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When my sister read my column on buying China-made products this week, she joked that I sounded like a "wild-eyed radical". That's usually a pretty good indicator that in attempting to walk the line between concerned and shrill, I came down on the "shrill" side. But if you're interested in watching me get up on a soapbox, ride in on my high horse, and just in general spout off, go ahead and read it!
can't you see the excitement just oozing out of every pore?
(before I go on I feel compelled to assure readers that my boys really were looking forward to going to school, and I hadn't tortured, threatened, or otherwise frightened, harmed, or angered any of them before this picture was shot.)
This picture is so deliciously awful that I felt further compelled to break out the three kids into three separate pictures so that you could really drink in their expressions and get an idea of what I think might have been going on in their heads. First let's start with Jacob, my oldest:
"Today is the first day of fourth grade. Fourth grade is where my chances of ever becoming a world-famous video game creator are either made or broken. Therefore I must compose myself with the utmost decorum and seriousness."
On to William...
"Smile? Say cheese? What am I, a trained monkey?"
(In fairness to Will, he got sick later that day and was sent home after a couple of hours...so he must not have been feeling well)
And now the crowning glory....Isaac, my nearly-eight-year-old.
"How do I feel about starting second grade? How do I feel about brushing my hair? How do I feel about smiling for the camera? Wait, what did you ask again?"
Over at larger families we're talking about back to school, which reminded me of this column I wrote around this time last year:
The kids start school soon, and I’m stressing out about it. Not the school part, but my contribution—all behind-the-scenes stuff that gets the registration process rolling. Yes, it should have been done months ago, but I’m a procrastinator—there seems to be more paperwork required for getting one’s child enrolled in school than there is involved in becoming a United States citizen, and I admit I’ve found the whole process more than a little bit overwhelming.
There are immunization records, health forms, vision and hearing screening forms, and proof of residency forms, forms to apply for free and reduced-price hot lunches, forms to request a phone call when the grounds are sprayed with pesticides. There are discipline codes of conduct to initial, attendance policies to review, and important dates to post on the fridge.
I’m buckling under the pressure of all this homework, and I’m not even the student.
And of course, with the stress comes an urge to use inappropriate humor. For instance, on the “Home Language Survey”, I’m tempted to report that our family mostly communicates in Internet emoticons and abbreviations. Under “sex” on the enrollment form, I want to write “Isn’t he a little young to be thinking about that yet?”
But then I remember that class clowns aren’t usually the teacher’s pet. I can’t be sure, but I’m guessing parent clowns are not high on the list, either.
It all reminds me of the vast difference between parenting during the summer and during the academic year. During summer break, everything is so simple: the kids run around half-dressed and barefoot, and nobody cares. It’s easy to throw together a balanced meal on the grill…night after night. There’s no reason to find clean socks in the morning…or at least, no real need to make sure they match. The boys are free to dress to meet their own personal sense of style: For Jacob, it means honoring his penchant for matching camouflage with plaid; for Isaac, wearing shorts he outgrew last summer with a shirt he won’t grow into for at least two years; and if the daily wardrobe were left up to Will, he’d never put on more than a diaper (well, he’d probably go without the diaper, but that’s more freedom than I can handle)
No lunches—appropriately healthy, yet normal-enough not to make my kids stand out as weirdoes, yet filled with items that need no refrigeration—to pack. No homework folders to sign and return. No milk money to remember. No Scholastic book orders to fill out. No picture day to remember.
But if you’re like me, after a while the lack of routine can start to get to you.
I started off the season, like most people I know, thrilled about the free-for-all temperament of summer break: its flexible bedtimes, days that go on and on even after the kids are in bed, afternoons spent lounging in a lawn chair or running through a sprinkler. But I admit that as the summer wears on I’ve begun to crave the structure fall brings to our daily lives: pre-determined waking times, a set schedule, and a sunset in the early evening, reminding us that it’s time to start winding down. Sand and endless sun and lawn chairs are great, but sometimes we all need a stack of paperwork to remind us of the great cycle that dictates the seasons of our lives: a time to run willy-nilly, and a time to get down to business.
So as much as I love the summer, I’m also looking forward to the back-to-school rush. I’m going to attack this stack of paperwork—dreary as it may seem—with something resembling zeal. And when I’m done, maybe I’ll go out and buy a new bottle of glue, some shiny folders, and a stack of freshly-sharpened pencils.
For myself, of course.
*********
What back-to-school task could you stand to live without?
I'm pleased to announce that I'll be leading a "Becoming Mothers" group starting in September at Bloom Yoga Studio in Chicago's Lincoln Square neighborhood. Here's a snippet from the full description of the group:
Pregnancy and early motherhood is full of excitement…and a ton of questions. Wouldn’t it be great to discuss everything from nausea and stretch marks to concerns about breastfeeding and birth with other moms who are experiencing the same things? Our free Becoming Mothers group is meant to be a safe, nurturing environment for expectant and very new moms to discuss the joys and challenges of pregnancy and postpartum. Babies are welcome to attend. For pregnant moms and new moms with babies up to about three months old.
The group will be held on the fourth Tuesday of each month from 1-2:30 PM. I will also be adding an evening and/or weekend group, but need to work around the studio's scheduling first--if you're interested in that group drop me a line and I'll keep you updated.
Bloom Yoga Studio is located at 4663 N. Rockwell, Chicago, IL 60625. In addition to yoga classes, Bloom offers a variety of classes and workshops for parents and babies. Check out their offerings!
I got tagged by the very smart and fun MarketingMommy (who also happens to have an adorable baby).
So here it is:
First, the Rules:
1) Post these rules before you give your facts
2) List 8 random facts about yourself
3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) people and list their names, linking to them
4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they’ve been tagged
And now… my facts:
1) I grew up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. But I no longer say "eh".
2) I am 30 and have moved a total of 21 times in my life (including across-town moves). After this last time, I'd prefer to never move again, but we'll probably have to at least once more. Next time I'm hiring professionals.
3) I am careful about keeping my bathrooms clean but will completely forget to sweep the kitchen floor until things stick to my feet as I walk through.
4) Three of my four babies were born underwater.
5) Growing up, I wanted to be a teacher, actress, singer, Solid Gold dancer and/or writer.
6) I wrote an entire song, in crayon, when I was five, then choreographed a video in my living room. I can still remember the chorus. It wasn't half bad for a five-year-old.
7) I was a cheerleader in high school. I sucked, and I didn't even try particularly hard. I also hated wearing the skirt because my parents wouldn't let me go tanning and I was extremely pale. I still wonder why I bothered. (it wasn't because cheerleaders were cool--at our school, they were not).
8) I have been writing a parenting column for over three years. That means I've written about 175 of them. I had no idea I had that much to say!
And I tag you:
and
As a mom of "only" four whose last trip to the store with all of them nearly brought me to tears, I can certainly relate to this hilarious E-bay post...
And here's the writer's blog.
Having been a parent for almost 10 years, I've made a lot of mistakes in the discipline department. Of course, we learn how to be good parents through trial and error, but there are some errors I wouldn't want anybody to have to repeat. So, to help new parents everywhere, I've offered my critique of the top two discipline strategies I do not recommend:
1. The Ominous Count
Sure, it'll work the first time you do it; that desperate moment when, faced with no other reasonable options and a defiant child, you turn into some kind of deranged Muppet from "Sesame Street" and begin forcefully counting out loud. Perhaps you have an end game in mind. Perhaps not. Either way, counting slowly and declaratively is exhilarating, an exercise in parental authority. "One...TWO....three..."
And the first time, that's usually as far as you'll have to get. The unexpectedness of it, your tone, that half-crazed gleam in your eye, all those will signal your child to stop whatever it is he's doing and cooperate, because whatever lies on the other side of five must be REALLY bad.
But don't think you'll be so lucky forever. Before too long, your counting routine will have lost its original zeal. Your child will decide it's worth the risk to stay around and see what you'll do when you get to five. And if you're like me, you have no idea. Out loud, you continue to count, while in your head, you desperately try to figure out what to do next:
"Five ... six ... seven ... eight ...nine ..." uh-oh, what am I going to do when I get to 10?
"Ten ... 11... 12 ... 13 ...." Shoot! I can't let myself get to 20. I have to come up with a plan pronto! But what? Think!
"Fourteen ... 15 ...." Finally, you realize this is going nowhere, and lamely try to get some resolution to the counting. "OK, you made me get to 15. Do you know what that means? No cookie after lunch!"
If your child is like mine, he gives up the cookie without flinching. Dissolving the power of the count? Priceless.
2. The Endless Bargain
Sometimes, giving choices can be an effective strategy. When dealing with my 3-year-old, for example, I might say "Do you want to get in your car seat by yourself or do you want me to put you in it?" Or I might say "Would you like to eat your carrots on your rice or next to your rice?" When he feels some amount of control over his destiny, he's a lot more agreeable.
I'm talking about a different kind of bargaining. The kind where, instead of two choices, the eager-to-be-accommodating parent offers a whole menu:
"Do you want to get in your car seat by yourself? No? OK, shall I put you in? No? OK, how about if I move your car seat to the other side of the car?" (Much sweating and grunting over car seat un-installation and re-installation ensues.)
At this point, the child starts to get the picture: if he can just keep his mom jumping through hoops, he might never actually have to get in the car seat. "NO! I wanted it over THERE!" he cries. At this point, many moms will realize they've been had, physically install their ungrateful kid into the seat, and take off to go shopping. But a handful will try harder to please. "Do you want to sit in the back row? Do you want to stay home and have juice instead?" And just like that, shopping is off the agenda.
Once in a while, it's nice to allow your kids to be the "boss," giving them the power to make a decision instead of always being told what to do. But the problem with the endless bargain is that the more options you give kids, the less likely that they'll be satisfied with any of them. My advice? Stick with giving two choices, and make sure both are acceptable to you. Otherwise, you just end up punishing yourself.
As for counting? I swore I'd given it up, but the other day Owen kept climbing up on the counter. I wanted my little daredevil to get down, so I held my arms out. He refused to budge. I found myself counting. "One ... two ..."
"THWEE-GO!" he yelled, leaping off the counter into my arms. For Owen, a new, exciting game was born. As for myself? I cursed the day I'd ever learned to count.
(as always, you can read past editions of my columns at the Lansing NOISE website)
I've got a feature in this month's Parenting magazine about caring for your child's teeth.
Which reminds me that it's really time for me to make everybody an appointment for a cleaning and checkup. Just one of those things that can be daunting with four kids (especially when they all get teeth at like 2.5 months and have full sets of chompers by a year--wtf is up with that!) Do you bite the bullet and make the appointments all together so that you spend one hellacious day at the dentist's office with a toddler who, after twenty minutes or so, will spend the rest of the time climbing, jumping, shrieking, and trying to break things, and then write one--gulp--big, painful check? Or do you spread it out? Considering that you're technically supposed to bring your kids back in for a checkup every six months or so--and, of course, more frequently if they have to have work done--that means a dentist visit roughly every month (if you include myself and my husband, which I really ought to), and writing out those big painful checks in 1/6 chunks at a time.
I dunno, seems like six of one, half-dozen of the other to me. Like ripping off a band-aid versus pulling it off slowly. I know, the general consensus seems to be that it's better to rip it off and have it done with, but I'm still not entirely convinced.
I know I've posted about this here already, but if you're interested in the big family stuff, you may want to read my latest column. It's a somewhat more polished version of my original post on the "competitive birthing" story. Here's a few snippets:
Pardon me, I think I just saw a woman walk by with five children. Now I must hurry to go through morning sickness, swollen feet, varicose veins in varied locales, hot flashes, itching, hours of labor, birth, sleep deprivation, diapers and hours of walking the floor with a screaming infant ... just to be sure I'm not left behind.
Does it sound as ridiculous to you as it does to me?
I have easy pregnancies and births, love my kids, and still have plenty of time left for having more if I wanted - and I have a competitive streak, to boot. Still, I can only scoff at the idea of going through it all again just to have the biggest brood on the block. Making and raising kids is hard work, even if you have help. To do it over and over again would, for most sane women, require a much bigger payoff (like, say, loving your kids) than just being the coolest mom on the block.
If you'd like to read the rest, click through here; then come back and tell me what you think!
Over at largerfamilies.com, I asked the question: what does the approaching fall mean for you?
We all know what it means for kids. If they go to school, pencils and books and a desk. If you homeschool, it may still mean pencils and books and a desk, or perhaps those awesome hands-on, child-led projects I always consider with a sign of envy. If you have a baby or toddler, perhaps it just means crunchy leaves to play in and a new hat. But what does it mean for you, the grown-up in the house?
I know it's a bit early to be thinking about fall, considering that it's 88 degrees out. But folks, August is nearly half over, and for us, school starts in eleven days. It's not fall yet, but I'm sure thinking about it.
As for me:
What about you?
