June 2011 Archive

Pet Peeve

I know I’m going to get blasted for this and I sound sooooo very ungrateful and rude, but here goes…

I can’t stand when people don’t ask for gift receipts when purchasing gifts. 

Note to friends and family – this is a general sentiment and has nothing to do with the beautiful gifts we received for Alexa’s Birthday.  Well, maybe a couple of them.  But it wasn’t YOU. 

I’m sure I’ve been guilty of this in the past (actually, I just gave my friend L a gift for her daughter and forgot to tape the receipt inside, but I have it and asked her if she wanted it) but what makes a person think that there’s no way in hell that someone wouldn’t like their gift?  Of course everyone thinks they have fabulous taste, but I can’t help it if I’m not a fan of a velvet turtleneck in a 12 month size when it’s summertime.  Just give me the chance to make it right and exchange it! 

Some gifts don’t come with any proof of the store they came from so there’s no way to return it.   I’d like to be able to exchange your gift instead of donating it in a drop box after you spent considerable time and money picking it out.  Store policies today are so strict that I have to go into Toys ‘R Us with a friend’s driver’s license once I’ve hit $75 in returns in one calendar year. 

There’s also the possibility that the gift recipient already has the gift and would like to exchange it.  Without a receipt, I’m stuck with three different Memory board games and four of the same book.  And I’m not a re-gifter, even though people tell me I’m crazy for not doing it.

Speaking of re-gifting,  I remember in 2009 I received a gift that had a receipt attached from 2006.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?  I didn’t even have kids then!  Furthermore, if YOU didn’t like it, why did you think I would?  That’s what gets me.  I guess if you gave away an extra Memory game because you have four of them it’s not as bad as giving away some fugly outfit that you hate as well. 

I know some people take pictures of their kids in horrendous outfits that they received so that the gift giver can ooh and aah over it and feel good.  Then they hide it in a drawer, never again to see the light of day.  I’m just not that nice.  Or wasteful.  Sure, if great grandma knit a sweater, of COURSE you’re gonna have the kid wear it when she comes over, but stuffing yellow polka-dot overalls with green smiley faces in a drawer robs another worthy recipient of it’s “fabulousness”.

Now that I’ve got that off of my chest, I can continue writing thank you notes while you curse me under your breath.  Remember, it wasn’t YOUR gift.  YOU have great taste and know exactly what I like.  It was someone else.

Go ahead, blast me.  I feel better now.

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Childhood Songs

UPDATE: Thank you, LIParentSource for featuring this post for your readers today.  I’m honored! http://paper.li/LIParentSource

It’s amazing how a song can immediately transport you back to your childhood.  I was listening to XM Satellite Radio’s 80′s on 8 in my car today – say what you want about that music, but it’s my favorite genre of all time – and Billy Joel’s “This Is The Time” came on. 

I felt like I was sitting with my Pop Pop on his patio in Florida, listening to the radio while he read the paper and I looked at the comics.  A simple, yet memorable moment in time. 

My bus counselor and friend at Arrowhead Day Camp introduced me to Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill” and pretty much every song by The Beatles.  He made me mix tapes of his favorite songs – I can still see the handwritten titles on the cover and the excitement I felt when he shared his music with me for keeps. 

Our bunk’s dance one year was to The Eagles’ “Hotel California”.  I still remember some of the moves. 

My friend L and I will forever remember the night of “Walkpeople” when we stayed up super late listening to the radio – each with our own Walkman.  We searched across all radio stations and somehow EVERY SINGLE SONG was one of our favorites.  We sang for hours and hours and couldn’t believe our luck.  Today this isn’t so exciting, as you can listen to any song you want within seconds, but back then… man I sound old.

The songs we sang at our campfires at overnight camp will always stay with me. 

Bus songs – See See My Playmate.  Miss Sue.  My Mother, Your Mother.  Miss Mary Mack.  I Wear My Pink Pajamas.  Miss Lucy Had A Steamboat.  Man, there were a lot of “Miss” songs.

Songs with old boyfriends.  There are still one or two I can’t listen to because I feel actual physical pain – they are that powerful in my memory. 

Some songs remind me of people.  Some of places.  Some of particular years or grades at school.  Music is such a universal language.   

Listen to music with your kids.  You never know when you’ll create memories.  Ryan has a growing playlist on our iPods – some songs that we’ve shared with him, some that he’s learned through school, camp or other friends.  A couple of times a week, I turn on the Music Choice channel on the TV and we have a dance party with instruments. 

I look forward to seeing what the kids remember as the soundtrack to their childhood.

What are some of your childhood songs?

 

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Happy Father’s Day – an insurance policy

When I was a little girl, I knew I had the best Dad. 

He made sure I felt special, safe and loved. 

He listened.  He created memories with me.  He explained things.  He lifted me up on his shoulders.  His happiness made me happy.  His disappointment made me feel miserable.  He was proud of me.  He came to my games and plays and concerts.  He was, and still is, the best.

I knew one thing about the man I would marry some day.  He would want children – and not just act as their Father, but their Daddy, too.  He would be present in their lives.  He would play and laugh and run and tackle and lift them up in the ocean.  He would cuddle and sing and dance and not be afraid of silliness. 

He would be an equal partner in parenting and in life.  He would be the kind of guy who would make my Dad feel like he could sleep at night, knowing that his daughter, and eventually his grandchildren, were in good hands. 

And so I was lucky enough to marry him.  And at our wedding, my Dad’s speech echoed those sentiments. 

Of course there are days when I yell at him to stop flossing his teeth in the living room or ask him if his hands are broken as he puts that lone dish in the sink, but I still thank my lucky stars every single day that he’s mine.  And he fumes when I’m still drying my hair and we’re 15 minutes late to wherever we’re going, and he can’t find a pair of socks in his drawer – ever – but he’s lucky, too.  (I think.) 

Even in the early years of dating, I knew Cory would be an amazing Dad.  He was tested right from the start when he had to step up and take control for those first six weeks of Ryan’s life when I could not care for him.  I feared Cory would leave me because I gave him a reality that was thoroughly unexpected for both of us, yet he never faltered.  He knew everything would be okay, even when I didn’t.  Although marriage and parenting are both so much more difficult than I ever imagined, there is nobody I would rather have by my side along this journey. 

One of Cory's first moments as a Father

Happy Father’s Day, Cory.  Here is an insurance policy, of sorts. 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words… so here you go, kids.  Don’t ever say your Dad never took you anywhere/did anything together with you/cheered you on/talked to you/showed affection/(insert anything here).  Because he did and I know he always will.  And you’re luckier than you’ll probably ever know.

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Do Children Really Make Us Happy?

23 weeks pregnant with Ryan - dreaming of the future

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine forwarded an article that she thought would be topical for my blog.  After reading it, I realized it was the perfect piece to complement what has been a running draft in my head for a while now. 

Over the past few months, I watched as our friends finally welcomed a daughter after several years of incredible heartbreak and loss.  I listened with chills as a family member recounted the day she got “the call” that a baby was born and that she and her husband were the couple chosen to adopt him.  I also had a great many conversations with first-time parents who felt isolated, guilty and confused as to why they tried for years to realize their dream of parenthood, only to find that in reality, their emotions didn’t come close to matching those expectations.

I am not going to quote the article (please read it – it’s quite interesting) but it centers on one woman’s purposeful decision not to have children as well as a national study which concludes that having children is inversely correlated with emotional well-being.  This study is counterintuitive as people have long thought that having a family is the key to a happy life, but this may not be the case as nearly 1 in 5 American women now end their childbearing years without having a child, according to U.S. Census data. 

I speak daily to seasoned parents who will readily admit that their children are the force behind most of their stress, who complain that there isn’t enough time in the day for their marriage or personal interests as a result of having children, but who also will enthusiastically agree that having children has been the single most wonderful thing they’ve ever done. 

It’s not surprising that parenthood causes more marital dissatisfaction, more personal dissatisfaction and less time for personal fulfillment.  Being a parent is a sacrifice, and not just for 18 years.  It is a full-time job, a constant cause for worry and a complete change of life from the one we enjoyed pre-parenthood.  Parenting is not for everyone, but for me, it is a deeper love than I’ve ever felt, a joy that I can’t explain and a feeling that my life is about something larger than myself. 

It wasn’t always that way, though.  As many of you know, eight days after Ryan’s birth, my life spun out of control.  My lifelong dream of motherhood did not nearly match the reality.  Ryan was not a difficult baby, he did not have medical issues, but my hormones, coupled with my family history of anxiety and depression, created a tornado of imbalance within my brain and resulted in a blackness (Postpartum Depression) that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. 

Ryan the fetus at 30 weeks gestation

Everybody asks you if you’re blissfully in love with your baby.  Nobody asks you if the baby is colicky or if you’re feeling depressed or alone.

Everybody asks you how the baby sleeps.  Nobody asks you if you’re having trouble falling asleep.

Everybody asks you if you’re taking nice walks and enjoying these first few weeks.  Nobody asks you if you’re having trouble getting out of bed.

Nobody asks you if your husband is having a hard time adjusting to this new life. 

If you’re feeling trapped. 

If you feel a disconnect with your baby. 

Of course, many people make it through those first few months feeling tired but content, and are able to balance this new chapter with amazing grace.  But there are people like me who simply didn’t experience it like that. 

We didn’t understand how life would ever be the same.  Our marriages.  Our friendships.  Our time.  And it won’t be.  And it’s too scary to even speak aloud.  We didn’t yet know how fast our baby would smile and how that would make all the difference.  How a belly laugh would be the greatest sound in the world.  How sitting, standing and walking would come in stages and with each stage it gets better and better.  How we would fit into each other’s lives.  It didn’t come naturally to some of us. 

The article cites how parents in the U.S. lack the proper “support, child care and assistance” to raise a child.  How the government should “implement and subsidize more ‘kid-friendly’ policies to help families thrive”.  I agree.  We’ve long heard that it takes a village to raise a child.  In generations past, there were family members in close proximity and a sense of community that we rarely see today.  Parents today are more isolated than ever, family members are often spread throughout the country, there is an overwhelming amount of competition and judgment from other parents that is counterintuitive to what new parents need most – support.

My friend who sent the article shared her emotions from her first six months of motherhood.  She wrote,

“I like the take-home message that the parenting “ideal” doesn’t necessarily bring instant gratification of parental bliss. I wish someone had given me more of that realistic expectation up front, since I expected all instant happiness and smiles on Day 1 from a happy, smiling baby…when those smiles still take considerable effort to generate. Instead, for the first six months, I internalized it all as though I was doing something wrong, or not coping well enough as a new mom. At the six-month mark, an older family friend finally looked me in the eye and validated my feelings that, no, it’s not me, and yes, my baby is in fact a handful – even for a baby. From that single day of validation, I felt as though a veil lifted, as the sentiment alone was the emotional support I had needed all along.”   

This begs the question – why do we treat new mothers as if they have just won a prize?  Having a baby is surely cause for celebration – but those first few days and weeks are NOT a walk in the park and many times people forget that a newborn isn’t representative of the “family” you always dreamed of (in my case, I dreamed of family vacations with elementary-aged kids who walk and talk, not so much alien-looking newborns).  It’s not an automatic wish fulfilled – it’s a complete life-changer that turns everything you knew upside down and inside out.  Surely, the extra lumps and bumps left on our bodies, the lack of sleep, the new responsibilities, the shift in priorities, the milk leaking from our breasts and the sounds of crying that permeate our homes is enough to make you want to run away… so why is it that we shove these images aside and focus instead on a bliss and happiness that eludes most of us? 

32 weeks and blissfully happy

I will admit, the second time around I did not suffer Postpartum Depression and although I was tired and lumpy, leaking and hormonal, I already experienced what it was like to be a parent so it was not a shock to my system and I was happy and balanced.  Oh, plus I was on medication. 

But anyway, I think if we all gave new parents-to-be a little more of a realistic picture of those first weeks when they ask instead of suggesting they go to a movie and take naps now while they can, we would be doing them a great service. 

Yes, I do believe children make us happy.  But not necessarily right away.  And not necessarily every day.  Parenthood is not for everyone.  It is definitely a choice I am happy I made, but the happiness wasn’t automatic and it took a lot of work by me as a person, a wife and a Mom.  I slowly but surely found my way.  Let’s help our friends who are about to enter into this new phase of life see a more realistic picture of the happiness that is to come.

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Animal Noises

 

My internet has been down for 4 days.  Although I missed you, it has been a nice break. 

Just a quickie – Head of State with Chris Rock is on while we’re folding laundry and Ryan suddenly yells, “Hey!  That guy sounds like the zebra from Madagascar!”

I’m sorry, he’s a genius.  Or he watches too many movies.  Whatever.

(New post coming soon.)

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MENSA

Little story from this morning: Head of State with Chris Rock is on and Ryan looks up from his game and says, “Hey that guy sounds like the zebra in Madagascar!”  Freaking genius.

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Posted by Dani in Funny Things My Kids Say

Top 10 Reasons It Was a Bad Idea for Cory to Allow Me to Plan a 1st Birthday Party In Our Backyard

1. He actually thought it would be cheaper than going to a play place. Is he kidding?  Has he gotten a chance to know me over the past 14 years?  This is going to be like my second wedding.

2.  For the 48 hours leading up to the big event I am like a crazy PMS robot gunning down everyone in my wake.  People closest to me go first.   

3.  I am stressing that there won’t be enough food which means a mid-party run to the supermarket or the nearest catering hall, which means more money (see #1).  Bonus points for reminding me that most parties feature only pizza and cake and that the guests don’t end up dying of starvation.

4.  He will be subjected to cruel and unusual punishment in the form of wrapping favors, using Magic Erasers to scrub down climbing equipment and tying colored ribbon onto plastic white chairs.

5.  I forced him to take Friday off of work so he can be my slave. In no way will this feel like a vacation. It may resemble a slightly nicer version of hell.

6.  He will be subjected to multiple middle-of-the-night wakeups so I can pester him about my to-do list and constant worries that the party won’t be any fun. 

7.  I have formally relinquished my duties as “Mother” and am now to solely be referred to as “Party Planner”. Ryan needs his tush wiped?  Your job, Daddy-o!

8.  He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s waking up with the kids. I’m tired from my late night date with the hot glue gun. (Update: he did it without me having to ask.  What a good, good man.)

9.  Home parties need a theme, or at least that’s what I decided before I picked out the invitations.  So in the spirit of Alice in Wonderland, Cory will be wearing a Mad Hatter hat made of green velvet in 80 degree heat.

10.  He was coerced into signing a contract stating that if the party is a smashing success, it was all my doing. If it sucks, it’s only because he gave me no creative control.  In addition, he must apologize to our guests by throwing himself onto the barbecue and allowing them to throw skewers at him.

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Mom, can I have some more asparagus, please?

The food pyramid is going the way of Ancient Egypt. 

The USDA rolled out a new icon today – MyPlate.  A simpler, easier to understand icon so that schoolchildren can visualize healthier eating habits.   More than one third of children in the U.S. are obese, along with more than two-thirds of adults. 

I know I learned about the food pyramid in school but I couldn’t tell you exactly how many servings of fruits and veggies I should have been eating daily.  Also, the top of the pyramid had sweets and sugar, which kind of seemed like it was the most important, even though it was the smallest section.  Kids like what’s at “the top”, you know? 

So I’m thinking I will print out this visual reminder and that should ensure that Ryan eats a plate of asparagus tonight.  Glad I solved that problem!

Oh, and where is the section called “Mommy’s dessert”?  I guess they must have made an error.  I’ll call today to get that straightened out.

Check out http://www.choosemyplate.gov/index.html for a breakdown of the food guidelines and other helpful information. 

Do you think the new MyPlate icon is a step in the right direction or will it not make any sort of difference in your child’s life whatsoever?  Sound off!

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And now an important safety message from Playing Mom

I don’t know where you live, but chances are it’s starting to feel like summer in your neck of the woods.  Carrying little people, chasing after them at the park, lugging shopping bags and climbing in and out of your car during errands is leaving you wanting to reapply your deodorant every five minutes.  It’s starting to get HOT

Over the past week, I have had a lot of errands to do in the mornings and I decided to skip Lexi’s morning naps because I figured she’d take catnaps in the car.  I pulled up to the dry cleaners and looked back at my sleeping angel.  I pulled up in front of the entrance door and parked.  I had never left her in the car before, but the door was right there.   After all, Lexi was sleeping and I just had to run in really quickly to pick up Cory’s shirts.  The bill was already paid and there was no line.  No sense in waking her up for a two minute errand, right?

I turned off the ignition.  In less than two seconds, the car seemed to swallow all of the cool air from the A/C and spit out fire in its place.  I tried to picture sitting in this closed car for thirty seconds and I realized right then that this two minute errand could put Lexi in some serious danger.  Even if I had kept the windows open, the 85 degree heat would be stifling.  This errand wasn’t worth risking her life.  I opened the door, she woke up, and I carried her in with me.  It took all of one minute and ruined her nap but at least I still had my baby. 

I am not here to say you’re a horrible person if you have ever left your kid in the car for a minute or two.  But please please please do not leave your child in a hot car unattended – EVER.  It’s not worth it.  I shared my story because I want you to know that I understand that waking a sleeping baby sucks and taking your kid in and out of their carseat is a royal pain.  But losing that child to hyperthermia is most definitely worse. 

Hyperthermia can occur even on days with mild 70-degree temperatures. The temperature in a closed vehicle can rise about 20 degrees in 10 minutes and nearly 30 degrees in 20 minutes. Cracking a window has little effect.

Most car deaths due to hyperthermia can be avoided.  In many sad but preventable cases, parents or caregivers simply forgot that the child was in the car.  To keep this from happening to you, place your diaper bag, briefcase or other important items in the back seat next to your child’s car seat so you have to look in the back before leaving the car.  Set a reminder on your cell phone about dropping off your children when routines change.  Simple human error and/or miscommunication are to blame for countless deaths each year. 

For more information on this subject, there is a great site called www.KidsAndCars.org.  Please check it out.  If these tragic but true stories or this Pulitzer prize winning article in the Washington Post don’t make you think twice, I don’t know what will.  

Please be vigilant and enjoy the (hopefully) beautiful weather, wherever you are!

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