger daughter is a force that grounds me. Most of the time, she is pure joy. She wakes up smiling and dances through her days. When she’s mad about something, I know exactly what has upset her and how to fix it. She says stuff so simply and observes so completely. And she’s so dang wise — in this simple, all-knowing, little guru way. You know those people who can say in one sentence what most of us can’t say in an entire conversation? That’s my Isabel. And she just turned 3 in March. Her latest decision: No more milk. "I don’t want to grow.” ... (more) Monday June 18, 2007
Posted by: Rob at 3:24PM CST on June 18, 2007
I absolutely love Chicago. After this weekend, my daughters love it, too. We took the train into the city Friday morning and returned last night. We went to Lincoln Park Zoo, Millennium Park, Navy Pier, Shedd Aquarium. We saw Grant Park and Buckingham Fountain, street performers and Segway tours. The girls were absolute angels; they were well-behaved on the train, in every restaurant, in crowded buses and on packed trolleys. No one darted into traffic, fell off Navy Pier, got sucked into an escalator or wandered off down Michigan Avenue (all my fears). For us, it was the perfect family vacation. At 3 and 5, my daughters are a little young for big trips but old enough to require their own airline tickets. So we tend to take small trips within driving distance. And I’d recommend Chicago to any other family looking to do the same. So in the effort of sharing wisdom gathered through experience, here are some things I learned about ourselves and the city from our three days, two nights in the Windy City. Please share your family vacation ideas, too. Where are you traveling this summer? What’s close, what’s cheap? Now that this trip went so well, I’m ready to hit the road every weekend. So here goes. ... (more) |
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