What are you getting your kids for whatever absurdly commercialized "Religious" holiday you are celebrating this year?

Ho Ho Ho

Yay!! My long awaited Scrooge post!  You knew it was coming, didn't the five of you?

Ahh, this year I felt my first REAL bitter taste of the commercialized nonsense of the Holidays.  Oh. Man.  With a three year old who is preoccupied with getting "things", as in, it's hard, I mean, really hard, to go to places like Target without a Level 6 meltdown over some plastic nonsense that he wants and that I won't buy.  I realize this is a huge parental failing on my part, combined with the natural inclinations of a three year old, so I'm not trying to suggest I have no idea why this happens.

Anyway... Christmas.  Since November 1st, my son has been proclaiming a deep and profound desire for a "Storm Trooper" and "Scary Guy".  (Read: Captain Rex and General Grievous from Star Wars).  Yeah yeah kid, I get it, you want this.  Well, literally, for almost two months, he would chirp about these two annoyingly plastic and electronic noisemaking, likely will break within four minutes pieces of crap.

But I bought them.

Yes.  "Scary Guy" entered our family home today.  I'm such an awesome mom.  I mean, I figure that if the two things he asks for of all the things he could possibly want, that he's been harping about for the last six weeks were not delivered... then there might be hell to pay.

Let's take a trip down memory lane and let me share with you the mother I had planned on being prior to the birth of the fetus that would become my current three year old son.  We would have:

-Lots and lots of books.  (yes, we have a virtual Barnes and Noble, so I'm kind of okay with our books)
-No plastic.  ( HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!! - um, yeah, that died as soon as little baby Ronan was          
SO over the Haba rattles)
-No Happy Meal toys (see above).
-A wonderful Waldorf inspired abode.

Okay, that didn't work out as planned.  Actually, his first birthday was when the shit really entered our lives.  Up until then, he was pretty content with the little basket of toys he had that we kept in his room of our tiny shoebox condo.  His first birthday party, while a modest affair (as I tend to like birthday parties to be) brought in our first taste of the blinky, battery powered, action packed, brightly colored, toys that I vowed we'd never buy, or own.

Whatever.  Okay.  Fine.

Now, we live in a pretty huge house with a play room that is FILLED TO THE GILLS with plastic crap manufactured in ever major Asian country, and every time I see "made in China" written on the back of some action figure's ass, I wonder to myself, "what must the person who put this together think of us and our tastes in toys?"  Then I think about Japan and the weird shit they like and I feel a lot better about it.  (Hello Kitty and her friends notwithstanding)  But I digress.  (as usual)

This Christmas, my husband and I decided that we were going to tone it down and keep it natural - excluding "Storm Trooper" and "Scary Guy" of course.  We wanted to keep the massive paper ripping frenzy and overloaded get get get to a minimum.  I will have to say, I'm pretty sure I've failed miserably. Oh yes, we did get the uber-pricey heirloom quality Waldorf inspired Angels and Elves use-your-own-imagination-dollhouse and a few rooms of unpainted furniture and an "ethnically ambiguous" family of four (hey, we're liberals yo!).  This was my big exciting idea for getting the children something beautiful and sturdy that would inspire their imaginations.  Yay yay yay!  I'm so crunchy!

Then, I freaking wander into Toys R' Us, and walk out with about half a dozen other plasticy pieces of crap that a) my children don't need and b) they will likely forget about in four seconds after ripping off the carefully applied paper.

I am a hypocrite.  I accept this.

So.  I've bared my soul.  Once again I am disappointed in my parenting, falling prey to the siren song of the consumerism driven culture in which I live.  I bought my kids a lot of useless crap (and a few beautiful things, which I guarantee WILL be the things that they enjoy a lot longer than batter operated plastic pieces of junk) for Christmas and, to be quite honest, I will enjoy watching them open them and be thrilled - even for those few fleeting days or so- with their gets.

My idealistic mind hopes that I will stick to my New Year's resolution and clean out the play room, donate what isn't being played with, streamline the toy selection to things that are useful, creative, and beautiful (and of course, keeping the things that they love, regardless of how I feel about them - I'm not a total jerk) and pay better attention to what enters the house in the future.

If you want to read the article that inspired this guilt ridden tirade, check it HERE.

Everything I need to know about parenting I learned from Mad Men.

Art by Naoto Hattori

 Rampant alcoholism, chain smoking and humiliating your children in front of peers and other adults notwithstanding, because, of course, I can honestly say the most profound thing I might have ever heard regarding relationships with living things was spoken on Mad Men.

Last Sunday's episode involved a scene where everybody's favorite dipsomaniac, Don Draper, has taken an interesting and complicated female co-worker out to dinner.  (This woman is a psychologist who basically runs focus groups for the ad firm Don works at).  Don inquires basically how she is able to get the focus groups to open up to her, as she is quite capable of getting these groups to share with her their real feelings in an unguarded way.  Her answer was in effect, the following:

The Wind and the Sun were disputing which was the stronger. Suddenly they saw a traveller coming down the road, and the Sun said: "I see a way to decide our dispute. Whichever of us can cause that traveller to take off his cloak shall be regarded as the stronger. You begin." So the Sun retired behind a cloud, and the Wind began to blow as hard as it could upon the traveller. But the harder he blew the more closely did the traveller wrap his cloak round him, till at last the Wind had to give up in despair. Then the Sun came out and shone in all his glory upon the traveller, who soon found it too hot to walk with his cloak on.

Kindness effects more than severity.

-Aesop's Fable of The Wind and the Sun

How simple is the message delivered by this one, dear fable?  

Today, tomorrow, this year - will you be the wind?  Or the sun?

Are you happy?

I'm not sure what my obsession with Babble.com is, lately, but I am finding much of the articles written by parents to be quite thought provoking, and, in my opinion, worth sharing with my legion of fans.  *cough.  Kidding.  (thanks for reading, mom.  Mom?  Hello?).

Anyway, THIS article talks about the recent New York Magazine story discussing, basically, how parenting makes us miserable.  Or, at least, sucks away the happy.  I don't know, something like that, read it yourself, I'm no good at synopsis.

So, this did get me thinking.  I've waxed on about my devotion, love, amazement of my children.  I've also complained about them too!  (uh, see last post).  Now, I'm definitely a major supporter of making of the babies.  If someone says to me, "well, we're thinking of trying for a baby", seriously, I squeal with delight. I wonder why?   I mean, my days are not filled with rainbows, sunshine, perpetual ease.  Of course I'm not living a difficult life, either, by NO means.  But, you know, I don't just go off at the drop of a hat to do whatever I want, whenever I want with whomever I want.  Even the most mundane tasks such as grocery shopping or dental appointments require planning.  Often, major planning weeks in advance.  I don't stay out late on weekends drinking and having heavy conversations with my friends.  No more dance parties to our favorite musicals and carefree cook outs where I can sit in a lawn chair and talk for a full hour about adult topics.  Nope.  But do I miss that?  Well, sometimes.  But usually not.

And I was thinking about all this.  Am I happier now that much of my freedom has been scrapped in favor of finding perfect playdates and scoping the right preschools?  I guess the answer is yes and no.

The day I found out I was pregnant with my son, my entire worldview shifted.  Life was no longer about me.  Now, granted, I wanted to get pregnant.  We were trying, so I can see that that experience might not be shared by every woman who's ever seen the two little lines.  But for me, almost thirty years old, married for over five years, and READY (I guess?), it was what I had wanted to happen.  Well, I remember the extreme joy.  EXTREME joy.  I've never felt like that before in my life.  Then, my first ultrasound.  No heartbeat, abnormal yolk sack.  I was told I was either too early, or about to miscarry.  Just like that.  Did they not know that this had shaken my world?  I was no longer me.  I was "me + someone else".   I was in emotional agony for two weeks, basically waiting for the blood to show up.  It never did, and my second ultrasound, shaking and hoping and terrified, there he was, blinking away.  SUCH happiness.  Elation.  Joy.  Like the Babble article's author describes, never in my life have I experienced these highs and lows of emotion.

After my son was born, I felt a simple peace and contentment that I had never known.  Suddenly I wasn't looking for the way to make my mark on the world anymore.  I felt as if I already had.  I stopped the perpetual seeking that I had previously carried with me my whole life.  I was continuing on the simple and awesome tract of life by giving life to someone new.  Now, I am not suggesting that all that was "me", and all the things I liked to do, thought about, aspired to, simply disappeared.  I was still there, but my life was suddenly different.  The small stuff actually became small stuff, and the big stuff was my family.  And for now, this seems to be the holding pattern.

When we tried again for number two, it was no less amazing to find out I was pregnant.  The "me + she" that followed was no less special or unique.  The joy of adding another child to our family added to the completeness of our little family.  Of course, two children meant a LOT more insanity, less time for me to do what I want, but I knew that this was only temporary.  All too fast they are becoming more self sufficient, needing me less.

But, back to happiness.  When I see my children experience life in a new way, watch that joy cross their face for the first time, it is hard to match that feeling.  On the flip side, I've also never felt so much fear and worry over the possibility of losing them, that sometimes it has been hard for me to dig myself out of a vortex of negative and fearful thoughts.

Truly, for me, having children has been the most intense experience of my life so far.  Life is harder and better at the same time.  It's not the easiest feeling to explain.  I am sure that if I never had children, either by choice, or not, I would surely find great joy and happiness in the experience of whatever that life would have held for me.  I enjoy my children.  Moments after they piss me off to no end, I am enjoying them, their smile, their smell, their curiosity, their happiness.  When I think about the possibility of a third (and last) baby, I literally well up with emotion.  I feel the clench in my heart at the happy thought of a new baby.  Another sibling for my children to squeal with, run around the house with, fight with and lean on as they become older and begin to find their own happiness and place in the world.

Mean Mommy

I found this article at Stroller Derby and it struck a chord.  Read, then come back here.

Why it's good to scream at your kids

Maybe you found that title interesting as well?  Probably.

Now, here's my parenting philosophy.  Ahem.  I don't actually have one.  HA!  Perhaps you thought I was going to share some earth shattering parental amazingness.  Not so much.

So, I have (and probably a lot more lately than usual) a short fuse.  I get angry.  I get frustrated and I have been known to yell.  For lots of reasons.  For doing the one thing I ask my son 34095843095840398 times nicely not to do, then he looks at me with that look, and does it anyway.  Hitting his baby sister.  I get really angry.  I usually feel pretty shitty about it, too.  Like the author mentions, I do not want my children growing up remembering a mother who was always angry, who was always yelling and frustrated.  I agree, that I have seen some overly permissive parents who have barely pooh poohed some rather nasty toddler/child behavior, but, like one of the commenters mentions (read the comments) there is a middle ground.  I'd like to think I find that most of the time.  Especially when I am, myself, doing well.  If I'm exhausted, stressed out, feeling unsure of things, etc, my fuse is shorter.  If I'm well cared for, then it tends to be longer.  That's probably not a huge revelation for anyone.  So, I try to take care of myself with as much (try being the operative word here) with care and respect so I don't regularly flip out on my family.

BUT, in the trenches of parenting, I've clung to a few floats here and there in the form of various books about discipline and child-rearing.  In general, the ones that favor gentle discipline and attachment parenting speak to me more (as in, ring true to whatever is in me that goes "aha! Yes!" when I read it) than more rigid, rule following, scheduling, etc.  Not that I don't have rules.  I do.  But they're frequently broken, and that's usually okay.  I try to remind myself, especially when I am about to launch a rocket attack of anger at my 2 year old (okay, he's like three weeks away from being three...) that he's TWO, still a baby, still learning boundaries.  It's my job to guide him, not kill his love of life and natural joy and curiosity.  I mean, I can kind of remember what it was like being a kid.  I wanted to DO STUFF.  All the time.  I was always trying to play, wander, explore, etc.  I was by no stretch of the imagination a difficult child, but I can recount lots of instances where my natural curiosity pissed my parents off.  I've read about "consequence free parenting".  This makes NO sense to me at all.  Even when the proponents of it try to explain it.  I lurk around gentle discipline forums picking up little nuggets of wisdom when I can, yet, often find myself lifting a disbelieving eyebrow when I read about some of the ways people discipline, or rather don't.  I'm not a firm believer in punishment.  I'm not sure time outs serve to do much more than make that kid stew in anger and hurt over their punishment, not reflecting on how they could behave better.  Um, and this is not to say we haven't, and do not, use time outs.  Sometimes it's all I can think to do without going ballistic.  And, while I'm not a big fan of punishing, I do think that life has consequences and children should learn them.  But how?  Basically, I'm always trying to figure out how to show my kids that what they did was wrong (when they do something wrong) but not be a total witch from hell in the process.

I don't want my children to grow up always trying to avoid conflict, and become namby pamby people pleasers.  I also don't want them to grow up to be sociopaths and capital J jerks who've never been told "no".  On some days I feel like I am super mom, chilled out and relaxed and my kids totally match that mood, but being HUMAN, that is just not my daily reality, and so, on crap days, things just get pretty crappy and moods and behavior spiral the drain.  Some days, I'm a kill joy.  Other days, I'm awesome.

I truly feel that what we do as parents HUGELY influences how our children turn out.  I don't think the onus is TOTALLY on us AT ALL, but parenting plays a major role in the kind of person we turn out to be.  This has been seen time and again.

Well, once again, I'm pretty sure I've rambled on without making too much sense, but if I've made any point, it's likely that parenting is effing hard and I have no idea what I am doing, but I'm doing the best I can at any given moment!

Attack of the 60 foot Mom. AKA, I'll stomp on you if you don't agree with me.

Breasts and bottles.  Cribs and Co-sleepers.  Rice cereal early, or baby led weaning.  Spanking or gentle discipline.  Natural consequences or punishment.  Epidural or natural.  Cloth or 'sposies?

Seriously people, it's no wonder mom's have such a tough time making friends.  Not only are we hauling around all our other weirdo baggage (political views, religious convictions or lack thereof, socioeconomic snobbery or fear, education status, your KIDS educational status, our OWN parent issues) but we are creating new issues for ourselves every day.  I do it.  You do it.  We all do it.  Admit.  Don't you feel better?

Most people do not live in an idyllic little clime where everyone around them agrees with and lives like they do.  So it stands to reason that there are going to be lots of different parents with lots of different ways of parenting.  Of course, right?  Well, DUH.  But really, are we honestly watching someone whack their kid's butt with a completely non-judgemental mind when we ourselves believe hands are not for hitting?  I mean, I feel the rays of disapproval searing into my back every time my kid pulls out a non-diluted juice box.  I'm sure MORE than enough people have viewed my almost three year old pacifier addicted son and thought, "she needs to get that thing out of his mouth".  And hey, I've had my own share of high and mighty thoughts regarding ferberizing, circumcision and forward facing car seat issues.  And let's not even talk about diapers!  Sheesh!  That's just the way of it in parent land.  Right?  Is there a way to parent the way you feel is right without alienating someone who does things differently?
Do you feel sort of, um, judged when someone starts telling you what they do when it is obvious you are doing something completely different?

I would hate for childrearing discussions to go the way of "religion and politics" as being somewhat taboo because people don't want to offend each other.  As someone who is seriously contemplating homeschooling (or unschooling) as an option if Montessori doesn't fit, I don't want to have someone come at me expounding the virtues of public school and how homeschooled kids are weird.  (and trust me, I've known some weird homeschool kids, and yet, here I am considering it)  Because I KNOW how that's going to go.  Quite often it comes down to if you choose one thing, and someone chooses something else, you, or they (or both!) are going to think that since that person didn't choose the same thing as you that they don't like the choice you made and think that you choose incorrectly.  (um, make sense?!)

We don't want to live in a bubble where we're surrounded by only those people who read, and eat and play and philosophize exactly the same way we do.  Yet I am not up for completely flakey and fake mom's group gatherings where no one talks about anything with substance because they are afraid of stepping on toes.

Well, perhaps this post has no point.  And I'm a bit distracted lately with all the moving prep that is occurring and impending.  I'm just trying to hang on here.  But this was on my mind.

I'd love to hear some parents weigh in on this...

Poo Hands

This was my exact expression. (at least on the inside)

He was supposed to be napping. (Of course he wasn't, though.) Down came my little boy... holding his diaper, which was covered in poo. As were his hands, and legs, and arms and shirt... and... well, you get the idea. He was crying and seemed REALLY unhappy. How do you respond? Well, I did good, I think. With lots of, "it's okay! Let's go right up to the bath!". I smiled through a poo covered and tear filled hug. I wiped him down. (And myself! Ohhh, you didn't think I escaped un-poo-scathed did you!?) But, I didn't puke. It was a miracle. I don't think my boy was permanently scarred, AND, the silver lining...he was more interested in sitting on his potty later that day.

You can't really prepare yourself for times like that, though.

You can take your gifted kid and ...

Warning: I am ranting here. If ranting offends you, read a different post.

So, what really is a "gifted" child? I happened to peruse a certain parenting forum that I often stop by and just for fun, landed in the "gifted" subforum. WOW.

I was expecting things like, "My two year old can play perfect Chopin while balancing a bowl of piranhas on her head". But no, these lucky parents claim their progeny can speak in complete sentences at 29 months and engage in "creative play above that of their peers". Really? That's it? Um, well, knock me down, my kid's gifted too. But, oh wait, maybe he's just developing at his own pace?! I am certainly not suggesting that there aren't people out there who may or may not be a shade more intelligent in one area or another on this journey we call life, but assigning special categories to toddlers who are likely still crapping in their pants seems like a potential house of cards just waiting to be knocked down.

In order for a child to be gifted, does it just require the parent to think their child is gifted? Do we trust the assessment of some standardized test that some gifted adult dreamt up? If a child is gifted as a toddler, will they be so special in fourth grade? What if they are "average" at that time? What then? Do you just keep it to yourself that your child was once a prodigy and now they are just sniffing glue with the rest of the pack? Do you say, "Ohh, there's my son, XX, he USED to be gifted... I suppose that last HiB vax booster stunted him! Damn you vaccines!!! " * Fellow mothers nod in agreement and shake their heads pitiably. *

Why are we always trying to label ourselves, including our children? I am interested to see how many other countries are quick to see an incident of peeing on the potty before the age of two as the machinations of a future Einstein? Why are we doing this to our children? Will proclaiming them advanced somehow improve their educational goals? Will a different label on your child and special classes put him/her in a better mindset for level appropriate learning? I believe that is what the theory behind identifying early giftedness claims. Will this label serve to support this young person? Or will it slap a big fat scarlet SMARTYPANTS on them that their peers will pick up instantly and hence shun them?

I'm really, really, really trying to be much more accepting and laissez faire regarding how people parent. AP, mainstream, natural, Montessori, Waldorf, gentle discipline, hell, as long as you aren't beating your child or shaming them continuously I am sure we can find some common ground, but sometimes I think things like this go WAY past parenting and into a deeper cultural condition.

I suppose this is all blowing my non-gifted mind, and that's okay. I'm cool with being average. I want my children to learn that flowers bloom in all different shapes, sizes, smells and colors, but that they're all still flowers.

The Roller Coaster

There are hard days sometimes. Some days both kids are wailing and screaming and throwing epic tantrums in the grocery store resulting in numerous pitying (and annoyed) looks from fellow shoppers.

Sometimes stress gets me in its clutches. The kids are sick, it's snowing and cold and there's no place to take them to get their energy out. They whine, cling, scream, vomit, poop, smear food, pull on and demand from you every ounce of your being somedays. Some weeks. It can be hard. Sure, sure, you might say, you get to stay home! Who wouldn't give their lower wisdom tooth to be able to do that? You get to play all day happily with your children! How dare you complain! I have to go to work and make money! Ah yes. Now, when I was working as a professional archaeologist, it was practically a sport to bitch about your job. We loved to complain. Too hot. Bugs. Tired. Stupid clients. Stupid permitting office. Stupid biologists thinking they're better than us.

But really. This parenting stuff is harder. Being on call and in demand 24/7 is harder. But also far, far, far more rewarding. Though, somewhere in the land of parenting, if you are fortunate enough to stay at home with your kids, you'd best shut yer' mouth about anything about it that might be stressful because you have the golden opportunity! When did it occur that the one job you don't get paid for is the only one you can't complain about from time to time? I mean, when I was working as an archaeologist, no one said, "well, why don't you quit?".

Of course I don't want to quit parenting. When the kids are testing me to my limits, that's sometimes when I find that little piece of me that is the strongest. And we get through the meltdown, the poor sleep, the ear infection, the hunger strike. When we're at our lowest, I KNOW we are headed up to the top soon. I wouldn't get off this ride if you paid me.