Last New Year's Eve, my last 2006 post was a year in review through the lens of Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting. Since it seemed to work then, I am trying the same thing this year. For round #1 I am repeating the first line of my blog for each month in 2007 (excluding Blog Exchange posts or Blog Exchange references). For round #2, I am repeating my first lesson learned from each month in 2007. May it bring wisdom, insight, or entertainment to all who muddle through it.
Pass #1
January: I know January 1 is supposed to be a day of change since it's the start of the New Year and New Year's resolutions.
February: Some memories of your baby growing up can be precious.
March: My husband had been stressing out about it since before my younger son (YS) was born.
April: I grew up Catholic and my husband is Jewish.
May: Yes, I am writing this from a bathroom in a Holiday Inn in West Virgina.
June: I was very surprised to receive the following question from the Big Giraffe over email:
July: What's worse than when your 3.5 year-old throws up on one of the few rugs in your house after inhaling his breakfast and running around like a lunatic?
August: Last year Massachusetts almost banned the inclusion of free formula samples in hospital gift bags for new moms.
September: Happy birthday my sweet older son (OS).
October: Today I was talking to a pregnant friend of mine.
November: The day after Halloween many years ago, my kindergarten teacher told us that she paid her kids $5 if they would give her all their candy.
December: Soccer Mom in Denial is declaring January 10, 2008 to be a very important day.
Pass #2
January: Who knew that one bag of tater tots could lead to so many questions.
February: Yogurt spit-up smells disgusting.
March: Invest some time into reading the FAA's and your airline's website and some money into a box of gallon sized ziplock bags.
April: The prohibition against having pets in the doctor's office apparently does not apply to imaginary chinchillas.
May: Look messy - earn free soda.
June: If your marriage is secure, your spouse should be able to handle being told that you consider another human being physically attractive.
July: With any medical procedure, it's best to get the most current information and not rely on information from when you were in 2nd grade.
August: It is possible and desirable to promote breastfeeding without limiting any woman's choice for whatever reason to feed her child formula.
September: Gardening equipment may be hazardous to your family.
October: The difficulty in assembling children's gear increases faster than a parent's skill in performing the assembly.
November: If you ask OS if he got a lot of candy for Halloween, you will get a dirty look from me.
December: You are legally responsible for your own decisions regarding how to dispose of a Christmas wreath.
The Golden Compass and the Best Feminist Blogging of '07
One of my Christmas gifts to my husband, the Big Giraffe (BG), was the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman. The BG finished The Golden Compass on Wednesday, The Subtle Knife on Thursday, and The Amber Spyglass on Friday, passing each over to me as he finished. It thus may not surprise you that I am thinking a lot about interconnections between various worlds.
It is far easier to click a hyperlink to another blog than to find a way from one universe to another, but sometimes the gulf in the blogosphere seems almost as vast. I know that with the large number of blogs, the small amount of time to read them, and the lack of an alethiometer to guide me, I have a tendency to keep clicking on the URLs of my favorite bloggers over and over rather than to cut my way to new writers. Since joining BlogHer Ads, however, not a day goes by without four links that open windows to other blogs that are often not on my blogroll. Some days do go by without me going through those windows, but when I take the time, I am often impressed by what I find.
Today's BlogHer ads brought me to a post called I Need Validation on a blog called So Sioux Me. I was initially struck by her tagline, "My intention is to inspire women and help them to empower their daughters. I welcome comments to generate a constructive conversation," which feels very consistent with what so many of my favorite bloggers seek to do on their blogs. I read a couple of posts and saw her writing openly and honestly about her brand of feminism, how she makes choices, and how she parents. I will be back!
However, the post where I initially landed was about a contest on another blog that I didn't know, Hoyden about Town, to find the top 40 feminist posts of 2007. I started scanning the comments and following a couple of links. I was struck by two things: the quality of the writing and my complete lack of familiarity with any of the blogs. It reinforced how there are entirely separate universes of women blogging on innumerable topics, including those related to feminism. Unlike the worlds in Pullman's trilogy, the blogosphere can only benefit from connections these blogging universes.
So I urge my regular readers to go through the window to Hoyden about Town and read and enjoy the posts that you find there. In particular, you can find the contest explanation and rules so that you can nominate up to six posts from other blogs and up to two of your own posts. This isn't an election, as the selections will be made by "the Hoydens" themselves from amongst the nominees, but it is a chance to enjoy bloggers whom you may have never read before and to attract bloggers who may have never seen your work or other work that you appreciate. Go quickly! The contest ends at the end of this year, and then it will be as ephemeral as dust in the wind.
So what links am I leaving open across the blogosphere? Here are my nominations for a few of my favorite feminist posts of the year:
Suzanne's post Suzanne Reisman, Swimsuit Model, Takes a Stand on CUSS taking a personal stand agains unrealistic beauty standards. (In accordance with the Hoyden linking policy, I will note that CUSS is not safe for workplace viewing (NSFW).)
Do Assumptions Change When you Know the Accused also by Suzanne but on BlogHer rather than CUSS, struggling with the balance between supporting women and preserving the presumption of innocence for those accused of crimes against women, particularly when you know the accused.
Soccer Mom in Denial's post Be an Ally and a Friend linking a personal story, a well-known tragedy, and our own responsibility to Transgendered Day of Remembrance.
Kristen's post Irrelevant on Motherhood Uncensored about getting lost in blogging, public relations, and the value of motherhood.
Pundit Mom's post A Political Equation calling on women to use blogging to drive political change.
Expecting Executive's post What Breastfeeding Ban? Defending Facebook defending Facebook's controversial actions as neither being unreasonable nor being anti-breastfeeding.
And for my two self-nominated posts...
The Latest Formula Ban is the post I wrote criticizing the New York City public hospital ban on free formula samples for new moms that got me invited to speak on the Mike and Juliet Show on Fox TV last August.
Breastfeeding after Someone Else's Breast Reduction Surgery is a post that I wrote about a pediatric nurse practitioner's personal devastation at the inability of some women who have undergone breast reduction surgery to breastfeed their babies.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If you follow a link into another blogger's world, you may be amply rewarded by what you find there.
I started reading this thinking how envious I was at Big Giraffe's reading capacity then moved on to awe at your writing and thinking (my brain is this big - note finger and thumb is touching when compared to your brain).
Then you go and write something nice about me and my writing. And you call me a feminist!! Now you just made my year.
I'm with SMID. Thanks for the nominations, and even more, thanks for being such a good friend this year and every year. I'm so lucky to have you (and your family) in my life, even if it is long distance.
Alex, thanks for this post. It was our own interest in finding and reading other great women bloggers that got me, Elisa and Jory excited about BlogHer in the first place. And it's posts like these that help us get excited about digging in and doing even more in 2008.
Great best-of links, thanks for the tips. And I have one for you: We downloaded the Dark Materials trio on iTunes and the whole family recently listened to it as we drove to and from our holiday vacation. It's a great listen.
Thank you SO MUCH for the nomination AND for all your great posts through the year. I know I don't comment as often as I should, but I'm here and reading!
Ack! It seems I am always late to the party. Thank you for this recognition. The Facebook vs. boobs thing was certainly a conversation starter in 2007 eh?
I am glad you added your post about NYC hospitals and formula. That post has stayed with me and it still ticks me off to think about the whole situation! Sheesh.
Over the summer, the boys and I had the pleasure of getting together with Soccer Mom in Denial (SMID) and her daughter for lunch. We had a wonderful time. It was really fun getting to meet someone who's blog I enjoy reading so much, particularly when I found her and her daughter as delightful in person. Plus I had fantastic gyros.
Today SMID, her daughter and her twin sons met the Giraffe family at the Ecotarium which is an environmental and natural history museum in MA. We had a blast. The kids explored the museum and then decided to have an early lunch. Wow, our families really have a lot in common: Unitarian Universalists and early lunch eaters. What more could you ask for? Then the kids saw an animal show...Well, SMID, her kids, my younger son (YS), and I did. My older son (OS) played hide and seek with the Big Giraffe. Afterwards we went to see the live animals outside. That of course is my favorite part of the Ecotarium. It also cracks me up, because it seems so random to have environmental exhibits inside and an eclectic collection of animals outside. What do I mean by eclectic? Owls, bald eagles, red foxes, and otters...And oh yeah a polar bear!
You might think that seeing the polar bear would be the highlight of the trip, but at least for OS one of the two highlights was realizing that the polar bear's poop was floating in the water. In fact all the kids seemed pretty enamored by this. SMID tried to convince the kids that they were looking at floating leaves, but none of them bought that for a second. I'm also sure it will be the subject of many future conversations.
So what was the other highlight of the trip for OS? The two "big" boys who treated him like he was a special friend. (And both of my boys were intrigued by spending time with an adorable little girl as well.)
After OS and the Big Giraffe sent the rest of us off and welcomed us back a ride from the train ride around the Ecotarium, we headed home. SMID suggested that next time we meet at a restaurant and leave the kids at home. That way we can actually finish a conversation!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: The only thing more special than making new friends is admiring bear excrement with those friends.
You know, I'm not a fan of the EcoTarium, although the girls LOVE it! I always feel so bad for the poor polar bear. Last time Husband brought Einey (in November) the employees were telling them info about things that just wasn't correct.
I do like the nature trails and can't wait for the girls to get a tad bigger so we can test out the tree canopy.
Whirlwind - I can't wait to do the tree canopy as well!!
AE - LOVELY TIME!!!!!! And what a treat to meet Big Giraffe. But seriously, two times with the kids is enough. Booze, food and grown-ups only next time. I have 37 things I meant to tell you....
hahahahahaha! What's better than meeting a fellow blogging friend? Examining bear poop of course. What a great story Alex. It sounds like a tremendous time together. I think SMID's suggestion of adults only and booze is an excellent one. Can we all come along?
My aunt and I have always had a good and steady relationship. That's not to say that there hasn't been some ups and downs. Definitely when I was in high school, things weren't very smooth, so we sought some professional help. Yes, I was a little young, but our relationship was important to me. We also had a little bit of an issue when I was in college. Usually our problems arose during swim season in both high school and college. I think the time and energy I spent focusing on swimming, left my aunt feeling a little neglected.
Lately we had been having issues again. Again we sought professional help, but what had worked for us in the past wasn't working now. In fact, it was having a negative impact on our relationship, and I really did wonder if things were ever going to be the same again. Fortunately, a new tactic was suggested and it did seem to work. For me anyhow. I can't speak for my aunt. I actually think my aunt may have been a little offended. I didn't see her for a few months. I had been told this might happen, so although my initial inclination was to freak out since we've always had a regular relationship, I ended up enjoying the personal space. A couple times I thought she might stop by for a visit so I bought her favorite refreshments.
That's the thing about my aunt. She's always been very particular about her food preferences. For the longest time she only liked greasy food, and then it was salty food, and then it was chocolate. Every once in a while it was all three! Not knowing what she would like these days, since we haven't been on speaking terms, I went out and bought the whole gamut. Wouldn't you know that I later found out that none of those choices were OK. She only wanted protein, mainly nuts and yogurt, and get this, the nuts had to be those red pistachio nuts that stain your fingers. Honestly I just wanted to throw my hands up and give up. In the meantime, all the other food I bought was just sitting around because I didn't feel like eating it. Sure the Big Giraffe nibbled on some food here and there, but my aunt's tastes are just so peculiar that you really have to be in the right mood to enjoy her type of food.
I started to become concerned by her reclusiveness. I contacted my doctor because I was worried that perhaps medical intervention was needed. I mean it's one thing to decide to be a little bit of a homebody, but it's another not to leave your home for over 3 months. My doctor said that actually my concern was justified so that if after holidays I hadn't heard from her, medication would be a good solution for her. Unfortunately, the medication can be somewhat uncomfortable so I was really hoping for her sake that she would get over whatever was bothering her.
In all honesty, I think that she was annoyed about the new medication she started taking after our last professional get together. What's the big deal about taking a pill every day for 3 weeks out of the month? I pointed out to her that she wouldn't be as likely to get migraines, be crabby, or have weird food cravings. This medication was similar to the medication that she had been on for most of the last ten years, but now it was new and improved. It was a win-win situation. In fact, the older medicine had made our relationship great. I think she was offended. On top of it, I know she's been annoyed that I've been training for the triathlon. In fact over the past few months I've had quite a few prank calls that I know are from her.
I pretty much assumed that this Christmas would be relative free. That's why I was so surprised when I walked into the bathroom on Christmas morning and saw that my aunt was there! Luckily I was prepared, and my kitchen was well stocked so when she made her crazy request for protein, I was able to offer some food. Her visit was light and brief. We did have a few fights, and I felt like she had socked me in the stomach. In fact I even ended up taking a few rounds of Advil because all the fighting gave me a headache. However, a visit is a visit no matter how short. We parted on good terms, and Aunt Flow has shown a good interest in visiting again in four weeks. This time I'll make sure I have a lot of yogurt and nuts on hand.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Always be prepared for visits from Aunt Flow.
I'm such a dork. I read your entire post and didn't get who your aunt was until the last paragraph! I kept thinking you had a very strange relationship with your aunt! Sometimes I'm really slow.
I am the biggest loser! I didn't GET who your aunt was until the very end. I did think it weird to see your aunt in the bathroom but thought maybe she had a key to your house.... oh I am so swift!
I have the same troubles. It's coming up on 3 months but I don't want to take meds......
For all my frustrations with the holidays, we ended up having what I think was our best Christmas yet. A couple weeks ago, after after talking with my husband across the TV pondering and meditating on my deepest feelings about Christmas dinner to find inner happiness, I realized that one aspect of Christmas that has always stressed me out is trying to cook a big Christmas dinner. While my cooking has come a long way (pause as I give myself a pat on the back), it is seriously lacking in the roast/prime rib department. Unfortunately, the Big Giraffe's skills are on par with mine. The fact of the matter is that no one really likes any sort of roast that we make. (Yeah, I did make a great roast once, but that went, as it were to the dog.)
However, it seemed silly to throw up our hands and abandon making Christmas dinner to do something like order Chinese food or eat a frozen pizza like rumor has it I just may have suggested in the past. For all my joking around, both the Big Giraffe and I are capable of making at least a few tasty meals that won't give anyone diarrhea. Trying to find a meal that we both enjoyed making and both enjoyed eating might be a stretch.
That's when I realized that we could switch our Christmas Eve almost-tradition of fondue to Christmas day. The Big Giraffe and I do love making and eating fondue. We do it at least twice a year. I even taught my moms group how to make fondue a couple of years ago. I say almost-tradition because last year with a newborn and a 3 year old, it was just too much. Plus we were worried, probably rightfully so, about our older son (OS) being around an open flame. No, rest assured, we wouldn't have let him participate in fondue making. We would have, as we did this year, made him his own dinner.
A friend and her son were going to be our honored guests at Christmas dinner so I ran the idea by her. She seemed pretty excited about it too. Two days before Christmas, I sat down and did a bunch of searches for recipes. I wanted to try something new this year. I ended up finding the Melting Pot's recipe for a burgundy broth for cooking meats and vegetables and the recipe for their Green Goddess Dipping sauce. The big Giraffe and I had a wonderful Christmas Eve. After visiting the Sudbury Lights (which I wrote about over at the New England Mamas) we put the kids to bed and spent a relaxing hour chopping bread, veggies, meats and cheeses while I made 3 homemade dipping sauces, all accompanied by eggnog and Christmas music. It was a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve. (I will admit that it was more relaxing because only one kids gift required assembly this year and the assembly was very miminal.)
On Christmas morning, we just lounged around playing with the kids and enjoying our Christmas gifts. I have learned some valuable tips about lubing up before triathlons courtesy of a triathlon book I really wanted that my BIL and Sil gave me. Then it was time to pick up Sally HP and her son. Since all the food was chopped and prepared in advance, setting up the fondue was stress-free. The boys had hot dogs and Mac n Cheese which they finished quickly and then they went off to play. We adults had a wonderful time eating fondue, talking and laughing. It was a wonderful Christmas.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Sometimes the best traditions come out of doing something that's not traditional but that you really love doing.
We just do a bunch of appetizers on Christmas Eve, then whatever my mom feels like making on Christmas Day. This year it was a hamburger bake and cheesy potatoes. Yum for cheesy potatoes.
Do you know the fondue rule? If you drop your chunk of food in the sauce, you must kiss the people on both sides of you. I think this was back in the 70s though.
When I was in third grade, we got to make "gingerbread houses." This involved each child bringing in a box of graham crackers, a can of frosting, and a bunch of different candies to decorate our houses. My dad was in charge of buying the candy for me, and I remember my decorations consisted of a giant bag of Good N' Plenty. We spent a couple of afternoons working on it. By the time we were finished, I had lost interest in the house, but I did enjoy eating construction materials throughout the process.
At some point, I learned that gingerbread houses were made out of gingerbread and not graham crackers. No, Big Giraffe, that wasn't today. However, I never attempted to build a real gingerbread house. It just seemed like too much effort. A couple of years ago, my aunt was participating in her yearly tradition of baking gingerbread for gingerbread houses. She gets really into it and has the special pans, makes the dough from scratch and carefully decorates each house with a theme. She mentioned that she also uses wrapped candy, so that people can pick out what they want when they want it without creating any worry about dirt or germs. I asked the obvious question: well, what about the gingerbread? My aunt explained to me that actual gingerbread houses don't taste very good. First of all, they have to be fairly sturdy, requiring a distasteful amount of molasses in them. Second, after sitting out for a couple days they get stale; a baked item that looks good but that no one actually samples to find out that it tastes terrible.
That's when I realized that I had missed my calling. Really, it's the ideal dessert I could bake. Can you imagine how relieved I would have been if I showed up at the cookie exchange carrying gingerbread houses with wrapped candy on them for everyone and told people that these baked goods were for display and candy grazing only? I might not have been less stressed out about the process, because let's face facts - making 8 gingerbread houses is a lot worse than making 16 dozen cookies!
So you would think then that this year I would make my own gingerbread. That would be a fairly reasonable assumption, except that it just seems like a lot of work when I could just buy a kit at the grocery store. I actually think that buying was the right choice. My older son (OS) loved decorating his house, and he was so proud of the finished product. What he didn't love was waiting the fifteen minutes for the roof to set. In fact, he found the delay torturous. That's when I realized that he couldn't care less that the house wasn't constructed out of real gingerbread. In fact, he was better off with a kit. There's no way he would have patiently waited for the gingerbread to bake.
Of course that's not to say that I won't some day make gingerbread. It's just going to be when we can make it together and more importantly when it's something that he wants to do. And if it just so happens that he never wants to do it, well I won't lose any sleep over it. Like I said, when I was little I loved the graham crackers and the canned frosting.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Many times the easy way out works out the best.
I am laughing my butt off at the idea of a Good and Plenty-covered gingerbread house.
And wrapped candies seem a little germ obsessive to me. But of course you're talking to a woman who drank cactus punch from a plastic bucket in a parking lot of a church in rural Mexico...
The blending of two people or of two families can be fun but can have a few bumps along the road to say the least. Although my husband is Jewish, Santa used to visit his house when he and his brother were young.
Our first Christmas together Santa decided to visit our house as well. Santa filled the Big Giraffe's stocking with candy and small items and left a couple of presents under the tree. (The Big Giraffe and I exchanged gifts as well.) Santa left candy in my stocking and nothing under the tree. The next year Santa didn't leave the Big Giraffe as much but he left me more. Of course there were also issues with how Santa would wrap one of our presents, but not wrap the other. I'll leave you to guess who got the unwrapped gifts. We figured we would sort out the whole Santa thing before we had kids. Then we realized that actually we had quite a bit of time before they really caught on, although this year our older son (OS) is keeping a keen eye out for any Santa details. Most importantly we have been able to try out different traditions and see what we like and what we don't and change it. One year Santa didn't wrap any of OS's presents. It worked out well for Santa because he was a lot less stressed. However, the next year OS disregarded his birthday gifts in favor of the wrapping paper so Santa decided to wrap his gifts. We haven't received word yet on what Santa will do this year. I do remind OS that I am a personal friend of Santa's so I expect I'll be hearing soon.
Of course there are other traditions that are still works in progress. Like any great work, there's a lot of mulling, pondering, discussion and yes even arguing. You know that song the Twelve Pains of Christmas? Well tonight we lived that song, or at least the day of Christmas about the Christmas lights. We have yet to work out a good system, much less a good arrangement for our Christmas lights. Because of where our outlets are placed, it's hard for us to do anything too exciting without creating a dizzying array of daisy-chained extension cords in front of our doors. We want our lights to invite warm holiday feelings, not vicious lawsuits. As such, it's hard for us to get really excited about our lights. However, we're usually pretty good about getting them up early.
Not this year. We were great about getting and decorating our tree early. The lights were another story. Normally when the Big Giraffe hangs the lights from our gutters, he does a final gutter clean. This year we waited until late December, in fact today. Due to the weather this past week, our gutter was completely frozen. This meant that not only was he not able to clean our gutter, but we couldn't even hang the lights from the gutter. Hence, our lights are on our bushes. No big deal except that today it warmed up and all the ice that was in our gutter somehow, and I'm exactly sure how yet, managed to leak through our living room window and onto our couch. Hence an emergency call (read expensive) to our friendly handyman who's swinging by tomorrow. Fortunately it's freezing outside, so the ice is freezing again, thus stopping the leak.
How could I forget to mention that it's also the holidays? So while the Big Giraffe and I are truly the best of friends and partners in life, we may just possibly have gotten into a slight tiff audible disagreement about all of this. Wouldn't you know that a friend of ours just happened to drop-off a plate of cookies during the fight?
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Buy curtains and soundproof your doors!
Nothing like Christmas lights to bring on the stress. That's why I decided to assume control of the process. Things are much more peaceful now that there's juse one of us involved!
With the snow falling lightly on the ground all day today giving our town the classic New England winter look, the kids and I bundled up and got into the car. We had one perfect winter destination in mind: the pool. That's right, nothing says winter like swimming lessons. It seemed fitting that my older son's (OS) last swim lesson of the session was on a day when it was snowing. It was marking the end of a warm season activity. Of course, it turns out not to be the end. He loves swimming so much and has improved so much over the last few weeks that I immediately agreed to his request to continue the lessons and signed him up for the next session. Snow flakes, hot chocolate, lit fireplaces (in my mind at least), cozy homes and a wet swim suit. Actually, as a life long swimmer I have to say that it sounds idyllic to me too (and yes, if he didn't want to do it, I wouldn't have signed him up again).
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Nothing says winter like swimming lessons.
I've been considering signing Chicky up for some swim classes at the Y. My husband loves the idea (though he wouldn't be taking her) because he swam all through college and then coached for a few years in his 20s. But I'm not sure I could get myself motivated to swim when it's 15 degrees outside.
My daughter does swimming lessons all winter and loves it. I love it because it tires her out and I like to watch her enjoying herself so much while learning a useful skill.
I always knew that there would come a time when I would have to protect my kids from the dangers of the world. I know that I would walk across hot coals barefoot for my kids, but I just never knew when I would be called to do that. At some point my fencing skills from high school would be called upon to be used. Alright maybe not that last part.
On Wednesdays, my older son (OS) stays at preschool for lunch while my younger son (YS) and I are in playgroup. Since he not only views it as a special treat, but he will actually eat whatever I pack him, this arrangement works out well for the both of us. When YS and I went inside to pick up OS today, he told me that Santa had visited his classroom. (According to a note from the teacher, he asked Santa for a "surprise." He told me that he asked for a car just like mine that he can drive.)
When we were in the parking lot, YS started clawing at my neck, as if he were scaling me to try to get away from something. Unable to wriggle free, he started to bury his head in my neck. I couldn't figure out what was going on. Was there a coyote on the loose? Had one dinosaur escaped extinction and was coming out of hiding looking for his first meal in 62 million years? I tried to comfort YS, but all I could get was the silent scream. You know the one where the baby scrunches his face, gets all red, and opens his mouth but nothing comes out? You have approximately two seconds to brace your eardrums to protect them from being blown out. OS was alarmed too.
That's when I saw him. He was driving through the parking lot in a tan pick up truck, apparently on his way to visit the afternoon class. It was...Santa. OS was thrilled. YS still had the silent scream going, and he began clawing madly at me. Then Santa stepped over the line. He actually rolled down the window and...wished us a Merry Christmas. YS lost it. He began howling at the top of his lungs as we finished walking across the parking lot.
I had one kid tugging my hand wanting to follow the pick up truck as it parked and another one who isn't walking yet , but who would probably have jumped up and sprinted to my car if I had let go. My only question was how come the pickup truck wasn't red?
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Reindeer have a better union than Santa Claus; while Santa is driving around in a pickup truck scaring babies, they are resting in the North Pole until their single, annual night of work..
Yeah, I have one that LOVES Santa, one that is---just this year---able to get near him without panic, and one who is terrified. Makes for interesting photos.
Your walking over glass might impress everyone with your devotion, however it would do nothing to benefit your children. Half an hour a day playing Hi Ho Cherrio or tossing a ball with them might be of more value.
This is so common, sadly. I shared that with ys when I was little. Cable Girl at 42 wrote a funny post about it a week or two ago. Hugs to your little one!
12 dozen cookies later, here's what I learned, or better yet remembered, about why I don't like to bake:
All the washing! I had to wash down the counter tops for the millionth time today, tie back my hair, wash the new cookie sheets, wash out the stand mixer because it hadn't been used since the dark ages, wash out the cookie press and inspect to make sure that it hadn't been used unbeknownst to me for playdough, rewash the cookie press, wash the cookie racks, sterilize my hands, and make sure that I was "defurred" all before even opening the bag of flour.
I am a perfectionist, and it drove me batty when my cookies didn't look right. I made the worst ones by leaning on the cookie press too hard, doubling the width of the cookies. The next worst ones were missing a leaf that I had knocked off. Fortunately this didn't happen often. Unfortunately, I am neurotic so I would insist on redoing these cookies.
The smell of the cookies is now making me nauseated. Perhaps if I baked more I would get rid of my sweet tooth. Now there's a thought!
The cleanup.
I had this big image of cute little Christmas wreaths decorated with rainbow ball sprinkles to look like ornaments. All the better to nibble on when listening to Christmas carols on the radio. They would be the perfect size to dunk in a glass of milk or a cup of hot chocolate. You would look at them and be overwhelmed with the feeling of Christmas. Memories of your best Christmas ever would flood your mind. Maybe I'm getting a little too carried away here. Unfortunately, the wreaths proved to be incredibly fragile and instead of being worthy of a glass of milk, they were worthy of a gourmet baker. Since I'm not quite the gourmet baker, I used the cookie press's flower plate. I still put the sprinkles on them to make them look festive and therefore flood the minds of the consumers with memories of the best Christmas ever. Alright maybe so they would think "Hey I remember using these sprinkles to decorate cookies when I was a kid!"
One really great benefit of these cookies (unlike the recipe I originally chose) was that I was able to fit about 35 cookies on each cookie sheet. No, the official name of the recipe was not "The Lazy Cookie-Swapper's Cookies," but the recipe was clearly designed for the lazy person to make for a cookie swap! Of course I still ended up making 3 batches. I don't know what size cookies the recipe assumed when they said that each batch of dough would make 4 dozen cookies, because even though cookies don't get much smaller than what I made, I had to make three batches to get to eight dozen cookies. Alright that does include the batch that I burned. I was going to give them to the dog, but seeing as he's on special prescription low fat dog food, I decided to save them for the Big Giraffe. I'm kidding!
A Elliot's Lesson Learned:The point of a cookie swap is to swap for cookies that are better than yours.
I am laughing out loud here to your lesson learned! Too funny and too true :-)
But your cookies look yummy and I would be happy to get those in a cookie exchange.
I just posted the recipe and some pictures of nanaimo bar but I am guessing you won't be up for making that! It's pretty much fool proof though and oh so delicious
I've never been into baking. What a shocker, huh? It's something that I did from time to time growing up, usually around the holiday season, but not ever something that I wanted to do on a frequent basis. Actually, I'm honestly always a little surprised by my reluctance to bake because my favorite classes in my post-BA program were the labs. I just loved them. I loved following all the directions and having to be precise and accurate. I eagerly anticipated the final product from the experiment. I even enjoyed eating the final product writing up the labs. What can I say? I'm a geek.
I always want to enjoy baking more than I do. Of course this time of year I had images of my family and me curled up under a blanket by the fireplace nibbling on cookies and gently sipping hot chocolate while peacefully watching the snow fall outside. Yeah, I know again with the fireplace that we don't own. I decided to continue my campaign ignoring my lack of fireplace and begin one campaign to ignore the fact that nibbling on cookies is ludicrous when you can take big bites out of them or eat them whole and another campaign to ignore that fact that my 17 month old doesn't drink hot chocolate. Why spoil the dream? I thought it would be fun to participate in my moms group cookie exchange. That would be perfect because in exchange for whatever eight dozen cookies I baked at home, I would come home with eight dozen cookies of many varieties. Now we could be curled up under a blanket (delivered by our fully recovered and magically clean golden retriever) by the imaginary fireplace while daintily choosing the cookie of our pleasure and of course sipping hot chocolate while peacefully watching the snow fall outside. This was even better than what I first imagined! With such a dream, I would have agreed to participate in the cookie exchange even if I didn't do spinning class with the hostess.
So what cookies to choose? Of course there is nothing better than the cookies my mom and I used to make every year for my advisory's mother/daughter cookie exchange. (For my fellow New Englanders, an advisory is what we called our homeroom in the Midwest.) In fact I've made these cookies a couple of times since living out here. They come out well, and they look fancy creating the impression that I'm an expert baker. Alright, maybe expert is a bit of an exaggeration, but I have gotten a bunch of compliments on them in the past from people who have no reason to lie to me. I immediately signed up to bring them. They're spritz sandwich cookies with a layer of raspberry jam in the middle and one end dipped in semi-sweet chocolate and rolled in nuts.
When I shared this plan with my mother, she thought it sounded great. She even gave me some important tips:
Don't swear at the cookies
Be patient with the cookies or they'll break when I spread the jam
If I fail at the above two items, enlist the help of the Big Giraffe (or possibly the senior citizens who always walk in front of my house at noon. I didn't share this thought with her or with the senior citizens)
I felt confident in my ability to recruit other people to make cookies for me to make my cookies. Then I casually asked how many cookies come from one batch of the recipe. It only makes two dozen because they're sandwich cookies. Two dozen!!! I need eight dozen cookies, or again since these are sandwich cookies, sixteen dozen pieces.!!!!! This brought on much laughter, then and whenever I have thought about is since. As my mom pointed out, that's what a bakery would make. Did I mention that I only own one cookie sheet?
My new plan:
Use one of the 8,745,331 Bed, Bath and Beyond coupons lying around the house to buy at least one more cookie sheet (preferably two since my current sheet is not even a full sized cookie sheet but rather a small jelly lip sheet; I know this because my friend Betty who truly is a wonderful Betty Crocker type baker identified it for me)
I need to figure out where the my cookie press is. I haven't seen it since remodeling our kitchen two years ago. If I can't find it, I will use another coupon to get one
Shop for ingredients for a new, allegedly fool-proof cookie recipe that makes four to six dozen cookies so I will only have to double the recipe. Here's the best part: I can freeze the rest of the dough so the kids can make homemade cookies later and I can be supermom for one day!
Pretend that the new cookies were my intention all along
In the event that the cookies are a disaster, claim that I made the original cookies which were beautiful and on par with gourmet cookies, but seeing as the kids had diarrea, I didn't want to get anyone sick. No one will question that. Who says lying is always bad? I'll bribe Santa with a nice package of cookies from the store*.
So all is well. Sixteen dozen cookies, hah! That still makes me laugh.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Tis the season to be merry and joyous and also tell a little white lie when needed to ensure that you are merry and jolly.
*We're not allowed to bring store bought cookies otherwise I would already be all over that one. I did think of buying cookies and putting them in my own container just like in the book I Don't Know How She Does It.
Oh yeah I totally fell for the cookie exchange thing this year too. And I did bring home a nice fat tupperware full of delicious assorted cookies. Of course coming down with the stomach flu was not part of the plan so I guess I'll be saving the cookies until I'm done being sick. Good luck with the baking!
16 dozen cookies! My daughter's preschool class did an exchange last year (not everyone participated...not me!) and they had to make 11 dozen!
There is no way that I'm making 11 dozen cookies for anything. Plus I'd just eat them all myself anyway and I really don't need to gain any more weight.
Even with 2 cookie sheets that would take forever! There are easier recipes out there. How about chocolate chip cookies using red and green M&M's. Seriously. 16 dozen?
I hate getting involved with anything that involves making a mess and cleaning things up. (I've never lived anywhere with a dishwasher that was not human.) Hence: no baking for me, although once in a while I do enjoy it. (Like, every seven or so years.) A cookie exchange sounds, fun, though. I might be enticed to make a mess for a cookie exchange.
As for advisory, I actually think that our school is one of the only places on the planet to make up such a fancy name for homeroom. Just like forcing us to wear white floor length gowns and white tuxes to graduation, although I just found someone from New Jersey whose public school also had such an obnoxious and costly tradition. (Unlike us, they did not also have to buy their own books for class, though.) The pretension kills me. Wow, I can't believe how worked up I am getting right now. Sorry. I'll stop.
Thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving a comment, I love to get comments, especially from new people!
I was just reading some of your posts and laughing (not at you, with you!). You're very funny! Being that I live in a suburb of Chicago I am just a teensy big prejudiced about Chi Town myself, so I can relate! I love living here and it would be really strange for me to start over somewhere else. I give you credit for trying so hard! I have lots of baking to do today for my son's class party on Thursday. You peaked my interest with the recipe for those fancy cookies, they sound delicious, however, I am not the best baker, either, and I think they sound a little out of my league! :) Take care!
Yeah, I'd be coming up with a new plan too. 16 dozen cookies is one thing but then the jam and the chocolate and the nuts. Just buy some at the bakery and call it a day!
You know a real bakery not the one at the grocery store, those are kind of homemade aren't they?
*whispering* nestle's tollhouse chocolate chip cookies - get the place and bake ones from the store - then you and OS can just break them apart and bake them. throw on some random flour in spots, and it looks (and they taste) like you followed the recipe from the chips bag. always gets rave reviews. */whispering*
I was wondering why you didn't just buy those cookies and place them in your own container. I mean, you are just bringing cookies for exchanging - not for a contest!
Two posts in a span of just a few hours! That's a lot for me. It's amazing how quickly I've gone from trying to be sympathetic towards others who may be having a rough holiday season to hating everyone. The person I am most angry with is myself.
A while back someone in the "babysitting cult" had posted that she was looking for a sit on December 15th. It was for a good chunk of tokens and her kids are great so I immediately replied that I would take it. This upset someone else in the group who was pretty low on tokens. I should clarify that we use a list-serve and it's first come first served so to speak. I replied first, so the sit was mine.
It was around this time that my playgroup chose December 16th for a mom's group outing. That was fine too. As usual with a group, it took a little bit to find a date that worked for everyone. I was pleasantly surprised that we were going to be able to meet so soon. I honestly thought we would be looking at January or February.
Not too long after this was decided, a close friend told me about a welcome baby party she was having in my hometown. I don't think close friend is an understatement; I've been friends with her since we were 8, and she was my maid of honor. She was very clear that she did not expect me to go. She knew it wasn't much notice, it was close to the holidays, and that it would be expensive for me to fly in just for the weekend. The problem was I already had these other two commitments. Since she didn't seem upset that I wouldn't be able to make it, I decided to just skip it. In all honesty, I doubt I would have had a hard time finding a replacement sitter; I could have asked the person who was upset at losing tokens. I also think my playgroup would have understanding if I bailed.
I have to confess that I have thought about it more than a few times in these last couple of weeks. Between the excitement of seeing my friend and her baby, the opportunity to see my family, my homesickness, and the fact that I have gotten several phone calls from family and friends saying how much they would like to see me this holiday season, it was hard to turn my back on going. I mean who doesn't like those type of phone calls?
When today rolled around, there were sudden issues with the weather. I have to honestly say that I think people act bizarrely about the weather out here. There I said it, and I'm sorry if it offends those of you who live in New England. Everyone acts surprised whenever its well...winter out here! No Big Giraffe, I am not minimizing your 4 hour drive home from work on Thursday, but that was unusual.
Usually the roads are plowed so well and so quickly, that I am genuinely surprised when I get home from the gym in the morning to learn that school has been closed. Now this could very well be because I drive stick shift and live close to the highway; it's therefore rare for me to have issues. Of course the rational side of me knows that you should never take a chance. Better safe than sorry. That said, I realized that if I don't start living my life in spite of, rather than around, the weather, I'm going to pack on the pounds and no longer fit into my new smaller jeans that I've happily been wearing.
Lo and behold the event was canceled. The thing is, I am OK with the event being canceled. I wasn't even frustrated that somehow people ended up calling me all with conflicting messages, making it literally like a bad game (and bad use) of telephone. I was disappointed that none of the people who had previously been planning on spending an evening with me, appeared interested in talking to me. Unlike recent calls from my Chicago friends, the calls today were like pulling teeth talking to people on the phone. Seriously, it felt like given a choice between talking with me or the Grim Reaper, most of the people I spoke with today would have preferred the latter. In all fairness, there may have been times today where people on the phone with me might have struggled to tell the difference. I was not in a good mood by any means when I was calling people although I did try (probably not very well) to fake it. OK I may have told one playgroup mom that I hated all people today, but that was at the very end when I decided that I was pretty much through talking with people. I told the Big Giraffe that too. I may have also snapped at OS when he was whining around me for the millionth time today.
What I'm really upset about is that I didn't go to Chicago to spend time with people who wanted to be around me. I chose my MA life over my Chicago life this weekend because my MA life is in the present. I don't live in Chicago anymore. The people I'm around, whether playgroup people, cashiers at the grocery store, or parents at birthday parties who watch me spill coffee down my jeans are my reality. This is my life now. I made a decision, but I don't like the implications of that decision.
I'm bothered that this was something I was looking forward to and it was canceled. I'm annoyed that everyone was annoyed. When I come right down to it, I'm just annoyed with myself.
(Writing interruption to answer the phone. It was my Mom. Apparently the party was fantastic and everyone had a great time.)
OK, I'll also admit that there's a little part of me that is upset because I made the boys a chicken dish with canned cream of mushroom soup that they love, but I can't eat. Canned soup makes me break out in a weird rash. I wasn't planning on eating dinner here though. I've already been out on a safe, 40 minute drive this evening so there's no reason I can't go pick something up for myself!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: The snow is always better plowed on the other side of the country.
I used to plan "mom night out" dinners with an online group that I started. It has 30 members. I'd have 3 people show. It was soooo frustrating. So I stopped planning them. It makes me kind of hate people sometimes too.
Murphy's Law: Had you decided to go to Chicago, there would have been a huge snowstorm in Chicago and your flight would have been canceled, but only after you sat at the airport for 12 hours and missed your other event.
Don't regret it, and there is nothing wrong with choosing to live in the present. I also tend to find that when I think I am going to recapture some lost magic of Ye Olden Days, I come back depressed and disappointed because the more things change, the more they change. :)
I think I hear what you mean---I have a really hard time finding the same kind of friendships in my 'now' life as I had in my 'old' life, and I find myself wishing I could return back to my 'old' life at times. The friendships I've made since having kids are mostly circumstantial and will likely change as my kids' interests change. And, that is really no kind of friendship, imo.
Oh, Alex, I'm sorry everything sucked. Grrr... Like Heather, I've tried to plan things for my Mom's Group (of seven moms! Including me!) and everything goes to shit - either nothing gets planned b/c no one will agree on a date, or ppl don't write back. It's so frustrating.
I'm sorry you couldn't make the choice you wanted to make. I think we've all been there.
Here's to hoping things get better for you in the next week!
FYI - I spoke to my dad yesterday and he told me that it was an icy mess in Chicago all weekend. Hence I am certain you would have been subject to at least one airport hell and likely two.
I think I first heard about it in high school: depression and suicide attempts skyrocket around the holidays. I definitely discussed it in college psychology classes. The depression is often less severe, but still important, when it merely causes feelings of grumpiness and dissatisfaction to emerge.
It makes sense if you think about it. There's all the stress of trying to create the perfect holiday memories for your kids if you have them, possible feelings of unhappiness if you want kids but don't have them, possible feelings of unhappiness if you want to be in a relationship but aren't, any physical distance from loved ones who live far away, and difficult or non-existent relationships with those who you want to consider loved ones...I could go on and on. The approach of the new year can be an unwelcome reminder that you may have failed to fulfill your New Year's resolutions last year (unless you're like me and didn't have any). It really is a miracle that people look forward to the holidays at all! The fact of the matter is that many people are crabby this time of year. I don't even need tenured psychology professor to tell me this; I have the grocery store and Fa La La Lifetime to effectively deliver the message.
The grocery store cashier was completely taken back when I asked her how she was doing the other night. Now I know that some people do take the time to ask cashiers and others in service industries how they're doing, because I've seen it happen before, albeit not nearly enough. However, it became obvious to me that with all the hustle and bustle of the holidays and the impending storm, those feeling tired, stressed, or alone lost the opportunity to reach out to someone else who was alone, even though it could have made both feel connected. That is not to say that I've been all cheery and nice. In fact, I've been pretty crabby myself for a lot of this season. I just happened to be feeling calm and serene while at the grocery store, when I didn't have my kids with me. (Hmmm...Coincidence?)
So why do I feel alone in my holiday crabbiness? Well, except for Lifetime, psychology journals, and fellow brave bloggers, there isn't much societal acknowledgment of the holiday blues. The holiday magazines share pictures of euphoric families in Martha Stewart-style homes with unbelievably perfect decorations, meals, and gifts. It is as if everyone assumes that everyone else is in a perfect situation for the holidays.
When I was in junior high, I once borrowed my mom's coat for the day. I couldn't figure out why everyone was staring at me until a friend pointed out the button that I was wearing on the coat that said "Be kind, I have a teenager". I'm blushing from the memory, but you know what? It worked! People were very kind to me on the bus. I think that they interpreted my button to mean "Be kind, I'm obviously insane." That said, I am sure when it was properly worn by my mom, it probably generated a lot of conversation among parents, unlike my mom, who did have challenging teenagers, helping them not to feel alone in dealing with the stress.
In a day and age of open discussions about feelings, those of us who need them, should be able to wear buttons that say Stressed out by the holidays." If I saw people at the grocery store, mall, the Y, or the homes of my friends wearing such a button, it would certainly cause me to pause and give them a supportive smile. At least, I would be less likely to give them the finger if they did something minor that triggered a stress reaction from myself. Who hasn't witnessed that during the holiday season? (No, Big Giraffe, a button won't give you license to stress me out. On the other hand, I can't recall giving you the finger anyway.)
I was also thinking that perhaps some may want to setup automatic email responders for the holiday season. They could say something along the lines of "It's the holiday season. Don't be surprised if I forget to email you back." That would be for you, Elaine since as I write this post I am remembering that I have owed you an email for...a while. Perhaps mine could read "It's the holiday season, my dog's been in the ICU and I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that I'm now Santa Claus." I don't want to imply that pressing one button can be an easy solution to anything other than ordering office supplies, but the things that encourage us to connect and see ourselves as not alone, are the ultimate antidotes to the holiday blues.
Despite my initial December Blues, I am feeling a lot more chipper. Plus I had a great time at the mall last week with a couple of friends. (Dessert may really be the ultimate antidote to the holiday blues.) It's funny because whenever the malls start putting up the decorations, I think "It's so soon. Christmas is so far away." Then December hits and I think "Where did the time go? How is it almost Christmas?" I still have some more shopping to do.
Well, yesterday I spilled an entire cup of coffee all over my jeans at a birthday party that OS was attending while I was talking with a group of moms. Yes, another blushing recollection as I type. I calmly used what remained of my strength and dignity to pretend I was totally cool with it. Thankfully the coffee wasn't hot. Forgot the button, I think I just need a paper bag to wear over my head!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: You aren't the only one who is "Stressed out by the holidays"
What a great post to bring to light the "other" side of the holdays. I have always looked forward to them but I have been so blessed in my life to not be in a position to feel otherwise.
All anyone has to do to spread the joy is exactly as you mention, show kindness in situations where otherwise you could show indifference. What a wonderful world it would be if we all did that.
This year after booking my flight back to CA for 3 whole (!) days just on xmas, I've decided that I will lessen my stress by NOT traveling over the holidays again.
The holidays ARE very stressful. A lot of my stress I bring on myself, which is how I apparently like to live my life all the time.
It is funny how a small laugh at the grocery store line seems to lighten the mood of everyone around. Sometimes it is just the little things that make a difference.
BlogHer has a really great post about this subject, too. I think it is by Mata H.
I always hate New Year's because I get all excited that a new year is coming, and then around 4 pm on Jan. 1, I realize that nothing has changed and it's still all the same shit as last year. :) (Which is why my current good mood is all the more shocking.)
I've been having a serious case of SAD. Trying to fight my way out of it, though.
My birthday is tomorrow, so I tend to put off all holiday thinking and planning until after that, which means I get all stressed about ALL. THE. PRESENTS! I have to buy in 6 days time.
Yesterday before the snow storm hit, I ventured out to see my friend Martinez. She gave birth to a little boy in October. Martinez and I have been good friends since college. She is one of my older son's (OS) godmothers. I became friends with Martinez because she was constantly inviting me to do things. She would always organize outings, both outings that involved heading out on the town and outings as prosaic as marshaling a group to go to the dinning hall together for meals. Plus she's hilarious.
I asked Martinez the night before I visited her how breastfeeding was going. She said,"Breastfeeding sucks my asshole." (There's an image that would thrill Facebook.) Needless to say, it's been a struggle for her. She also said that given a choice between having to go through labor and delivery without an epidural or going through the first two weeks of having a newborn, she would pick the former. After having a long conversation about breastfeeding and lactation consultants, I decided that I will give a gift certificate for two appointments with a lactation consultant to the next good friend of mine who is pregnant with her first and who plans on breastfeeding. I don't know if any lactation consultants have gift certificates per se, but I can always print up a voucher for one and then pay for the appointment later. I am also going to include a list of phone numbers of breastfeeding resources with it.
This is the second conversation I've had in the past few weeks with a friend who came home from the hospital, was having major breastfeeding issues, and had no idea of a number for a lactation consultant. Since I barely remembered my own name during the first few weeks of new motherhood (and frankly sometimes now), that doesn't surprise me at all. Why not go cheap and stick with one appointment? Well, because I think breastfeeding is kind of like going to see the personal trainer. (That's not what I mean, Big Giraffe.) The personal trainer will show me an exercise, and the next time I'm at the gym and I do it all on my own, I'll get it about 80% right. To get it perfect, I have to have him show me one to two more additional times in separate sessions. That's how I felt with I met with the lactation consultants. That's why two appointments are key.
Martinez and I had a nice time catching up. Her baby is really sweet. We spent time discussing all the important aspects of new motherhood: sleep, food and how to ensure that you always have clean underwear (personally I stocked up before my kids were born). She also brought up playdates. This was kind of ironic seeing as I had just read Mayberry Mom's post on the subject. I had no real advice to give. I really enjoy having playdates, but I have a hard time arranging them, particularly with my older son. I don't understand the etiquette that goes with it since he's 4. Do I invite the parent? Do I pick up the kid and drive him home as has been suggested by some of his classmates (the problem with that one is that I can't fit another kid in my car)? How often am I supposed to schedule them? Really it reminds me a lot of dating. I even remember when I was a new mom reading an article someone wrote making that comparison. And it's not like I was ever uncomfortable initiating new relationships. I was the one who asked both my high school sweetheart and the Big Giraffe out, and I didn't even think twice about it. Yet I find it very stressful. Much better to spend today watching Fa La La Lifetime on TV when the boys were napping (okay and letting them watch the very end of it since they woke up before it was over! I had just spent two hours watching The Village Without Christmas. I wanted to know how it ended!)
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Playdates are like dating, except with more stress and without sex. Breastfeeding is like personal training, and also does not include sex.
Thanks, SMID! You're right about the lactation consultants. The one I had was great and was the person who told me not to breastfeed and that my kids would be fine. However, I've heard from others that not everyone has such a positive experience.
Yes, playdating is so hard! The ones we've had so far (that would be two) I've taken the kid home from school in my car and the parent picks up later. These kids are 5. I think 4-5 is when drop-off playdates start --maybe? Ugh, who knows!
The lactation consultant I had with my daughter was great. My daughter still didn't breastfeed, but the lady was nice. (Didn't need the consultant with #2.)
As for playdates, we usually drop off and pick up our own kid if we are not staying and having a mommy playdate too. We figure it's the least we can do if we're getting some kid-free time.
I found I had to connect with multiple LCs before I found the one who really worked for me. All gave me some good advice, but not all were the right fit.
Yes, my first 8 weeks of bf'ing were much harder than my 32 hour labor without pain medication. That I knew had an end in sight. The bf'ing struggles had no guaranteed end in sight. I'm glad I stuck it out, and bf'in did get magically easy after a while, but I have such a different perspective now on the subject. I'll be honest in saying I'm sad when people don't try it or aren't aware of the benefits, but I truly understand when people are not able to make it work.
And I, too, have made LC references and other bf'ing resources one of my new mom gifts!
You are going to have to read a long way through before the title of this post makes sense, but it isn't false advertising. I also promise this is going to be my last post about my dog...for now. However, this was a big deal to me. Hey, it's my blog anyhow!
I have a secret confession. Actually anyone who knows me would laugh to think I claim this is a secret. It's probably pretty obvious. Here it goes: I've never been entirely comfortable with my decision to decline my veterinary school acceptance. Alright in all honesty, I'm very uncomfortable with it. I know it was the right decision at the time, but it was hard. It still is.
One of the ways this discomfort has manifested itself has been my avoidance of Tufts. I volunteered there for over two years. It is the school that I would love to attend school day. Getting in there was a huge honor to me, and it still is. It therefore seems kind of funny, that it is such a big deal for me to consider volunteering there again or at the very least to donate unneeded linens. For the record, I do the latter, but as a drop and run. My stomach always starts to feel really funny, because every time I see the students, I think about what it would have been like and where I would be in my veterinary career if I had gone. I have never wavered on my desire to be a vet.
In addition to my difficulty in dealing with Gandalf's illness, I had all this extra baggage when I took him to the ICU. One of the veterinary students who attended to him went to my college and is a 4th year student just like I would have been. It was hard for me not to feel jealous and, okay I'll admit it, a little intimidated by her. However, spending time at Tufts four days straight has helped me overcome my fear and discomfort. I brought Gandalf back to Tufts today for an ultrasound, and when we left I realized how comfortable I felt there and how much I still really want to be part of it some day. There weren't any GI issues (for Gandalf or me).
Of course that didn't mean that there weren't other challenges with the trip. While my older son (OS) was in preschool when I dropped Gandalf off this morning, I took my younger son (YS) with me. He had a complete meltdown because I wouldn't let him eat the dog treats on the counter. After calming him down, I was left with a dilemma. I had Gandalf's leash in one hand, my non-walking son in my other arm, and I needed to sign papers. At the same time, Gandalf and two other dogs were doing Christmas caroling; at least their barking fest sounded like the dog version of Jingle Bells that I occasionally hear on the radio, with the exception that the dogs on the radio bark on-key. YS thought this was hilarious. (He was right.) This led me to believe I could safely put YS down on the floor for a split second to sign the papers. Almost as if he had been waiting for this moment, Gandalf stepped on YS, who acted as if both his arms and legs had been broken. He put up such a fuss that people came to see what was wrong. A very nice vet offered to hold "him" while I signed the papers. I wasn't sure if she was referring to the dog or the baby. I gave her Gandalf. Like my decision on vet school, I struggled with the decision. Unlike my decision on vet school, I am not sure that I made the right choice. However, it allowed me to complete the paperwork, leave the dog, and take the boys back to the car.
Speaking of questionable choices, I took both boys with me when I went to pick Gandalf up. Fortunately, they were very well behaved. OS even wore his Oscar the Grouch shirt from Suzanne and her hubby especially for the trip. OS was very impressed by the Gandalf's veterinarian. He was also intrigued by the temporary leash on Gandalf. It's one of those free ones that all animal clinics have. He started to ask a few questions. The vet asked him if he would like to have the leash. His eyes got wide and a huge smile broke out on his face. So yes, out of all of OS's holiday gifts (we distribute as he gets them from relatives), this is his very favorite gift. While it is not unusual for him to pretend to be a vet, he is now walking his stuffed animal patients (and in a few cases, Gandalf before I intercepted him) into our living room "waiting room" to meet their owners.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: The best gifts are free.
That's very cute and I'm glad he likes the shirt. I'm actually sending the kids a book tomorrow, assuming I survive a trip to a New York City post office during the holiday season. :) Glad things are looking up!
Gandalf is resting safe and sound at home. I was able to pick him up late this afternoon. Fortunately, a friend of mine watched the boys for me. I had visions of a beautiful reunion in the lobby of the animal hospital. The boys and I would be waiting with our arms extended to hug Gandalf as he came running into our arms. It would be in slow motion and the theme from Chariots of Fire would be playing in the background. Then I remembered the last time I took both kids to the vet with me and I felt like I needed a stiff drink afterwards or at the very least a prescription from the vet for a sedative for myself. Plus, today I also ended up with a surprise 25 lb bag of prescription dog food. There's no way I could handle an 85 lb golden retriever, a 25 pound of food, a 20 plus pound 17 month old who still isn't walking and a 4 year old who would inevitably have a temper tantrum and need to be carried.
Our happy reunion occurred at home. Then all three boys promptly watched Finding Nemo. OS requested it, and I thought that it would give Gandalf sometime to get readjusted before the boys started chasing him around the house. Sure enough, I soon heard OS practicing his imitation of the whale sounds from the whale in Finding Nemo. Then I realized I really was hearing the whale in the movie; OS was sound asleep. This isn't much of a surprise considering that both boys were up last night arguing at 2 am. After the Big Giraffe staggered back to bed, having failed to mediate the dispute, I got up and asked OS to explain why he was mad at YS. "YS is sleeping loudly, Mommy" OS announced in an outraged voice.
In honor of the birthday of my cousin Jennifer who said I must have been acting like a crazy cat lady in the animal hospital, and Gandalf's return, I thought I would share a crazy dog story. I actually hadn't thought about this in at least a year until Gandalf got sick. After completing my organic chemistry final exam as part of my post-BA program a few years ago, I was thrilled. If I could have set off fireworks, I would have. If you've ever taken orgo, you probably know what I'm talking about. Instead, I headed home to celebrate. Unfortunately, it was during the middle of the day and no one was around. Even worse, there was no evening celebration on tap, because the Big Giraffe was out of town. I was also honestly too exhausted for a real celebration. I thought the perfect thing would be to get carryout and rent a couple movies with a friend. Mrs. Chicky, if you're reading this, do not read this next part. I swear this is the only time I've done this. I went to Blockbuster and rented a few movies. Gandalf came with me and waited in the car. Then the two of us went to a restaurant by my house and I got carryout. Maybe that doesn't sound too weird. I had ordered myself a gyros and fries platter...and I ordered a platter for Gandalph too. I know! I know! Then Gandalf and I went home, popped in one the DVDs (I did, not Gandalf), curled up on the couch, and ate our sandwiches. We each had our own Styrofoam container. It really was a fabulous celebration. The irony of me feeding my dog gyros and fries was that I was taking organic chemistry as a prerequisite to applying for veterinary school. Hey they say the shoemakers' kids never have shoes. Maybe the veterinarians' dogs never have healthy dog food?
Now I'm off to change my name, appearance and move to an undisclosed part of the country since I can clearly no longer hold my head up high if I run into anyone I know in my real life. It was totally worth it though.
Yay for Gandolf being home and better! And I was laughing out loud picturing you picking him up at the vet with the kids and the 25lb bag of food... glad you left the kids alone because it was funny only because it didn't happen :-)
Vet or no vet, dogs get to eat junk food too! Sounds like a great buddy to celebrate with too, he wouldn never steal your thunder!
Maybe YS and Gandalf can switch the rooms that they sleep in. I am cracking up thinking about that argument, but you better believe that I am glad that I didn't have to mediate it. Fortunately, Theo sleeps quietly so Husband has no complaints.
Thanks to a very generous friend in my playgroup, the Big Giraffe and I just got back from visiting Gandalf sans kids. Originally I had planned to bring our older son (OS), but as soon as the thought formed in my mind, I banished it. The last time he and I had to leave one of our cats at the vet for tests, I thought that the vet was going to have to give OS a sedative to get him out of the animal clinic. He was completely hysterical that the cat wasn't coming home with us for a couple of hours. I can't imagine his reaction to an overnight stay.
Gandalf is doing much better. He's still over at the vet school where they're monitoring him. He's scheduled for an ultrasound on Wednesday, but we hope he can do that as an outpatient. When we saw him this evening, he was back to his usual self. He even checked out the garbage can, and for some reason the printer in the visiting room. He also delivered several hearty barks to the cats who were carried passed the door. It looks like he did have a partial GDV that untwisted itself. The vet said that no one will never know for sure. However, when she compared the x-rays at the animal clinic to the x-rays at the hospital, that was her best explanation for the difference. I'm really hoping that he'll be able to come home tomorrow evening. It's lonely here without him. I'm used to him following me everywhere. Plus now I have to actually sweep the crumbs off of the floor.
Thank you all for your comments and emails. I really appreciate them. For those of you who I know in my real life, I appreciated the phone calls as well.
Of course there were almost 24 hours of mayhem between my post last night and our visit to Gandalf. Last night, right after posting, I got a call from my cousin with whom I hadn't spoken in months. She was part my childhood posse who used to eat breakfast with Santa Claus. Apparently she and my aunt were nostalgic for those times, so this past weekend they went and ate breakfast with Santa again. It wasn't as much fun as they remembered, probably since they didn't have anyone under the age of 27 with them. I thought it was interesting that we were all thinking about it.
I told my cousin all about being homesick and obviously about our dog. We had a nice conversation. However she did point out that a sobbing woman all by herself in a vet hospital with her own stretcher means one thing: crazy cat lady. Looking back on it, she's totally right. We had a good laugh over that one. The people had no idea that I was there with a dog since he was being treated. The thought of what the other patrons must have thought when I was holding my own stretcher still makes me laugh. Who the heck owns their own veterinary stretcher? I must have looked like a nut.
Feeling totally drained from yesterday's events and battling the onset of a cold for the past few days, I decided to take a Tylenol PM and call it a night after getting off the phone. I didn't even bother to try and make my crack of dawn spinning class this morning. I went instead to the later class. I figured a bit of extra rest might help me to present a more sane appearance. As we were waiting for the door to the spinning room to be unlocked, I realized that not only had I not changed into my gym socks, but I was wearing bright Halloween socks. With my biking shorts, it was pretty obvious. Of course I had to run into three people I knew too. I guess there's a little bit of crazy cat lady in us all. At least that's what I would like to believe. OK please don't tell me if I'm wrong! It's been a rough couple days.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Sleep does not cause sanity.
Glad your dog is on the mend. Hope you can fend off the cold. A hot toddy always does the trick for me. And if I do end up getting the cold, I just keep the hot drinks flowing.
I'm so glad Gandalf is doing well! I have done the sobbing drive from vet office to vet school with the hours and hours of sobbing waiting room time. Mine did not end well, but I'm so glad yours did!
When I was a kid, I used to love the entire Christmas season, from the moment the first holiday song came on the radio. To me the holidays have never been about exchanging gifts (ok maybe a little bit), but about being with family and friends and doing all sorts of holiday-related things. When I was growing up, my extended family always got together for different holiday activities like breakfast with Santa or windowshopping at the decorated stores in downtown Chicago. My friends would get together for holiday shopping trips, particularly last minute holiday shopping trips. We would often catch a movie or go to a local restaurant and dessert place called Bakers Square afterwards. It was a ton of fun. Good conversations, cheesy Christmas decorations and festive music made it something that I looked forward to every year. When I went off to college and subsequently moved to the New York City area, I still came home around the holidays and met up with family and friends to do these things.
The holiday season has seemed a lot less festive since I moved to MA. I am not surrounded by the family and friends with whom I shared my holiday traditions. Breakfast with Santa was just a small affair with my husband, the Big Giraffe, and kids - no extended family. Last minute shopping trips are also on my own, and they are something I rush through, not something that I find to be fun. And there are never enough opportunities to go out for dessert. I know I should be really grateful. I have a wonderful family, we're all healthy, and we can afford to exchange gifts and have a nice Christmas. What more should I really want? I want to not feel homesick for those childhood experiences.
When I woke up this morning, I just couldn't seem to shake a feeling of self-absorption and self-pity. I was trying hard to find my "inner happiness" and to be in control of my own happiness, but really, I just wanted to go to my childhood home. This led to a "what the heck am I doing out here" conversation with a bewildered Big Giraffe that ended with me bursting into tears. Then I progressed down my normal emotional journey through the land of upset to a point where I brought up every person who I felt had wronged me in the past couple weeks my lifetime, including the couple who blew us off for Christmas dinner last year at the last minute because they had a better offer. (Even after calming down, that one still makes me mad.)
As I was really getting worked up, Gandalf vomited. He hadn't been acting like himself for most of yesterday, and by last night he had started getting sick. I was a little bit concerned, but he's a golden retriever, so he's always eating things that aren't fit for canine consumption. However, the vomiting continued and it started to smell. Even worse, Gandalf suddenly looked terrible. Minor concern turned to real worry. While the Big Giraffe stayed home with the boys, I took Gandalf to the vet for an emergency appointment. Gandalf walked to the car and from the car into the vet's office, but once he was there, he couldn't walk anymore.
The vet immediately gave him x-rays and put Gandalf on IV fluids. He told me he would give me a call when he had more info. I didn't even make it home before he called my cell phone. The test results suggested that Gandalf had a GDV. His best chance for survival was to get to the local veterinary hospital (at Tufts vet school) and, if the diagnosis were confirmed, have immediate, emergency surgery. I burst into tears as I drove back to the vet's office. The staff brought Gandalf out in a stretcher and loaded him back in my car. The tears continued to flow as I drove Gandalf to the vet school from which I once was supposed to graduate this May.
At the school, the veterinary students rushed out to take him from my car and put him on a gurney. Then I got to wait. It was agony and I felt incredibly guilty for being so self-centered this morning. Truth be told, Gandalf is one of my best friends. He's always happy to see me and spend time with me no matter what. He would never pass up time with me at the last minute for a better offer; in fact I bet he would just love to go out for dessert with me.
I sat in the hospital crying and wiping my nose with soggy, well-used tissues. Everyone else was there with someone else. No one would sit next to me, or the weird guy who was there with his dog. Even the weird guy was giving me looks. I tried to make small talk with a couple sitting next to me, but after a few terse answers, they got up and moved. Nice. No, they weren't there for an emergency. I tried to distract myself by reading a magazine, but my only choices were AARP or an August issue of People.
After eight hours one hour, the vet came out. She wanted to do more x-rays before the surgery. More time passed. I wondered how people with loved ones in surgery can handle the waiting. I made a mental note to myself that if I ever know someone who's sitting in the waiting room of a hospital (animal or human) that I will definitely go over and sit with them if they're by themselves. At the very least I will bring them a sandwich and a better magazine.
The vet finally returned with good news. Although the x-rays looked troubling, just as they were about to prep for the surgery, Gandalph started to walk. He was improving. The vet was very positively surprised. I felt like I had just won a million dollars
As the vet went back to perform additional tests, I was finally able to relax in the waiting room. I even located a box of kleenex. When a vet tech came out to return Gandalf's vet's stretcher, I even tried to make small talk with the weird guy, joking about my pleasure that the stretcher had not been lost. He reacted similarly to the couple; he inched away from me. Even he couldn't quash my happy spirits. To be fair, after observing my arrival with my own stretcher and my sob fest, he may be describing me on a blog somewhere as the "weird woman".
In addition to caring for the boys, the Big Giraffe had undertaken two missions. He had been scheduled to deliver the weekly welcome and announcements at church, so he needed to find a fellow church board member to cover. I had committed to babysitting for the daughter of a friend through the babysitting co-op, so that she and her husband could see a show. The Big Giraffe needed to find a replacement co-op member to cover. When I called the Big Giraffe to share the good news, he was ecstatic that Gandalf was recovering. He was also able to share good wishes from the church friend and the many babysitting co-op friends with whom he spoke during the day. When I got home, I received a very nice email from a friend in my playgroup. My parents were also very concerned and generously offered to foot the vet bills. If you have pets, you know what a big offer that is.
Gandalf is out of the woods, but he still needs to remain in the hospital for at least 24 hours. He still may end up needing surgery, but it looks like he will be fine. I'm ending the day feeling very lucky. Lucky and exhausted.
I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I'm glad to hear Doggie is getting better, and I'm sending super positive thoughts your way that he will make a full recovery soon. <3
Speedy recovery wishes to Gandalf. And I don't think you should feel bad for feeling lost earlier in the day. We all go through it. Incidentally, for many of the reasons you gave, the rate of people suffering from depression increases dramatically during the holidays, especially women. Hugs!!!
Boy, that post made me really, really nervous and a little teary there in the middle. I'm sending good vibes to Gandalf. Some to you, too. You have a right to your feelings, and it's okay to be self-absorbed somtimes.
Whew... Glad he's recovering. And the vet bills being covered is a huge present! Seems to me that even though you're far away, your family is still involved in your life... and that you have friends that consider you family... take care.
I'm so glad that Gandalf is okay. I hope that he comes home soon. And I hope that you aren't too hard on yourself for what were very legitimate feelings earlier in the day.
Oh, poor puppy! What a miserable day, but I'm thrilled you got good news in the end.
My parents have never been pet people but when our dpg had some mysterious seizures earlier this year, my mother called me almost daily to check on her. It was very sweet.
My older son (OS) attended another birthday party yesterday. This one was held at a place with giant inflatable bouncers. While the children get to bounce, run, and jump, parents don't have to do anything. We get to just hang back and talk. The birthday girl was a friend from OS's preschool, so you might assume that I saw many familiar faces. Not exactly. She had been in OS's class last year, while most of the other guests were from her class this year. Translation: I hardly knew anyone.
At one point, OS asked me to jump on the giant bouncers with him. There are few things that I am less inclined to do than jump up and down in front of a whole group of people, particularly strangers, particularly after my experience with the evil camera that ambushed me in Chuck E. Cheese the prior evening. I did the obvious thing and lied. I told OS that parents weren't allowed on the bouncers. OS believed me and went off to bounce on his own. Apparently I wasn't the only one to use that line because I heard several other parents deliver it. Then I saw a mom doing the unthinkable. She was jumping in the bouncer with a bunch of the kids. I was impressed but completely disgusted. Didn't she know she was making me look bad?
As I struggled to make small-talk with an adjacent mom, she confided that she had also chosen this place for her child's party because she didn't have to entertain her kids when they were attending a birthday party. I wondered if I had found a kindred spirit. Then she commented that the mom jumping on the bouncer should be nominated for mother of the year. I completely relaxed and felt comfortable at the party. I had found one of my own!
Unfortunately, my fellow mom wasn't the only one who noticed the bouncing mom. OS soon ran up to me and pointed her out. I had no choice but to say the obvious thing: that mommy had gotten special permission.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Perfect parenting makes real parents look bad.
My kids have been to a few parties at a place like this. Only one time did I venture on the equipment -- a giant inflatable slide. No jumping in front of other parents, that's my motto!
Thank goodness we've never been to a party like this. Although I'd have two legitimate excuses...I'm pregnant and I weigh too much. Never thought my weight would be a good thing.
When I was in first grade, I really wanted to go to Chuck E. Cheese. Everyone talked about how much fun it was. It was the "in" place to go. After completing a summer reading program at the library and winning a gold foil chocolate medal (it was the summer Olympics), a friend's parents suggested that we all go to Chuck E. Cheese to celebrate. I was beyond excited. When we pulled into the lot, I tossed my chocolate medal in the back seat and dashed through the front door. I thought it was fabulous. When I returned to the car, I found that my medal had melted, but I felt it was worth it for the thrill of Chuck E. Cheese.
Yesterday my older son (OS) attended a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. I was ecstatic to have the excuse to go to Chuck E. Cheese OS had never been to Chuck E. Cheese before, but once I said the three magic words "birthday," "party," and "pizza" he could hardly wait.
We walked into Chuck E. Cheese, and it wasn't anything like I remembered it to be. Of course the one I went to was in Chicago, but even still, this looked really different. There were a ton of games and rides which the kids were thrilled to play. There was a seriously creepy animatronics band on stage which some of the kids, including OS...alright and I...didn't like. (Imagine the Disney Country Bear Jamboree musicians on pot.) If you're not in the know, Chuck is a mouse. He actually comes and greets the birthday boy and his guests. OS was not impressed. In fact, the closer Chuck came to him, the close OS edged over to me. I was pleased with OS's good instincts. I hovered over my younger son (YS) when Chuck approached, since Santa had brought him to hysterics over the weekend. I was prepared to wrap him in a big hug at a moment's notice. Much to my surprise, he loved the mouse. In fact, YS wanted to rub his pizza covered fingers all over Chuck's pudgy cheeks. Go figure!
After eating some not-so-great pizza, which the kids absolutely loved, we ventured out to play more games. I carefully steered clear of the most terrifying ride in the place. Was it a roller-coaster or super-spinning ride? No. It was a ride that took your child's photo while he was riding it. In my prior encounter with this terror-spawning device, I reached out for the piece of paper that it printed, and instead of seeing a cute photo of YS, I saw a not so cute but totally terrifying photo of my middle. Seriously, I think it's the worst picture I've ever had taken. Obviously pizza stains covered the "See what you look like when you're 9 months pregnant with your 4th child" label. The photo was so terrifying that two of my friends wouldn't let their son ride it because they were scared that their photos would be taken.
If I had a fireplace, this photo would have gone right into it. Yet, one more reason to want a fireplace! Instead, I have to look for a top secret location to hide this photo so that it can't be found and used as blackmail me some day. (No, Big Giraffe, the scanner is not a good "hiding place.") I considered putting it in my compost heap, but at the rate that it's breaking down, the picture would still be around 3 decades from now. On a positive note, when I caught a glimpse of myself in my swim suit at the crack of dawn this morning when I went swimming, I was genuinely pleased with how much better I looked than in the picture. Perhaps the mirrors have a "see what you look like if you keep working out" feature built in them.
After cake (regular and then ice cream) was eaten, they gave high school wall-colored cotton candy to the birthday boy (I'm thinking that there was something wrong with the dye?), who then opened his presents.
Of course the scariest moment of the evening belongs to the Big Giraffe. He came directly from work, so he did not arrive at the same time as the boys and I did. I left the party a few minutes before he did, and they almost didn't let him leave with the boys because he did not have the appropriate hand stamp. Apparently one of the employees took OS aside to have him vouch for the Big Giraffe. With a four year-old, it could have gone either way, particularly at 8pm in the evening of a nap-free day. Fortunately, OS chose that one time not to be silly, and they all made it home safely.
The boys had a blast! This morning OS was talking about how much fun he had. As for me? Well, given the chance, I would have much preferred to eat a gold foiled chocolate medal. And this time of year, it wouldn't have melted. Where's that Hanukkah gelt when I need it!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Chuck E. Cheese is pretty scary
I thought we had Showbiz Pizza when we were kids, but maybe Chuck E Cheese came later. Eventually, they took over Showbiz, but I went there for Marc Rubinstein's birthday party in first or second grade and had the greatest time ever. Come to think of it, Marc Rubinstein also had a carnival game themed bar mitzvah. He had some good parties and was a nice guy to boot.
I agree with you, the Chuck E's pizza is a close second to cardboard... we don't have the scary band but we have Giant Robot Chuck E. that strikes fear into all children who encounter him.
Obviously these places are designed by people who either don't have small children or haven't had them for some time
Chuck E. Cheese is the last place on earth I'd like to take my kids! We went to a party there last year and it was awful. Sure the kids had a blast, but I was completely overstimulated! That and Einey (the oldest) got discombobulated up in the overhead climber thing, luckily a friend led her to safety. And I had to climb up in the thing to grab Moe, who while not stuck, was insistent on getting up there(she was 2!)
Sometimes I wonder if the other people who read this blog think that I am a total lunatic, as my comments never are in sync with anyone else's. Of course, this makes me laugh.
Prior to marrying me, the Big Giraffe had been a life long New Yorker. He is also Jewish. Sometimes I'll joke around ask him if he ever thought he would one day be living in the suburbs in Massachusetts with two kids, two cats, a dog and a Christmas tree. Obviously the answer is no although he tries to phrase it nicely...unlike some of his friends who nicely but bluntly told me that they would have never pegged the Big Giraffe as the suburban with a small zoo and a Christmas tree.
While I know we put a lot of effort into making our first Hanukkah together special, I can't recall what we actually did. (Since I was in the middle of finals for my post-BA program, I'm guessing it involved takeout.) I do remember how challenging it was to find Hanukkah candles. In NYC, they were sold on every block. They were not as prevalent in our new neighborhood. As the Big Giraffe joked at the time, I was probably the second most Jewish person in our neighborhood since I am genetically half-Jewish. After both of us struck out in several locations, I decided to try the Hallmark store. I walked in and doubtfully asked the saleswoman if they happened to carry any Hanukkah candles. She got all excited, calling over two co-workers to inform them that I was looking for Hanukkah candles. All of them led me in a procession over to a giant display of the most beautiful Hanukkah candles. I'll tell you one thing, it was one of the best customer service experiences that I've ever had. I also got the impression that I was the only person to actually purchase any of the candles. I still felt that way in January when I was able to buy a large amount of candles for 70% off. You might imagine that I would never need to buy candles again, but I can't seem to find the top secret location where I put the candles.
This year we bought our candles at the Yankee Candle Factory. No one walked us over to the display, and no one seemed even remotely excited that we were buying them. However, we did get another beautiful set of candles, and this is the first year that my older son (OS) is really excited when they are lit. In fact, he was twice as excited this evening as he was yesterday, not because we were lighting two candles, but because he apparently thought that once we lit candles last night, we were done for the year. His face glowed more brightly than the candles!
Bluntly and honestly, I would never have pictured BG outside of NYC either, but that just shows what a lack of imagination I have and how wonderful it is that people find themselves in situations that they love but might not have believed possible. (I hope this is not sounding insulting because I don't intend it that way...) let's put it this way: I also never pictured myself married to a guy who works in finance, and I suspect that you would never have thought this possible for me either! :)
Enough blathering - glad OS is enjoying the Festival of Lights. This post warmed the cockles of my super cold (literally, it is damn cold here) heart.
Have a great holiday! We are in the same situation when it comes ti two religions in the household, tho' in the D.C. area, it's a bit easier to find the candles!
I tend to buy stuff at the end of holiday seasons, too, and forget what I bought so each time I pull out the boxes for a new holiday it's like getting presents! :)
Sunday night it snowed. Hey, it's November. No big deal. Except it was for me because it was the first time I had to scrape my car before leaving for my spinning class at an already insane hour. I'm guessing a lot of my usual classmates weren't ready to set their alarms ten minutes earlier, because there were only three of us in class plus the instructor.
I don't remember exactly how it came up, but the discussion turned to bikes (apropos for a spinning class). Specifically the discussion turned to the fact that I currently do not own a bike. I mentioned that while I use clipless pedals in class, I am nervous about using them on a bike because...well...frankly I have a hard time getting my feet out of them. I don't like the idea of having my feet stuck to the pedals while falling. For the record, I've gotten better, but I still have a long way to go. At least all the pros have stopped visibly laughing at me. Everyone convinced me that the clipless pedals are both safer and more efficient.
I also got some less surprising information. For example, I was informed that I will be embarrassed when I fall off my bike. (I hadn't assumed that would be my biggest moment of glory.) Hmmm...I have a pretty good track record with getting myself into embarrassing situations. How is it then I have never considered taking up biking before? It seems like a perfect fit for me. I had a flashback to last week when I used Fuchsia Fatale nail polish (no, I'm not making that up) to stop a very large run in the thigh of my nylons after putting my thumb through them. I ended up deciding to ditch the nylons and just be cold. However, I completely forgot about the nail polish until I was in the middle of spin class the next day. What brought it back to mind? Well, I was initially flattered when some of my classmates seems unable to stop staring at my thighs. Then I realized their looks weren't exactly admiring. I snuck my own peek, and I saw three bold and not so neat Fuchsia Fatale stripes extending below my biking shorts. Like I said, I'm no stranger to embarrassment.
The three more experienced bikers clarified to me that it's not if I fall, but when I fall and that it won't be the one time that I fall. Apparently one of the most common situations for falls is at stoplights because bikers forget to brake and pull their shoes out of the clipless pedals until its too late. I stated that I could handle that. Particularly because the next comment was that most falls happen when bikers are either going one mile an hour or standing still, again because they can't get their shoes out of the pedals in time. I said that I was sure that it would happen. I meant it. I can't get my shoes out of the pedals of a stationary bike in time, much less a moving one.
Another classmate pointed out that I was most likely to fall when I was standing talking to someone at the beginning or end of the race and only had one shoe clipped into the pedal. Hold it right there! I thought that no one noticed when I almost fell off the stationary bike last week in class when I was talking to someone and had only one foot clipped into the pedal. Obviously my little secret wasn't as little or secret as I thought. Or maybe it really is a common biking and triathlon hazard, in which case I fit the sport more perfectly than a shoe fits a pedal.
Everyone then started discussing the triathlons in which they were planning to participate. When I shared the event that has attracted my interest, the instructor actually suggested that I do an additional triathlon. 50 minutes later, all sweaty from spinning, I came home mulling over the idea of doing not one, which would be a huge accomplishment for me, but two triathlons. So after a little more mulling and cajoling talking to a friend who had agreed to do the first triathlon with me and finding the registration on-line last night, I did it. I have officially registered for my first triathlon. So you're probably wondering, as my husband the Big Giraffe did, what the instructor said to me to convince me to do an additional triathlon. I would be happy to share how I made my decision. There's just one catch: it's New England specific and it's Wednesday so that explanation may be found at the New England Mamas. Come on, you know you want to read it. I even share a little embarrassing spinning confession.
There's a great blog out there called the New England Mamas. OK so maybe I'm a little biased because I contribute to it every Wednesday. Biases aside though, it's a really fun blog. There are 23 contributors from all the New England states. Two to three bloggers post every day including weekends. The posts run the gamut from suggesting places to go in New England, discussing New England sports (which are looking pretty good today, sorry Big Giraffe), arguing about politics, sharing parenting stories and advice, you name it. In honor of our switch from Blogger to Typepad, the New England Mamas is giving away free stuff having a contest. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on this post over at New England Mamas. Just so you know what you might win, here's a sampling of the prizes:
Little New Englanders t-shirts and onsies
Brooks Pond cover for infant carriers and strollers
Yellowwhale Photography gift certificate for a free sitting
I won't waste time typing the full list of prizes, since you have to go over to New England Mamas anyway to leave a comment for the contest. I think some New England blogger who's originally from the Windy City may have donated some Dunkin' Donuts gift certificates because she is quite impressed with how ubiquitous Dunkin Donuts is out here. Plus she also likes their coffee...alright and the mysterious donuts that have a way over making their way into her car.
I put up a widget at on the left hand column of this blog that shows all the current posts on New England Mamas. Have I mentioned that the blog is called New England Mamas? How about that I post there on Wednesdays? Did you know that tomorrow is Wednesday?
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: New England has four seasons, six states, and a wicked lot of blogging mammas.
Needless to say, my husband and I try to be open minded parents. We both are very socially liberal, and we both grew up in households where sexual development was openly discussed. In fact, when I was pregnant with my younger son (YS), we bought 2.5 year old OS his first book on how babies are made. So far, we've tried to answer his questions openly and honestly even when his questions involved his asking our friend Suzanne (and everyone else within Friendly's) whether she remembers when he was growing inside of my uterus. Unfortunately, four year olds don't come with a volume control switch.
I was therefore quite excited when I learned that sexuality educator Logan Levkoff, MS was looking for places to do a virtual book tour for her book Third Base Ain't What It Used to Be. I was even more excited when she picked Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting for one of her stops! I liked Logan's book because it's upfront and honest. She threads her own personal stories throughout the book while also explaining to parents why it's so important to have conversations about sex with your kids. She also gives lists of common questions asked by children so that you have some idea of what to expect, and she offers examples of how to answer the questions to provide a potential reference point. I took advantage of this interview to not only delve into a few of the intriguing areas of the book, but to resolve a question that came up in my moms group last week about explaining inappropriate language to kids.
Alex:One of the interesting dichotomies in your book is that it advances both the liberal perspective that knowledge about sexuality gives children power, while advancing the conservative perspective that parents should be the ones doing the teaching. Can you explain how these concepts go together?
Logan: I love this question - because it just goes to show us that we can all really get along. And the funny thing is, I am by no means conservative. I am a huge supporter of comprehensive sexuality education (in schools and taught by well-trained people). However, I do know that with the abstinence only agenda, it is impossible for us to rely on our schools to talk to our kids about sex. The majority of American parents support comprehensive sex ed and often (and incorrectly) assume that their schools are conducting it. That being said, why are we even relying on our schools to do the bulk of what is our responsibility as parents? Isn't this what we signed up for - talking about the good, the bad, and sometimes, the ugly? I think that I am tough on parents. I had a parent say to me once, "Thank you for doing my job." That frightened me. In a classroom, my ability to inform and educate is limited to the class period. Comprehensive sexuality education should supplement the education that we as parents give on a daily basis. Comprehensive sex ed can reinforce the facts, but ideally, we should be talking to kids about our values. (And sometimes that means being very clear about what our values are - is it really that we want our children to grow up without a healthy sense of their sexuality? I don't really think that's the case.) But to answer your question more succinctly, there is no reason why comprehensive sex ed and parent-based sex ed can't coexist peacefully (and effectively).
Alex: I enjoyed the different approaches that you shared for educating children about sex. You encourage parents to share their own experiences both as a way of connecting with their kids and as a way of providing examples of both mistakes and good decisions. I had always heard, but not believed, that it is better to keep your own past private from your kids. How do you address that perspective?
Logan: Without our pasts we couldn't possibly be the adults we are today. Those choices and experiences give us insight and perspective. Sometimes those insights are really what our children want to hear. By offering them a glimpse into our worlds, we send our children the message that we care enough about them to invite them into our life (in a new way). This doesn't mean that you have to share every little intimate detail with them, but you can tell them the context in which you and your friends made decisions about sex. When were you allowed to date? What did "going out" mean? Were people concerned about safer sex? What did your media look like? We have an incredible opportunity. Children want to get information about sex from us; they know that their peers aren't sufficient (or well-informed) educators. We have the opportunity to really make a difference in their lives.
Alex: I loved your story about the Vaginal Pride sticker that you innocently stuck on your notebook in high school that led people to believe that you were a lesbian. It seems like there is a lot of confusion about what sexuality is. I imagine that makes it hard for parents to educate their children about it. Would you mind explaining what exactly sexuality is?
Logan: Hope you weren't looking for a simple definition - because there just isn't one:) Sexuality is an innate and wonderful part of our identity, and it is far broader than our sexual orientation or whether or not we have had "sex". Our sexuality includes our sense of gender and how we express it, our body image, how we communicate, pleasure and intimacy, our reproductive drives, and yes, our sexual orientation, sexual behaviors, and desires. We express our sexuality differently as we grow up. It is by no means static. The main idea is to explain to kids that we are all sexual beings - regardless of whether or not we have had sex. We want them to respect their sexuality because it is such a big part of who we are and a tremendous part of our overall health.
Alex: You book is very supportive of masturbation. Do you find that parents, particularly parents of girls, have a hard time hearing that?
Logan: I think that teen girls have a hard time hearing that:) And some of this depends on age, too. When toddlers and little kids masturbate (both boys and girls), it's not consciously sexual. It just feels good. And it's cool. Wow, look what my body can do!
But as a whole, there are so many problems with assuming that only boys masturbate or worse, thinking that only boys should masturbate. I fear that when a girl doesn't feel good about her vulva, if she thinks it is dirty or gross or smelly (or all of those other negative descriptions that we heard growing up), she winds up making poor choices when it comes to sex. And if she doesn't know the power (and pleasure) that she can get from touching her own body, she learns to rely on partners to "make" her sexual - to "make" her feel pleasure. That may never happen. And girls need to know that they are capable of sexual pleasure and satisfaction on their own. That doesn't mean that masturbation should be a substitute for intimate connections with another person, but girls who are confused, curious, and desirous (as many hormonal teens are) may seek it out from someone else because they are not empowered by their own bodies.
Alex: I particularly liked the way you encouraged parents to share both sides of the arguments for different, difficult decisions including abortion and sex. I agree that facts need to be presented as facts, regardless of whether or not a parent agrees with the implications of the fact, but I also know how difficult it is to explain something that conflicts with your values while still articulating those values. Can you share why it is so important to do both?
Logan: There is no doubt that it can be difficult for parents to present both sides of an issue, especially when they feel passionate about that subject (abortion and premarital sex are two examples of those tough topics). And there is no reason why you shouldn't express your personal values. However, one of the skills our children lack today is the ability to think critically. We can teach them to do so - to look at a subject and explore both sides in an intellectual way. While they are young, chances are that their values will be similar, if not identical, to yours. So even if you provide them with the counterpoint, it doesn't mean that they will adopt that belief. When they are teenagers, they become far more sophisticated, and will want you to be honest with them about an issue. They will be suspicious if you don't tell them the whole truth (especially when it comes to factual information). In Third Base..., I tell parents that it's okay if you don't believe in masturbation, but you can't tell your children that bad things will happen to their body if they choose to do so. If our children find out that we haven't been completely forthcoming, they will look elsewhere for information (and stop using us as a sounding board). But we should keep in mind that eventually children become teens and teens become adults who start to make their own independent decisions about how they live their lives. What we can do is lay the groundwork and know that we have provided them with the tools necessary to create their own set of values, whatever they may be.
Alex:In explaining the importance of being open and honest right from the beginning with young kids, you included an example of acknowledging when a baby boy has an erection. I took that advice when I changed my one year-old son's diaper in front of my four year-old son. My four year-old was impressed that there was a name to go along with what he was seeing, and it turned out to be an easy conversation without any embarrassment. I am interested in how open you believe parents should be around the negative use of adult language. For example, a friend recently overheard her six year-old son calling her five year-old son a douchebag. Another friend was recently asked by her nine year-old daughter to explain what "the finger" means. My friends could not come to a consensus as to whether they should define the technical meaning of douchebag and "the finger", the implied meaning, or nothing at all. What do you think?
Logan: First, with respect to the "douchebag" issue (that sounds funny), I would ask the 6 year old where he heard that term, and what he think that it means. From there, you can gauge where to take the conversation. But "douchebag" is tricky, because women shouldn't be douching in the first place (it's bad for the vagina). I don't think that you have to go into the intricacies of why people douche, but I do think that if he asks what it means, you can say that a douche is something some women (definitely not all) use to clean their vagina - assuming that he knows what a vagina is:) And from there, he probably won't want to use the phrase, because to him, it doesn't make sense as an insult. (Quite frankly, it doesn't make that much sense to me either.)
As for "The Finger", start the same way. Ask what she thinks it means, how it was used when she heard it, and find out if she knows what finger we are actually talking about. I don't think that we have to tell our children that "The Finger" is synonymous with "Fuck You", but we can say that people use the finger as a means of being disrespectful to someone else...and it is always better to use our words and talk something through than to be rude.
Alex:I know the point of your book is that parents are the best educators. At the same time, I found your personal stories really connected with me, and brought back memories from my teenage days that I had forgotten. Would you consider writing a book for teens?
Logan: I would love to write a book for teens. I hope that there would be interest for it. Perhaps you have figured out my next project! Do you think that they would learn from the experiences on their own or a sex ed book for them that incorporates those stories
Wow that was really interesting to read. I haven't been real up-front about sex with my kids, but I answer their (few) questions as honestly as I can...
Sounds like a good book! I am really up front with my kids (check out some of my recent conversations with my boys) about sex, body parts (hate cutesy names), and why my 8 year old can't sleep at his friend's house (a girl). It is really helpful to be up front from day one. I don't relish saying "vagina" and "masturbation" with my kids, but I don't hesitate, either. Justin was told that the sleepover was out because 8 year old kids can get curious about their bodies which can lead to inappropriate touching. This conversation then led to sex, babies, diseases, maturity, etc.
Who Likes Santa? Who Likes Cookies? Who Dislikes Wreaths?
We took the kiddos to go eat breakfast with Santa today. Our older son (OS) pitched a fit as he walked in and said he didn't want to see Santa. However, when Santa came to our table, he lit up. Our younger son (YS), who had been all smiles about the outing, burst into hysterical tears as soon as Santa appeared. His cries got even louder when Santa pulled on his beard (Santa's beard, not YS's beard) and told YS that he was Santa. I don't think YS liked Santa talking to him and I know he didn't like Santa.
The boys did agree on one thing. They both liked getting cookies from the elves. All in all, it was exactly how I remembered going to eat breakfast with my brother, my cousins, and Santa when I was a kid. There was a lot of crying and several meltdowns all turned to happiness by sweets.
After everyone was holding a cookie, we went to get a Christmas tree. I can honestly say that this is the earliest by far that I have ever gotten a Christmas tree. While the Big Giraffe was securing the tree onto the roof of the car (or apparently supervising the guy from the tree place who secured the tree onto the roof of the car), the boys and I were looking at the wreaths. They really did look pretty. In fact, I even told OS that he could get one. I casually inquired to a woman working there how one might go about disposing a wreath. She looked at me like I was nuts and said that I would throw it in the woods, of course. I mentioned pulling out the wires (which I am convinced I did before composting my last real wreaths, despite what the Big Giraffe says). She looked a little relieved as if I weren't as big of a lunatic as she had previously thought. She reassured me that all I need to do was remove the wires and decorations and then simply throw the wreath in the woods somewhere. The keyword being "somewhere". We don't live by any woods. This all sounds good in theory, but I noticed that she wouldn't put it down in writing for me. I don't know whether a note from a reputable nursery would hold up in court if I were prosecuted for unlawful disposal of yard waste, but it couldn't hurt. Fortunately, OS had his heart set on a nice small centerpiece of pine branches in a basket.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: You are legally responsible for your own decisions regarding how to dispose of a Christmas wreath.
This will be MJ's first year with Santa. If she's anything like her mother she will HATE him. (as a kid there was nothing I found creepier than the idea of a big fat bearded old guy I didn't know breaking into my house in the middle of the night).
Breakfast with Santa...that sounds fun I don't think we've got anything like that 'round here. Of course maybe I'm just not looking in the right place. I think the twins are finally old enough so they won't freak at the thought of Santa .
Soccer Mom in Denial is declaring January 10, 2008 to be a very important day. She's right. It's my 32nd birthday! Alright, that isn't the part that she is declaring special. She is declaring it to be A Day to Read and no, reading blogs is not included.
It's supposed to be a day to pick up a book or magazine and do some good old-fashioned non-electronic reading. The point is that in our busy lives, it can become so easy to forget about reading. We encourage our kids to read, but when was the last time we picked up a book and read it? That's not actually a good question for me because one of my eccentricities, I know you're shocked that I have them, is that I can't fall asleep unless I read for at least a half hour before bed. Unless of course I am babysitting for the babysitting cult co-op, in which case I will manage to dose off at someone's house once the kids are asleep after reading for about 10 minutes until I drop the book on the floor and it wakes me up. I don't know what's up with this except that it's happened to me two sits in a row now. My only theory is that I was pretty cold during them, so I was bundled up on the couch in my winter coat, which is very similar to being curled up with a blanket and reading.
Have no fear, those who use me as a babysitter. I am a very light sleeper, so if someone were to tackle a sibling, turn the stove on, or decide to go for a midnight stroll, I would immediately wake up. Really I am responsible!
All that said, I am not going to promise not to blog on my birthday, but I absolutely plan to read a real book on that day as well. I invite you to join me.
SMID's Lesson Learned: On January 10, 2008, "take part of your blogging time to read. A book. A magazine. The newspaper."
Professional Mom of two cats, a dog, an ant farm, and oh yeah...two boys: a 6 year old and a 3 year old. Also found in my house is my husband who is known on this blog as The Big Giraffe.
For those of us who didn't get an instruction manual with our babies and for whom parenting hasn't always gone as planned. On a more serious note this blog is about supporting a woman's ability to make her own choices about parenting including the choice, for whatever reason, to bottle feed her babies formula.
Happy New Year to the Elliot clan!