Tag Archives: World’s Best Mom

Another Stakeout (but without Emilio Estevez)

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Like many other mothers, I experienced the first day of school yesterday. The only difference is that my son is three and this will be his second year going to full time school AND his second year taking the bus.

I wrote about our first experience with the bus a couple of months ago when I started my blog. Oliver did not love it at first – and I can’t blame him since I share his aversion to change (and it’s not like it was a little van or anything…it was a real school bus – the same one that older kids take). The transition wasn’t easy, but within a very short period of time, he LOOOVED the bus.

In spite of this I still worried that enough time would have elapsed for him to forget about how much he loved school and how much he loved “MY BUS.” So I decided that it would be best for me to head over to daycare that day and do a little surveillance from across the street.

If you read my post regarding my first stakeout, then you will understand why I wanted to be there to offer assistance as necessary. Oliver is a big boy (about 50 lbs. now) and the sweet older ladies that take care of him are used to the little pod person he becomes when he enters their domain. He follows directions and is apparently “a delight.” They have not had to wrestle him into submission (i.e. make him put on pants in the morning) and don’t have the experience or upper body strength required for this kind of activity.

Last year, Oliver planted himself on the ground (in a puddle) and refused to get on the bus. Gordana couldn’t hoist him off the ground and the bus driver said that they wouldn’t be able to take him in his soggy condition. I had to come get him and drive him to school myself. Gordana and I agreed that the following day, I would hide nearby and be ready to manhandle him onto the bus if it came to that.

It did (come to that) and I did (manhandle him). He would have to learn that the bus was a now fact of life with no opt out feature. And he did (learn). So we conquered the bus. And within a day or two, he was the happiest little boy riding a bus EVER.

Then summer vacation came. And I worried that he might forget about his beloved bus. That he would sense another change and take butt to pavement action yet again.

So I decided to have another stakeout. Which immediately brings to mind the Richard Dryfuss/Emilio Estevez sequal. Which reminds me of how Emilio was always my favorite brat packer. I loved him in St. Elmo’s Fire. Rob Lowe was just too much of a pretty boy and Judd Nelson had those enormous nostrils that I found incredibly distracting. And I always thought Andrew McCarthy was gay. Apparently he’s not – but I never understood his appeal… Then Emilio kind of faded away into movies that I never saw, making a brief comeback in Stakeout. I remember liking it but being perplexed by that awful mustache. I mean, were they trying to make him look like Richard Dreyfuss? I don’t get it… At least it was shaved off for Another Stakeout, which I also liked (because at the end of the day, I’m an easy audience).

But no Emilio – with or without bad facial hair – for this stakeout. I was on my own. And I was prepared to leap in and save the day. Just like a superhero. Just like last time.

And when the big moment came? It was a total non-event with Oliver dutifully trotting up to the bus and climbing up the stairs without prompting. I watched in a daze as he was whisked away to his second first day of school. Then I felt a little ridiculous for wasting the gas to drive over there. It was a bit of a let down after psyching myself up for a big display of mommy power.

But I did get one thing out of my stakeout (aside from fond memories of Emilio in his prime). I got to see Oliver – my big boy – off on his first day back at school. Even if it was from afar.

I won’t be the mom who waits with the school bus this year. I won’t be the one to greet him when he returns and give him a hug and a snack. I won’t be able to ask him about his day until an hour or two later when I pick him up after work. I may eventually be able to do those things. (who knows what direction my career may take). It just won’t be this year.

But I do have that image to replay in my mind every day at the time the bus is scheduled to arrive. My Oliver – walking to the bus on his own – with his back to school haircut and his Superman backpack. I’m so proud of him.

Who’s Big Idea Was This Anyway?

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What do you mean, “who’s big idea was this?” It was my Uncle Dick’s idea. Haven’t you read my posts from Monday and Tuesday? No? Here’s a quick recap. My Uncle Dick called me while I was half naked in a Target dressing room to tell me that I should write a Dear Abby style column for children. Oh right – and we are Covenys, and think we have better ideas than anyone else. I think that sums it up pretty nicely.

To conclude this three part series, I will now attempt to execute THE IDEA. The following letter is based on the experience of my oldest son when we tried to ruin his life by bringing newborn twins into our house – allegedly to be his siblings.

Dear Mrs. Hood,

I am a one and a half year old boy living in the DC metro area. Recently, my mother disappeared for several days, and then returned with two little things that she calls babies. They do not look like babies, and I am worried that she may have suffered an injury during her absence that is making her delusional. These “babies” do not coo or giggle, they do not have chubby arms and legs to tickle, and when I do try to tickle them, they scream. Then I have to sit on the naughty step for being too rough with the “babies.” My father is no help. It seems that he has lost his mind as well. At first I thought he may just be playing along while he tried to get my mother help, but I lost hope when the neighbors started showing up to “see the new babies.” It appears that these creatures have the ability to brainwash grownups. Everyone leaves our house talking about how adorable the “babies” are. They are in fact, not adorable. They look like turtles without shells. I like turtles – but not without shells. How do I make my parents understand that they are being brainwashed by shell-less turtle creatures, and that they should return these so called “babies” to the pit of hell from whence they came?

Sincerely,
Reviled in Reston

Dear Reviled,

First, I would like to compliment you on your advanced vocabulary and writing skills. Most 18 month old children are just starting to put two to three words together, so you are an exceptionally gifted young boy. But remember – you are a young boy, and your parents have a lot more life experience. They are not delusional, and they were just as thrilled with you when they brought you home as a newborn shell-less turtle. All newborn babies are small and twins tend to be even smaller. You may not believe it now, but they will quickly grow and gain those rolls that you would like to tickle. They will also start smiling when they are about six weeks old, and this too will make them more recognizable as babies. The reason that your parents send you to the naughty step is because they have not slept since the minute they brought the twins home; and when the babies scream, it makes them want to buy wigs and fake passports and hop on the next plane to Brazil. This is not your fault, but they are not exactly reasonable at the moment. While you are awfully young for this responsibility, you will have to be patient with them and understand that it takes a while for parents to adjust to a new baby in the house. Even more so for two new babies. You will be surprised at how quickly they adapt though, and in a few months they won’t even remember a time when the babies weren’t part of the family. And by then, you will be happy to see that your twin siblings will be cooing, giggling, ticklish, chubby babies that don’t look like turtles without shells. Until then – keep your chin up and watch a lot of TV. This will make your parents very happy. Guilty – but happy.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Hood

Hey! Not bad right? I will try to come up with these every once in a while. And in the meantime, feel free to send me any questions that you would like answered (either real or made up). You see – not only do I have really great ideas….I have answers for everything.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Hood

That’s My Giant

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Last week I was invited to a lunch hosted by Giant Food at one of my favorite DC restaurants, Chef Geoff. Aside from being a fan of the food at Chef Geoff, I particularly like this restaurant because the owner (that would be Chef Geoff, of course) happens to be a good friend of one of my husband’s best friends from college. So I kind of know him by proxy – which makes me feel very important.

Giant is one of the main grocery stores where I shop (that’s right Washington Post Express – I don’t spend all of my millions at Whole Foods). So the lunch seemed to apply to me. AND it was free. While not everyone likes to admit it – we all like free stuff. Even rich and famous bloggers like me.

When I arrived at the lunch, I was surprised to see that it was a fairly intimate group – probably about 20 people in all. This also pleased me because I like anything exclusive (as long as I’m invited). So far, so good. I was feeling important and elitist and I was getting a free lunch. Ah – just another day in the life of a suburban mom…

But seriously – what was I doing there? Why WAS I invited? I really had no idea. It seemed that the guest list was primarily made up of women who write for DC Metro Moms. And I don’t write for DC Metro Moms. I’ve only had a blog for about two months. But I am a mom, and I grew up in DC and now live in the Metro area….so maybe I should write for DC Metro Moms. I seem to be qualified… But for the purpose of this particular line of thought (why I was invited), there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for it. I could only guess that they saw the title of my blog and thought I was a foodie. Well, as much as I like to eat, I have to admit to being a fairly reluctant cook. But if serving my children different variations of cheese on bread for dinner and then making my own dinner out of some cheese and crackers and a half a bottle of wine every night makes me part of Giant’s target audience….then it all makes sense.

As usual, many words have passed and not many points have been gotten to… So back to the lunch. The primary message that Giant seemed to want to relay to us is that they value the mothers that shop in their stores. Seriously – it just kept getting better. I could now add “valued” to the list of pats on the back that I seemed to be getting out of this experience. Then they filled us in on the current programs they are developing as well as various family-related changes that will be taking place in their stores.

The first item that caught my attention was the improved family-friendly check out lines. They not only eliminate candy and tabloids – but also provide activity pages with stickers for the kids, healthy snacks and various items that a parent may need on the go (like hand sanitizer). My first thought was that this aisle didn’t really appeal to me. I mean where would I get my reward for doing the shopping (candy) and how would I suffer through waiting in line without some kind of entertainment (Us Weekly)? Frankly, activity pages and Fig Newtons just aren’t going to cut it for me. Then I remembered that I would only be using this aisle if I had my children with me (something I actively avoid). And that this information was being presented to me since I’m a mom. Oh yeah – that’s right – I am! Then I thought the idea was genius.

The next point that seemed to apply to me personally was that Giant will be putting reminder signs in their parking lots so people won’t make it all the way through the checkout line before realizing that they left their reusable grocery bags in the car. Anyone that has been reading The Big Piece of Cake recently may remember my confession about this a few weeks ago. And if you caught my post on Friday, you will know that a local publication decided to slander me publicly for it. Okay – that’s a bit extreme, but I didn’t sense any eye rolling over the OTHER blogs they quoted that day…

Another point of discussion that got everyone all fired up was a new scanning system that will allow you to place an order at the deli counter and then come by to pick it up later. Women were literally vibrating with excitement over this. I was thinking about how I don’t much care for lunch meat, but then I considered that I could want to buy something at the deli counter at some point…so then I got into the spirit and joined in the ooohs and aaahs.

The presentation covered much more than this, but those new developments were the ones that seem to stick out for me. During part of the the presentation, Chef Geoff himself gave us a demonstration on how to prepare risotto. He put on a good show, and entertained us with culinary jokes and stories about his kids. The whole time I was thinking about how my husband (who actually does like to cook) would have LOVED to be there, and how he would have been the biggest suck up in the room, asking lots of questions about technique (love you honey!). This risotto was served with a scallop the size of my head as an appetizer. It was phenomenal, and I guarantee that if I tried this “easy” recipe at home it wouldn’t be nearly as good – regardless of Chef Geoff’s instructional skills.

While we were enjoying our entree, Andrea Astrachan, VP of Consumer Affairs gave us all kinds of tips for staying healthy, saving money and other stuff that would be of interest to moms. Andrea sat next to me and she was just cute as a button. Look at her picture – don’t you think so? AND she grew up on a farm. Did you know that? What – you say you had no idea who she was to begin with? Well duh! Neither did I, but you have to start somewhere. So start with this – Andrea grew up on a farm! And she has two sons. And she has a lot of style (you can’t really tell from her head shot – but she dresses well). I think that’s enough about Andrea for today. But that’s okay – it takes a while to really get to know someone. One last Andrea-related detail though – she went to the trouble of providing everyone with several handouts on the content from her presentation. And I will have every intention of reading these and until they slip though the bottom of my purse and into the black hole that consumes pretty much anything handout, brochure or “reminder” related.

As a bonus parting gift, we were given a preview of the NEW Giant logo. That’s right – The “big G” is going away. I can’t show a picture of the logo or even describe it. If I do they’ll have to kill me. It’s top secret information until its unveiling on August 22. We were informed that we were the first people in the DC area to see the new logo – which of course made me feel very special and elitist again, ending the event on a resounding high note.

On my way out the door, I bumped into another attendee that I thought looked familiar. Turns out we went to high school together (hi Stephanie!). So we had a quick, high pitched chat before I had to run back to the office. Well – I’ll speak for myself regarding the high pitched part. I tend to walk away from this kind of reunion wondering when I turned into Minnie Mouse. Seems to be a girl thing since I’ve been with Chris on numerous occassions when he’s run into an old friend, and somehow there is no significant rise in octaves involved…

All in all – it was a great day. As a suburban mom, I don’t get out as much as I used to. And since I left my somewhat higher profile meeting planning job (for one with more “family friendly” hours), I don’t even get invited to that many professional events. Now when I peruse my latest issue of In Style magazine, I don’t have to envy the celebrities at fashion shows and charity events, picking up their bags of Jo Malone and Tiffany & Co. swag. I’ll just look at my reusable Giant shopping bag holding my new logo calculator, adjustable apron, multi-use clip and box of Simply Enjoy brand cookies, and smile as I relive the fond memory.

Thanks again Giant Food and Chef Geoff for putting together such a lovely event!

Weird on So Many Levels

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(Now with Eleanor update at the end.)

I was planning to post this quick sound byte from our weekend (already written below) but I need to do a little venting first (and I’ll TRY to keep it short since don’t want to be an online whiner).

I sometimes really wish I just wanted to (okay – that’s 50% that we could afford for me to) be a stay at home mom. Sometimes this is just too hard. Work is incredibly stressful right now. We have a seminar taking place tomorrow and the President is speaking. She’s notorious for finding SOMETHING wrong every time she does a seminar, and I’m just bracing myself for this one. Too many things were going wrong at the last minute today…

THEN at 4:00 I got a call from daycare that Eleanor had a temperature. Not too high – just 101 – but she has been having this off and on for the past few days, and it was up to 103 on Saturday. I only sent her to daycare because she seemed fine this morning.

When I picked her up, I planned to leave the boys there and bring her to the store to pick up a few things before the regular 5:15 pick up time. THEN while I was getting details about her day from our daycare provider, she threw up ALL OVER ME. The good news is that while it drenched my top, it somehow missed my skirt and I had just picked up the dry cleaning this morning. The bad news that there wasn’t one of my own tops in the dry cleaning. So I ended up wearing one of Chris’ dress shirts.

By the time I got Eleanor and myself somewhat cleaned up, it seemed ridiculous to leave and come back, so I packed everyone in the car. We carpool with Chris, so even though I called and told him to leave early, we had to circle the metro for almost 30 minutes. Thank god for portable DVD players, and Curious George, and the fact that my kids didn’t feel like watching the WIggles since their songs are already haunting my dreams.

Fast forward an hour – we decided that we wouldn’t wait until tomorrow to see a doctor since she gave us a 105.2 temperature scare last summer due to a UTI. I had a feeling that this might be another one and I’d rather not relive waking up at 3:00 a.m. to find my daughter having a seizure. We agreed that Chris would take her to our local urgent care center since the boys are both convinced that the world comes to an end when I leave the room (and because we naively thought that it would only be a couple of hours).

Now it’s 9:30, they’ve been there almost four hours and it will probably be another two. Eleanor has an IV, a catheter and has had blood taken for testing. Poor Chris has a phobia of needles (he passes out when he gives blood) and has had to be there for all of it. I did it last time and it was hard enough for me!

I’m not worried about Eleanor for anything more than her immediate discomfort. I know that this is another UTI. It’s not the end of the world. I certainly know people that have experienced worse – but it doesn’t make it any less scary for her. It doesn’t make it any less disturbing for my husband. And it doesn’t make it any less frustrating for me. I want to be there. I want to hold her and comfort her and let her know that I will ALWAYS be there if she needs me. That’s my real job. I’m the mom.

This time I will have to go to work. I’ve already exceeded my current vacation time by making the last minute trip to Key West. Chris can stay home with her as necessary tomorrow and I can’t. It’s just not a good day. I hate even thinking that. How can it ever be a bad day to take care of my children. If Chris was traveling for work, I would have to rearrange my schedule. But he can manage taking the day off – so there is no reason for me to stay home. Other than the obvious reason that I WANT to.

Don’t get me wrong – on good days, I like having a job. I won’t go into the history of that because I’ve gone back and forth on the subject. But I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t want to be a working mom. It’s just not working for me today. And I’m feeling a little sorry for myself. And I’m feeling guilty for that since I know that I have so much to be thankful for.

I just wish I could trade for a minute. I want to be at the urgent care center right now. I want to be home with my daughter tomorrow. And I want to feel like I’m giving 100% of myself to my children.

Okay that’s it. Sorry – didn’t keep it short. I did try though.

Back to our regularly scheduled program. This is some dialogue from this weekend that I found “weird on so many levels”:

Conversation over lunch at Chipotle:

Oliver (3 years old): OFF! OFF!

Me: No. Boys don’t take off their shirts off at Chipotle.

Chris: Yeah – what do you think this is? Your mother’s favorite gay bar at the beach?

8/12/08, 10:00 p.m. Eleanor Update:
Okay – so she’s fine. We have no idea what was wrong with her – but she woke up this morning like, “psyche!” (I’m feeling very 80s). But she really did seem to be very sick last night – so we don’t regret the ER drama. I mean they hooked her up to tubes and all…so it wasn’t like they were just humoring us. Anyway – it doesn’t seem to be a UTI like I thought, she hasn’t had a fever in 24 hours and she was tearing around the house causing as much mayhem as ever up to the minute we put her to bed. So for everyone that has been sending words of support – all is well. One last thing. Chris told me that when they were in the ER, she kept asking for her twin brother, “where George?” How cute is that?

Insecurity Blankets

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In a previous post, I mentioned George’s obsession with his blankie. This started a few months ago and has recently peaked in an ongoing power struggle that more often than not concludes with George doing a victory lap around the playroom with said blankie wrapped around his head.
In the beginning, the blankie didn’t leave his crib. It was for sleeping only. The first sign of our current descent into madness was when we would get him out of bed and he refused to put it down. But we were still able to hide it before leaving for daycare or weekend plans, so it was just a matter of transporting it back up to his room. Then he had to start this irritating cognitive development thing where he puts two and two together. That’s when he realized that when the blanket wasn’t in view, it still existed somewhere in the house, and that the sight of one of his parents racing up the stairs with something stuffed under their shirt was a clue as to where it went.
Now he’s onto us. Just try to coax him to hand over his blankie and and he’ll give you a look that clearly says, “you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead fingers.” Trickery is now the only option, and I have a new item on my daily to do list: “steal blankie from George.”
In all honesty, I do understand George’s love for his blankie. I had one myself. Even when I was a teenager, I would put the pathetic little scrap that remained over my pillow at night because I still liked the feel of it against my cheek. Then I left it a my friend, Alyssa’s house right before she left to spend the summer with her father in California. By the time she returned, it was nowhere to be found. I can only assume that its value was not recognized, and someone threw it away. It was a little sad – but I let it go without too much remorse. My blankie had lived a good life – much longer than most.
I think this cuddly object obsession that is so prominent a theme for small children (blankets, stuffed animals, special pillows and the like) is just an early shade of something very basic and human. We live in a chaotic world and we all need something to help us stay anchored. We battle insecurity every day – mainly over where we fit into society. Whether it’s high school, the boardroom or the neighborhood moms group – we often need something tangible to make us feel safe or connected. As teenagers we have strong connections to our friends, at work we get identity from our achievements, and with other moms we define ourselves by our parenting. George just wants his blanket.
Sometimes I think it sounds very appealing to go back to this simple set of priorities. If just holding a blanket made me feel good about myself, I’d drag one around too. But as I’ve grown up, my security blanket has become my family, my marriage and children, my sense of self worth. A piece of fabric is no longer enough. But what I do have is more than enough, and my anchor is just being able to remember that every day.

10 Things People Love to Give Kids/10 Things Parents Wish You Wouldn’t Give Their Kids

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If you didn’t catch my guest post at Light Refreshments Served on Friday, here it is below (but I still suggest that you visit LRS – they are very funny even if you don’t understand all of the Mormon references):

10 Things People Love to Give Kids/10 Things Parents Wish You Wouldn’t Give Their Kids

Balloons
Almost every visit to Trader Joe’s is accompanied by a meltdown, typically occurring at some point after the complimentary balloon is presented to your child. This can happen in the parking lot when the balloon slips out of his/her grasp and floats away. It can happen when you arrive home and the rest of your children want to play with the balloon. It can happen when it ascends to the top of a stairwell where parents risk breaking their necks in any attempt to retrieve it. There are limitless possibilities – and all seem to end in heartbreak.

Musical Instruments
This always sounds like such a wonderful idea. Who doesn’t love music? It’s inspiring, it’s creative, it’s a window into culture and genius, and some think it actually brings us closer to God. But when a child is banging a drum, blowing a horn or strumming a ukulele, it’s not music. It’s just noise. Migraine inducing noise.

100 Piece Puzzles
First of all, this 100 piece puzzle is usually presented to a six year old who has no hope of being able to start, let alone finish the activity. So the parent is required to coordinate, monitor and execute the entire process. Usually while the child is watching TV. This basically makes the puzzle a gift for the parent. Please don’t ever buy me a 100 piece puzzle.

Toys That Involve Assembly
Everything looks fabulously entertaining and educational on a box cover where well dressed children are pictured laughing and exclaiming over their love for the miraculous toy. What isn’t pictured is the reality of 750 tiny pieces of plastic and 50 pages of directions that can only be read with the use of a microscope. Much like the puzzle activity, assembly of the toy will require up to 24 hours of the parent’s time. Time that the child will most likely spend watching TV.

Toys That Require Batteries
Oh, I know. You always buy the necessary batteries and include them in the gift. That’s irrelevant. The problem is not purchasing the batteries, it’s inserting them. Most toys developed for children include child proof battery covers. Initially, this makes complete sense – I mean, I can’t imagine what might happen if one of my children was able to dislodge a battery and put it in their mouth. Oh wait – that’s right – it happens every day with our TV remote control. Anyway…in order to get the battery into the toy, you must first locate a special screwdriver made for very tiny people and remove about 25 miniscule screws. Even though we own one of these Lilliputian tool sets, it seems to disappear whenever I need it (or maybe I just can’t see it since it’s so small). The fun really peaks when you are done replacing all 25 screws and the toy still doesn’t work.

Toys That Include Tiny Accessories
How many times have you found yourself tearing a room apart looking for a Barbie shoe, a Star Wars action figure’s light saber or another essential component to a toy’s wardrobe or function? These itty bitty necessities are impossible to keep track of and disappear within days of removing the toy from its packaging. It is my belief that these items are sucked into the same vortex that abducts my sunglasses, nail files, pool ID card and car keys. Some items escape and are eventually located. Others are never recovered. Sometimes I suspect that my son may have eaten them.

Toys That Go With Other Toys That Must Be Purchased to Complete the Set
Why do people insist on committing parents to spending more money on yet another collection? Maybe my children don’t like Thomas the Tank Engine. In that case, I won’t feel compelled to add to the gift of a new “Percy” or “Emily” with more engines and “Troublesome Trucks” to complete the set. OR MAYBE my children will become addicted to these little trains that usually cost about $12 apiece. Which scenario seems more likely?

Toys That Involve Science Experiments
I’d like to say that this doesn’t require any further explanation, but just for the sake of argument… “Learning toys” are extremely popular right now. So one could assume that an older child would really like a do-it-yourself volcano kit. The reality is that parents don’t want a volcano in their house. It’s like, one of the perks of living in suburban America. We enjoy our lava-free lifestyle. Besides – Hollywood has raised the bar in the wonder department with all of the special effects our kids see in movies. It’s unlikely that they will be impressed by a homemade volcano. Parents will have plenty of time to do science experiments for school projects. Let them enjoy their homework-free time without any volcano construction.

Different Toys for Multiple Children
Without fail, someone will always prefer what someone else got. Usually, there will be a correct guess for what one child will like, but it’s very hard to hit multiple home runs… With the little ones, there are tears and with the older ones there is sulking. It’s not that they are ungrateful – they are just children. And they don’t understand how you could be so stupid to give their older brother a Swiss Army knife, yet think that they would like a handmade corn husk doll from Amish country. I mean – it doesn’t even come with plastic shoes – or a light saber.

Identical Toys for Multiple Children
This sounds like a good idea. Total equality, no fighting over who got something better or more expensive – it’s like Communism at its best. But children don’t believe in equality. They will always find the flaw to point out to the youngest sibling: “Your Barbie’s hair isn’t as thick as my Barbie’s hair,” or “my racecar is faster than yours.” Sometimes they use imagination to contrive even more unlikely comparisons: “My robot is smarter than your robot,” or “my Barbie is really a princess, and a fairy, AND a mermaid…but yours is just a Barbie.” Kids can be so cruel.

“But,” you say, “I just wanted to do something nice. Won’t the parents at least appreciate the gesture?” Well…there isn’t a good answer for this. In a perfect world, I would say yes. Yes, parents appreciate anything you do to acknowledge their children. Why wouldn’t we? But we just don’t enjoy all of the complications that these unsolicited gestures can create.

While presents are expected at birthday parties, they are not otherwise necessary. If you want to do something nice for a child, just talk to them. Take an interest in their activities, let them show you around their playroom, engage in 15 minutes of playing “grocery store” or throwing around a football. Kids will always appreciate attention more than things. And if you feel that you absolutely must present them with something, make it something that you can actually do with them. Except for a do-it-yourself volcano. If you bring one of those to my house, you will never be invited back.

World Wrestling Champion

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Oliver is very strong. And he’s been that way since he was a baby. I remember in those early months after getting him dressed for daycare, I’d feel like I spent the morning wrestling gorillas. Not much has changed.

He was over 9 lbs. at birth and has continued to be a very big boy. So between his size and his strength (and his force of will), he’s almost impossible to overpower in a struggle. ALMOST impossible. You see, while he’s been growing and getting stronger – I have been getting stronger myself. All of this lifting/hoisting/carrying/immobilizing of a now 47 lb. boy has developed upper body strength that I never dreamed I’d have. I honestly think that I could join any high school wrestling team and lead them to the state championship.

But that doesn’t mean it’s fun. Every day is a work out. When Oliver was first showing signs of this, I used to make jokes about how I envisioned myself grappling with a giant two year old in the mall. Now he’s three. It’s not funny anymore.

And to make things even more complicated – he has delayed speech, so we’re not really at a point where I can try reasoning with him. For now, all I can do is keep up my strength and enjoy the look of my arms in a tank top.

Really – he’s a good natured kid. And as his teacher always says to me, “there isn’t a mean bone in his body.” He’s just really physical and he loves to play very physical games. Running, throwing balls, rolling around on the floor, being tickled…it all thrills him. Unfortunately, he just doesn’t know his own strength. He never means to be too rough with his much younger, MUCH smaller siblings. But he really needs to learn when it’s just a little “too much.”

The twins absolutely egg him on of course. He can be happily playing with blocks, minding his own business, and they’ll come over and start poking at him. At first, he’ll ignore them, but once they really get his attention, you can just see his eyes light up. And then he’s all, “Welcome, to another edition of Thunderdome!”

The irony is that I’m almost positive that he’s not going to be a big man. None of the men in my life are tall (my husband, father and brother are all around 5’ 8’’). And even the tall men in Chris’ family are more in the 6 foot range. So my guess is that sometime in early high school, everyone else will catch up.

But I do think that he’ll continue to be strong. Even if he’s short (or “not tall”), he’s a solid kid and those muscles make him a match for children twice his age. This can help him in any sport, and we’re thinking that will probably be the best channel for all of that energy he has. Maybe he’ll be a wrestling team champion. I have little experience in this area, but I’m sure that I can help. Now that I’ve developed this upper body strength and perfected my “holds” – I can probably help with the training. Because you know – I can take him.

Parenting Skills at Their Best

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I try to limit the potty training references since I have some readers without kids – and one of the perks to not having children is NOT having to spend your day talking about poop. So I’ll warn you now that it IS going to come up in this one. And it’s not going to be pretty.

On Monday evening, I arrived home alone with the kids. Chris had to drive separately that day, and as usual, he had metro problems delaying him by at least an hour. Now, I am home with alone with the kids quite a bit since Chris has to travel for work. But I’ve been finding it increasingly more complicated since the twins ceased to be blobs (that’s right all you Angelina haters – babies do start out as BLOBS) and have joined their older brother in his daily mission to make me a lunatic.

Actually, it’s been a while since anyone would call George and Eleanor “blobs” – but in the recent past, they were far more sedentary. Approaching their second birthday, they are now a force to be reckoned with, and taking your eyes off of them for more than a minute can result in nothing short of global thermonuclear war. Or at least a toilet paper trail from the bathroom that circles the first floor ten times.

The first half hour was a whirlwind of the usual chaos – a blur of kids playing, crying and climbing on furniture while I tried to make dinner, get the daycare bag emptied and start lunches for the following day. It’s impossible for me to remember the exact sequence of events up until the first minor crisis – but that that pretty much sums it up.

Once everyone was busy eating dinner and watching (surprise, surprise) yet another Wiggles DVD, I ran downstairs to change a load of laundry. Suddenly, I could hear Oliver calling to me, “Mommy! Mommy!” But it didn’t sound like he was upset, so I yelled, “just a minute” a few times until I was done. When I came upstairs, I realized that he was calling me to let me know that he had to go potty. He is really only 75% potty trained and still needs help getting through the process. So all I could do was hustle him into the bathroom as quickly as possible and hope that he could at least “finish” on the potty.

Though I was fairly sure he was done, I settled him on the toilet anyway and then ran to answer the phone. It was Chris. He was calling to let me know that he was still stuck on the metro and would get back to me once he was in his car. At this point, my half naked son walked into the kitchen to announce that he wanted ice cream. I asked if he was finished on the potty and then realized that not only was he finished, but he had the subject matter smeared all over his rear end (must have happened when I was pulling down his pull up). I instructed him to “stay right there” (which he didn’t) while I ran for the wipes. Then the phone started ringing again. I ignored it.

While I was cleaning off my three year old, I heard little voices coming from the bathroom. Great! Now the twins were in there, and most likely throwing things into the toilet. After another directive for Oliver to “stay there” (which he didn’t) I ran to find the twins and was relieved to see that they were only trying to climb onto the sink and not anywhere near the toilet. “Okay – everybody out!”

Once I got Oliver clean and busy with an activity, I saw that it was time for the twins’ bath. They raced up the stairs yelling “water!” and happily scampered into the kids’ bathroom. While simultaneously running the water, getting the twins undressed and blocking them from the tub until they were in fact naked, I saw that I was going to have a big problem on my hands… George must have run into his bedroom at some point, and was now clutching his blankie.

George is obsessed with his blankie, and I spend quite a bit of time tricking him into letting go of it so I can throw it upstairs while he’s distracted. I thought I had accomplished this when we got home, but my efforts were foiled by his wily reconnaissance. Now “Linus” wanted to bring the blankie into the tub with him. He is a toddler, and neither willing nor able to listen to reason. And since his current vocabulary consists of “car, truck, train, bus, more and thank you,” there was no point in trying to engage him in discussion about it. I had to forcibly remove the blanket and put him into the water kicking and screaming.

Eleanor splashed happily while George wailed and tried to climb out. I just washed him off quickly and then set him free to reunite with the blankie. Knowing that he had left the bathroom and could, that very minute be peeing all over the second floor, I rushed through Eleanor’s scrubbing. George and his blankie returned within minutes and I was just in time to stop him from throwing the paperback that he was aiming at the water. This was the final signal for bath time to be over, and against Eleanor’s vehement protestations, I pulled the plug. Within seconds I had two naked toddlers in Oliver’s room (where we have all of the bedtime books). One was crying (Eleanor) and one was trying to sneak out the door (George). I closed the door, placed myself in front of it and started stuffing them into their pajamas.

At this point, Oliver decided to come see what all of the commotion was about and tried to open the door. After a few seconds, I realized that he couldn’t get in, and that’s when it hit me: the door was LOCKED. The previous owners installed the door knob to Oliver’s bedroom so that it locked from the outside. I gratefully took advantage of this when we moved Oliver to his toddler bed, and found it comforting to know that I could lock the door and not worry about him wandering the house while I slept. But it never occurred to me that I could get locked in with him on the OUTSIDE.

Never one to panic, I responded to Oliver’s increasing anxiety with comforting promises that I would “fix it” and a lot of the ever popular, “in just a minute.” All the while, I was running through possible action plans. Climbing out the window was not an option since it would be a three story drop, but I thought a neighbor might be outside. So I opened the window and started calling for help. No dice. Everyone was inside their air conditioned homes.

Meanwhile, Eleanor sensing the terror in Oliver’s cries to get in, started crying even louder – which in return increased Oliver’s anxiety. George was furious that I had closed the window (because, you know – that was so much fun), and started crying as well. Great – now I had thee screaming children.

I considered trying to break the door down, but after one half hearted attempt, accepted the fact that I was not the Incredible Hulk. Then I remembered that there were a few wire hangers in Oliver’s closet. DUH – all I had to do was to use the end of a wire to poke the little hole in the door knob and spring the lock. Chris showed me how to do this in our old apartment when I used to worry about Oliver accidentally locking himself in the bathroom.

Within a minute, I had a red-faced, hysterical Oliver in my lap and equally upset twins climbing all over us. Once I had everyone somewhat calmed down, Oliver started dragging us out of the evil room that had kept us away from him for the TEN MINUTES that this drama probably took to unfold. I knew that only one thing could snap everyone out of their hysteria. So I asked, “hey – who wants ice cream?” And then all was golden.

While the twins should have been settling down to sleep and Oliver should have been preparing for his own bath, we sat around the kids’ table exclaiming over the miracle that is ice cream while traumatic events quickly disappeared from our blessedly fickle short term memories.

Good times.

A Different "Meme"

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Meme is a term that is new to me. It’s what people call lists of questions that are passed around in a blog game of tag. It’s never been defined for me, but my high school French dictates that it simply refers to giving the “same” list of questions to different people. If this is wrong – please correct me in comments. I won’t be embarrassed since I’ve pretty much passed the point of no return on that front.

There have been a few that looked fun, but I haven’t tried one yet. I did consider a meme that required one word answers to all the questions… Nuff said – not happening here. And I forgot to keep track of where I saw others that caught my attention. So even though I want to try one out – I don’t actually have one…

My good friend Nancy (who really needs a blog by the way), pointed out that one of my advertisers, Tea, will be launching their own blog this Fall, and they’re looking for “writers interested in conversation about raising little citizens of the world.” As someone who has always loved to travel (one of the highlights of my entire existence was a business trip to Beijing), I really like this idea. I want my children to be citizens of the world. I want them to have interesting cultural experiences. I want to visit the countries of our great great grandparents. I want to take my family to restaurants that offer both traditional and fusion cuisines from around the world. But there is one problem. Actually there are three, and their names are Oliver, George and Eleanor.

Oliver is three years old and George and Eleanor are still a few months away from two. So they’re not really the best candidates for intercontinental travel and fine dining. There were six questions posed to us as writers for subject matter in potential blog contributions. I found that I could not only NOT answer them, I couldn’t really imagine how ANYONE with children small enough to wear Tea designs could possibly contribute to such a discussion.

So I’m creating a new meme. It’s called Citizens of the World. Here are the questions and my answers:

Q: Do you know great places to travel abroad with kids?

A: We have no experience in traveling as a family outside of the U.S. but I believe my husband’s take on our flight to Boston for a wedding was “never again.” I don’t think that Paris will be our next destination.

Q: Do you remember what your child thought the first time he/she tried sushi?

A: My children don’t eat anything that isn’t breaded and/or doesn’t involve cheese. So unless someone can come up with a sushi grilled cheese combo – I just don’t think I can answer this question.

Q: Are you celebrating cultural traditions with your family?

A: Well…unless you count doing take out pizza for dinner every Tuesday (HEY – I’m ¼ Italian), then no.

Q: Do you have a funny or memorable story about an international adventure?

A: YES! Where do I start? Oh wait – you mean with the kids. Yeah – no.

Q: Is your child learning another language?

A: My children can barely speak English at this point. But Oliver can count to five in Spanish thanks to all of the TV watching. Yeah Dora!

Q: What are your favorite children’s books that feature images or stories from around the world?

A: Okay – this is a little more in the realm of possibility for us. An all time favorite book in our house is one from my own childhood bookshelf: Come Over to My House written by Theo LeSieg and illustrated by Richard Erdoes. An American boy visits children all over the world and gets to see where and how they live. It’s adorable, surprisingly inoffensive considering that it was written over 40 years ago and has great illustrations and memorable rhyming text.

The truth is – I’m just being snarky. These questions are perfectly reasonable for people who have to travel frequently as a means of visiting family, people who have one child, people who have really well behaved children that are great at entertaining themselves for long periods of time (it could happen), and people who may not travel but do a lot of cultural things within their cities and really make the effort to teach their children about other countries and cultures.

I would like to be this person – but I’m usually such a mess trying to keep up with our daily routine that I’m lucky if I can get everyone to eat one bite of a vegetable. Exotic foods are out of the question. And like I said – air travel with three toddlers is exhausting (for everyone). Small children tend to prefer routine and my kids are perfect examples of that. Sleeping in a new room in a new place translates either to them sleeping in my bed with me or me sleeping in their beds with them. And neither is particularly restful.

But the idea of this is actually very interesting and also motivating. I do want to expose my children to other cultures and encourage them to be inquisitive and curious about how the rest of the world lives. I want them to travel and have those once in a lifetime experiences that I did. I’m not willing to pack them all up for a once in lifetime trip to Beijing right now (that would definitely be “once in a lifetime” since I don’t think any of us would survive the trip). But I can take them to Chinatown. Hey – we used to take Oliver out for dim sum all the time before he decided that he wouldn’t anything that wasn’t covered in melted cheese. So maybe I do have some stories to tell.

I’m challenging myself on this one. I’m gong to come up with a post to submit. Even if it’s not used, I’ll feel more inspired to try new things with my kids and contribute to their illustrious future as citizens of the world. Everyone is invited to join in – I’d love to see the posts you submit. And also feel free to use my meme. It’s not exactly what I had had in mind – but sometimes you have to get out of those same-old same-old patterns and try something different.

Empty Threats, Bizarre Statements and Why the Wiggles are so Thin

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I’ve found that ever since I became a parent, I’ve started doing something that as a teenage babysitter, I swore I’d never do. I threaten my kids with consequences that have no basis in reality. For example, although Oliver no longer naps, I habitually claim that if he doesn’t stop the problem behavior at issue, I will send him straight up to his room for a nap. It could be 10 a.m., 2 p.m. or 7 p.m. That’s the threat. It’s ridiculous, but I just can’t seem to come up with anything better in the heat of the moment (and don’t even talk to me about time outs or naughty steps because we’ve tried it all and none of it works for us).

One result of this is that I can now identify any empty threat, even if I’m hearing it from a random stranger passing by. Prior to having my own kids, I only spotted the obvious ones from the people I knew well. But now that I’m a parent, I can tell when other parents are being less than truthful about punishment. Recently at the mall, I overheard a woman telling her kids that if they didn’t stop fighting they “wouldn’t be able to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s for dinner.” Oh sure, I can hear it now, “Hi Mom. Bad news. Yeah, the kids are fighting. Mmm hmm – so we’re not going to be able to make it for dinner tonight.” Like that would EVER happen.

I’ve also heard myself say some of the most bizarre things without even a hint of irony. Here is a selection from the past couple of weeks:

  • Boys without pants can’t go outside.
  • Boys who poop in their pants don’t get ice cream.
  • You can’t be naked – the floor is too dirty.
  • Please don’t throw things at her head.
  • I won’t sit with you if you keep flinging yourself at me.
  • There is no way that you’re bringing that dead caterpillar inside.
  • Stop doing that to the worm. He doesn’t like it.
  • Hey – who wants to watch Barney?

And I can honestly say that I never expected to feel exhilarated at the sight of an unflushed toilet. That is – when it is my son that didn’t flush, and only if it shows some hard won results of the never-ending torture that people call potty training.

Not only have my conversational skills suffered, I’ve also gotten nerdier (if that’s even possible). Not only do I enjoy many Wiggles songs, I am sometimes unable to restrain myself trying out some of their more complicated dance routines. All under the guise of entertaining the kids of course – but it’s hard to resist those Hoop De Doo Wiggly Polka moves. The good news is that all of this ridiculous leaping about is very similar to a high impact aerobics class.

With the exception of pushing the double stroller around on the weekends, I really don’t have free time to exercise these days. Luckily, my schedule from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed doesn’t afford many opportunities to snack; and running up and down the stairs of my town house is kind of like exercise. But I’ve decided that if I ever need to incorporate some more intense cardio, I’ll just “do” a Wiggles DVD. The movement involved in each one seems to be the equivalent of an hour long 80’s jazzercise class. No wonder they all look so trim in their brightly colored, monochromatic lycra-blend outfits.

This work out plan will not be effective with all kid DVDs of course. I’d say that The Backyardigans are another good choice since they do a lot of dancing (and they totally rock) – but Barney won’t work. He’s not very dynamic. Hmm…seems as if I’m back to the bizarre statements… Now if I want to come full circle, I just need to find a reason to threaten Oliver with a nap.