Because I am concerned about lowering the rate of teenage pregnancy, I have decided that it's time for me to do my part. There comes a time for each and every one of us when we are called to duty. A time when we must make sacrifices for the good of a cause. It is tough, but we must hang strong! We can prevail if we set our minds to it!
In that vane, I have decided to rent my kids out to teenagers who are contemplating having unsafe sex. That's right, I'm setting up several package deals so that these teenagers can have my kids for the day so they can truly consider the consequences of their actions. My bonus package includes taking the boys to the Field Museum in Chicago. This package is complete with a 4 year old who will meltdown and scream the whole way out of the museum as well as a 19 month old who will try to "investigate" the toddler toilet while you are using the adult toilet in the individual family bathroom you have declared ingenious only moments before. I will also offer the To the Moon and Back Package package. This is for teens who feel that it's well and fine that my kids may give me a hard time, but if they were their kids they would be perfectly behaved. In this deluxe package, teens can watch my kids for two whole weeks. At the end of that time, they can take my kids to the Field Museum and see how they fare. Prices vary depending on locations. Does not include airfare, housing, and tax.
Check out my post and others over at the Writing Game today.
Dude, so true. My sister, who has a 10 year old and tried for a number of years to have a second, has declared herself to be completely free of the child-itch after having my kids in her house for three days.
I am willing to contribute a 3.5 year old and 2.5 year old in case playdates at or around the Field Museum are needed. I must add, that perhaps a bonus package including the opportunity to take the children to Old Orchard or Northbrook Court Malls at 3 pm on a Saturday during the Pre-christmas sale season should be offered as well. No earplugs will be provided.
Ha! so true. I overhear teens at the park talking about when their going to have babies and while my first thought is "what the hay?", my second thought is "here, hang out with this monkey for awhile and see if you still want to be a "baby momma".
Apparently you feel that time spent with your children, who are healthy and don't always do what you want, would dissuade any girl from having children. If you had had such an opportunity five years ago, would you have made a different choice?
The difference between Alex and a teen girl is that she is an adult with a lot of resources to help her cope with these difficult moments. A teen girl is generally far less likely to have the support of a husband or parents who are not currently raising their own kids.
Clearly, you knew that this comment was inflammatory, so you bravely chose to make it under the cloak of anonymity. How clever of you. Since I am not afraid of saying "controversial" things and backing up my words with my good name, I'll say this: Yes, spending time with kids actually did teach me that I am not appropriate parent material. It is an exhausting, demanding job that I am not up to doing 150% of my time. I am not ashamed of this. I like spending time with Alex's (and other kids) and then going home to peace and quiet. What I suspect that teenagers can learn from Alex's service is that there is no break when you are a parent. Perhaps that will encourage them to wait until they are older and hopefully, more ready (although I am not sure anyone is ever fully ready) to take on such an important (and rewarding) task.
Oh, that's funny! My oldest son who is in high school was telling me about a class they offer where you carry a doll baby (it has special sensors in it)around with you for a week; at home, at school, at work, after school activities, etc. It cries when it's hungry, wet, tired at all times of the day and night 24/7. Most of the kids are excited at the beginning and think it's going to be a piece 'o cake, but by the end of the week aren't quite so thrilled to be a "parent". I think it's a great idea! Sometimes I think kids feel about babies the way they feel about puppies or kittens, you know? Tiny, cute and snuggly, but wait,..they require work and attention?? Ack!
Dear Suzanne You chose to interpret my question as inflammatory, that is your problem.Perhaps you are overly defensive. Anonymous is no different then cable girl or painted maypole or any pen name chosen.
That's true. I was in a horrific mood when I saw it, and I probably should not have said anything. If you didn't mean it in the way I interpreted it, then I owe you an apology.
Anonymous, I feel very bad this. I was in a bad mood due to a hostile comment on someone's blog, and I know that Alex has had some anonymous people hassle her in the past, so immediately I assumed that was going on. Again, if that is not what you meant, I apologize and I hope my explanation makes sense.
Just to clarify, this post is meant to be humorous, and, unless I have a lot of readers who are seriously looking to have strangers spend unsupervised time with their kids, I think that the majority of commenters understood that. I think humor is an important part of parenting, and I really enjoy that part (and many other parts).
I remember when a boss of mine had his second baby. I asked if the older one liked his new sister. Wow was I naive! Anyhow, he replied that actually he was way more interested in the cat. Now I understand that statement. In our zoo house, we have two cats and a large golden retriever. The boys love them. In fact given the choice between playing with the most exciting toy in the world for an hour or petting one of the cats for 1.3 seconds before she bolts, they'll choose the latter. The cats are very mysterious. They dart in and out of rooms and are always going to exciting places like on top the refrigerator or under a bed.
My parents have two golden retrievers and a cat. The boys love the cat because, for reasons I don't understand, he is completely immune to their petting and unfortunately poking. Personally if I were the cat, I would run away from home or at the very least develop completely nocturnal habits that involved my sleeping in the basement where the boys wouldn't find me. If anything, the cat seems to seek them out. Then whenever we've come back from an outing, we've found him practically comatose in his cat bed. There has been way more excitement for him in the past couple days than he's had in his whole life.
The boys like the dogs, but aren't nearly as thrilled with them. They're not as mysterious. They also have way more energy than our dog. We taught the boys to say "No, Juliette" or "No, Nicholas" in strong voices if the dogs are getting too close. The dogs are responding pretty well, but we did notice one thing. My younger son never say "No, Juliette." Instead he says, "No, Boo." which is the name he has chosen for her. No, my kids haven't seen Monsters, Inc. The name actually seems to suit her.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: When you have kids your whole life turns so upside down that not even the dog's name is safe.
This is too funny. What is it about babies and cats? MJ will chase our cats around all day long. Poor Eleanor is the only one who can't handle it and, of course, she is the object of the most attention. The two boys are pretty fat and lazy so they'll sit there and take the abuse for a little while before getting fed up and moving on. MJ likes my mother's dogs but will just push them around when they're in her way. She doesn't seek them out.
At this very moment I'm sitting with a cat on my chest trying desperately to teach my daughter to STOP PULLING THE CAT'S TAIL. It's going well. But i know in three seconds she'll slap the cat on the head.
The dogs? Eh, they're big and slobbery. But they're great for playing ball with.
I guess Juliette was just too formal a name, Boo must have seemed more fitting! :)
I think it's great that your boys are being exposed to both cats and dogs, it's good for them. I always feel bad for kids that are frightened by them because they've never been with an animal before.
Hey, if you get a minute, stop over by my blog, I have something for you! Take care!
When I first started doing spinning this fall, I was, how should I say this, surprised by how intense many of the other spinners were. No, I'm not talking about their level of exertion, although that is pretty impressive. It was their gear. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if I walked in one day and saw someone wearing a helmet while on their stationary bike. Many of them already wore the gloves! I felt out of place for a long time, until I bought a special workout shirt and spinning shoes for myself.
Today I ventured off to the Y where I used to swim in junior high. Since I'm a member of a Y with an AWAY program, I can use other Ys. That sounds so ritzy! I decided to attend a spinning class. I love spinning, but I also love poking fun at it. How then could I not deliver the following statement? I think I finally found my mother ship! No, people weren't talking about "wicked hard workouts." At this Y, everyone was dressed in large ratty t-shirts and beat up gym shoes. One lady was even wearing her boats. Ahhh...to be at home and to fit in! Except that I wasn't in a ratty t-shirt or beat up shoes. I was in my MA spinning gear, and now I was out of place for being dressed up. Hey, maybe I'll feel like I found my mother ship again when I return to MA.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: There's a Mother Ship Bike out there for everyone.
That's so true how different gyms in the Chicago-area are from the northeast! When I work out in NYC, a lot of women wear a sports bra without a shirt over it. However, even at the Chicago branches of my fancy gym, no women do that. It's interesting.
This morning I got up with plenty of time in the hopes of achieving a zen-like mentality before leaving for the airport. Alright what I really told the Big Giraffe last night was I needed enough time to get up, have a minor nervous breakdown and then pull it together before we left. His response was that he was going to set his alarm clock to go off an hour after mine, so that he could miss the breakdown. I wasn't too amused.
I got up and went to make coffee only to find the permanent coffee filter had broken. I tried to use it anyway and ended up with coffee grinds all over the place. I was nowhere near the zen-like image I had envisioned for myself. The Big Giraffe hit Dunkin Donuts to get my coffee or perhaps to escape what he thought was sure to be an inevitable breakdown; maybe even both. During his absence I managed to get everything else together so that by the time he returned I was calm cool and collected. Hmm... maybe anxious, but trying to appear cool and collected would be a better description.
Despite the light snow which normally would have paralyzed MA, we got to TF Green Airport in Providence RI on time. Here's when it started to get dream-like for me. The ticket agent, at the Big Giraffe's request, gave him a pass to get through security so that he could escort the kids and me to the gate. I didn't think they did that anymore! I was really excited. I had two kids (one of whom just started walking and still likes to be carried a lot), one car seat, one computer backpack/diaper bag and one stroller. I was gladto have help carrying it all. Then the employee at the security check told me to take all the time I needed and not to feel rushed when throwing shoes, blankets, computer, strollers, and boys into the bins that go through the X-ray machine. Are you kidding me? Was this guy for real? The security agents never have patience! I couldn't believe my good luck. Yet, it got better!
We had gotten through security so quickly, that we were at the gate almost two hours before our flight. (The flight was then delayed which was obviously not better, but at least we weren't rushed.) We took the kids to the Dunkin Donuts right by our gate. We ended up boarding 25 minutes after the scheduled departure time.
I had visions of both of my sons sprinting away from me when boarding the plane (and in those visions my younger son (YS) was running the wrong way), but both kids actually listened and waited patiently for me to collapse the stroller right at the entrance to the plane so it could be gate checked. The other passengers were very pleasant and waited patiently for me to get situated with the stroller before boarding the plane. My older son (OS) went in first followed by YS, who actually walked, followed by me with the computer backpack and carseat. OS stopped a few rows in and wanted to sit down. I told him we were in row 16 and worried that he would stop to check at each row, but as we passed each row, the passengers shouted out "You're almost there OS! It's row 16!" I becamse absolutely convinced that I had drunk something really good last night and was still asleep.
We got to our seats and both boys waited patiently for me to install YS's carseat and then help OS, who had to sit in a single seat across the aisle from me (very small plane). After our flight was in the air, I realized that we had never eaten lunch and it was well past noon, but I had no hunger-related meltdown. I handed out the cereal bars that I had brought, and the boys were fine.
Lest you think everything was perfect, there were some rumblings that typically precede a double meltdown when I couldn't figure out how to get past the previews on the movie I was letting OS watch on my computer. Since he was upset, YS was upset and howling ensued. A lady ahead of us told OS to be quiet, and his meltdown was brief and (for him) pretty quiet. I headed it off by delivering some threats under my breath, mainly related to shutting down the computer. Calming YS took a bit of cuddling and singing. I hope that since I was sitting right next to the bathroom the combination of the constant flush of the toilet and the roar of the engines drowned out my singing voice. Seriously, I think the woman sitting in front of me with her son and my family were the only people on the plane who did not use the bathroom during the flight.
When I ordered the tickets, I had requested assistance from the airline upon landing. Despite the fact that I specified that I did not need a wheel chair, an airline employee showed up with one anyway. He admitted that he wasn't sure how I could have make it to baggage claim with boys, bags, and carseat without help. I told him that for a previous flight the airline had suggested putting in the request. His response was that it was totally fine and that solo parents had done it in the past, but usually people requesting wheelchairs really needed them. He was very nice and although it may sound like he was saying I was an idiot, he actually didn't come off like that. I'm sure he just kept that thought to himself.
We met up with my parents and finally got something to eat. It was there that we had the most predictable ending to a day where everything went much better than I could have imagined; YS threw up in the restaurant much to the horror of a couple of customers. Fortunately he's fine now, and hey, nothing's perfect!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Usually people who request wheelchairs at an airport really need them.
Glad that it went well. I was also wondering whether the lady was helping you by telling OS to be quiet or if she was being a nasty bitch. It sounds like maybe she was trying to help you out.
Last week I took my boys to the play center called Noodle Noggin and Bean that I mentioned in my last post. We met a friend and her two year old son there. All three boys had a blast. Before I knew it, lunch time had arrived. The boys were all cranky. My friend mentioned earlier that she was thinking of picking up McDonald's because she needed to get her oil changed after the playdate. When my kids started to lose it, I mentioned that I thought I would take the boys to McDonald's since we were already out and about and, hey we were already out together as a treat so why not go for a real bang? I don't remember who asked whom, but we decided to all go to McDonald's together. Shocking, right?
Actually it was. I have to say that there has been a consistent pattern to most of the playdates I've had over the past 4 years.
Mom and kid(s) arrive between 9 am and 9:30 am.
Playtime until 11 am.
11-12 lunch and more playtime.
The playdate ends, and the kids take a nap.
Sometimes the playdate will be part of an outing. The schedule is pretty much the same except we pack our own lunches and eat at the outing location. Sometimes I've met other moms and their kids at a restaurant for lunch, but there had previously been only one friend whose family joined mine at McDonald's for lunch.
Honestly I'm not really sure why this is. It turned out to be one of my older son's (OS) all-time favorite playdates. I actually could relax eating lunch knowing that it wasn't a big deal if anything spilled or if my kids couldn't sit still. We all enjoyed the food. It was quick and easy. That made me think some more about why this is only the second friend I've done this with.
I happened to catch Suzanne on the phone once we were home and the kids were down for their post-playdate nap quiet time. She referred me to an article by Ayelet Waldman in New York Magazine called Why the Bad Mommy Brigade. Don't recognize the author's name? She received a ton of criticism for saying she loved her husband more than her children. I remember even having a huge discussion about her in my moms group. The article was definitely interesting, and I recommend it.
I definitely felt a connection to some of her ideas, but I think there are several reasons why I have been on so few multi-family McDonalds outings.
I truly try to make it a special treat for my kids (hmm...that sounds a little defensive.)
It's one thing for others including me to admit that we've taken our kids to McDonald's for that special rare treat, but when you go with someone else, suddenly there's accountability. Suddenly someone knows how special that special treat truly is. The implication is that special means rare, but it is no longer as vague and unclear a term. After all, special could mean twice a year or twice a week.
Seriously, whenever I've been in McDonald's, it's been filled with moms and their kids. In fact sometimes I've even been a little envious of those there playdates where the kids are clearly having a good time playing and the moms are clearly having a nice time chatting while watching the kids. No one looks stressed out. Yet, despite the fact that I always run into moms I know at the Y, the park, and the grocery store, only once have I run into a mom I know at McDonald's. Yet, I don't know many moms who don't admit that they take their kids there. I have heard moms say that it's germy, but I think that Y is right up there too. I'm thinking the drive-thru line.
This post isn't as deep as Waldman's article to say the least. I didn't agree that we necessarily feel condemned all the time as bad moms or that we embrace the idea of bad motherhood in rebellion. Of course this is completely subjective and it depends on who you're around. After all, I have written a lot about how I felt isolated because I wasn't able to breastfeed. Some women only know moms who bottle feed. Personally, I find that many of the moms I know both in the real world and in the blogosphere are able to say that they aren't the perfect parents. I find them willing to share stories illustrating that their kids aren't perfect. I think that parenting for many of us is like anything else in life; we're just somewhere in the middle. Some days we're great, and some days we're not. Or we're really good at reading stories and doing pretend play but hate doing crafts. Personally I'm a member of the Can't Bake Club. Around here, we're a rare breed. I've had the funniest conversations with people when they've admitted that they order their kids' birthday cakes: Member of the Group (MOTG): I had to order a cake because I had the flu last week. AE: I've always ordered cakes. MG: Yeah, I have too!
Even my McDonald's visits comes in waves. We might frequent it a couple of times in a short periods and then we don't go again for a long time. So in case any of you are scoring my McDonald's treats, let me just help you along. Sadly, my great aunt past away a few days ago. She was 96, and her death was long and drawn out. It's a relief to everyone that she is at peace and we're at peace. So tomorrow I will be taking my first solo plane trip with both boys. We're headed out to Chicago for the week. The Big Giraffe will be joining us for the funeral and flying back with us despite what he thinks is a funny joke that he was unable to get on our flight. Our flight is at 11 am. You can bet your bottom dollar that my kids will be carrying Happy Meals on board...with those cheap toys too! Hopefully my kids will get at least 15 minutes out of them and hey, to me that's worth it right there.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Quality Parenting is subjective
And quite frankly, if my boys get what they always do at Mickey D's, which is four chicken nuggets, apples with dipping sauce, and choc. milk, I really don't see the harm in it once or twice a month.
I hope the boys get some good stuff in their happy meals.
We don't go to McDonalds very often, simply because we can't really afford to go out to eat very often! I wish we could go more. Of course it is also kind of a pain for me to take the kids. It's hard to break out of the old routine you know.
I definitely don't think that taking kids to McDonalds makes you a bad parent!
Good parenting is totally subjective. And I think whatever works for your family is what works. If your kids are happy and healthy and good citizens (I mean this in a very general sense of the word) and you're not stressed out 24/7, then you're fine. ;-)
I have to say that I before I write anything really personal, I always stop and think about whether or not I really want everyone to read it. Sometimes I'll write a post, and wait a few hours before actually publishing it. As anyone who blogs knows, once you put something out, it's...well...out there! Sure you can delete it later, but you never know who saw it (or cached it).
I feel the same way about political posts. Of course I have my own opinions. One of the many purposes of a blog is to be able to say whatever you want on it. So why not say what you believe about politics? I can tell you what makes me hesitate: it's the fear of offending someone and being verbally attacked. These were both things I thought about on Wednesday when my Blog for Choice post went up. Every time I checked my email, I wondered what sort of comments I would get. Would I a) offend someone or b) be verbally attacked?
Sure enough, not only did a) happen, but b) did as well. I couldn't believe it. That's what I get for sharing my true opinions...for baring my soul...for sharing the world as I view it. I was left feeling exposed. I felt bad that I had been misinterpreted. Frankly I was also a little annoyed. I worked hard on my post to make sure that it really did reflect my views and to ensure that my readers would find my post informative.
So was I attacked by a staunch opponent of abortion? No. Was I attacked by someone who felt I was unfair to the religious right or to political conservatives? No. Was I attacked directly for my Blog for Choice post? No. I was attacked for something far more divisive. In a post on New England Mamas, I actually...used the word museum to describe a place called "Noodle Noggin and Bean." I have now learned that the I should have called it a play center, and that the word museum refers to something with a "historical or archival component." It is not a mistake that I will soon make again, and I do appreciate the commenter's subsequent feedback on both why she is so passionate about the word's proper usage and some of her own thoughts on getting children to get out their energy.
A. Elliot's Lessons Learned: 1)It may be difficult to predict what content will be considered offensive. 2) The written word is great, but it doesn't contain nuances.
I've been lurking for a couple of weeks, and I just had to comment. Have they never heard of a children's museum. I think you were in the right.
I once started a new job and proofed a newsletter. I switched a word in it to sound like "english" and not "biologist speak". One of the other biologists called and ripped me a new one for changing the text. Just after that, the biologist who wrote the original called me to tell me it sounded great and that he appreciated the change I had made. I wanted to tell the naysayer to bugger off. I think you should do the same! Bugger off meanie!
It always amazes me how people can miss the point so completely. I mean, why pick on the irrelevant. It's not like your post didn't have (doesn't ALWAYS have) some real meat to it.
BTW, I just left my comment over at the Blog for Choice post. I'm so annoyed at myself that I didn't know about this in advance. It is something I would have lover to take part in.
As a child, I remember having a few "I swear it wasn't me" moments. I remember a particular one where a boy in my desk "square" (four desks pushed together) let out the most obnoxious SBD fart. Everyone was looking around to see who did it, and Bjorn acted all innocent and looked around too; later he snickered about it.
As a mom, I have a different version of it. Now it's "I swear this isn't what it looks like". The majority of these incidents seem to happen literally when I have my back turned for two seconds. A good example of this would be when I turned to see that my older son who had been walking next to me on the sidewalk was now walking behind me on the curb. Several car horns alerted me to this. Really I'm not a negligent parent. I swear he was walking right next to me and jumped on the curb in a blink of the eye.
This past Saturday though I did have a true "I swear it wasn't me" moment. The night before, the Big Giraffe and I went out with another couple for fondue at The Melting Pot. It was fabulous. We had a really great time. I had a chocolate martini and a glass of wine. Nothing too out there, but the next morning I did feel a little more tire than usual. I would say that I just felt tired, but frankly since becoming a mom, I don't really remember ever not feeling tired.
I arrived at spinning class and set my things down behind the bike. I then put on my biking shoes. At some point I became aware of a small puddle that was forming under the bike. It turns out someone had left behind an open sports bottle of water and I must have knocked it over. It was slowly trickling out of the bottle. The class was starting and since the floor was wet with sweat anyhow from the previous class, I hopped on my bike. Let me just say that it is not uncommon to see puddles of sweat under the bikes at spinning. Usually the sweaters are men. Sometimes they even line the area under their bikes with paper towels before they start the class.
The class started and some where along the line I notice a few people looking at the puddle under the bike. One guy even looked at the puddle, looked at me and then smiled. He had the beginning of a puddle. That's when I realized that he thought it was a puddle of sweat. I tried pointing to my water bottle and doing some mad gestures to explain that really I didn't generate that puddle of sweat in the 5 minutes since class had started. Not even the big sweaters can achieve that! I then decided that I didn't care and just concentrated on the class where I did build up a sweat, although did not add to my puddle.
At one point I grabbed my towel (most people bring hand towels to spinning and rest them on the handle bars of the bike) and wiped my face. Unfortunately, I had been a little lazy about putting away the laundry in the laundry basket the other night. I know it doesn't seem like that should be a problem. Well, the problem was that when I went to wipe my face, about 3 tons of cat fur was instantly transferred to my face. One or both of my cats and perhaps all the neighborhood cats must have taken a nap in my basket of clean linens. I began gasping and sputtering while swatting at the air to try to protect myself against the rogue cat fur.
Between the puddle and the swatting at the air, I definitely was not inconspicuous to say the least. It was hard to leave the class with any dignity. I tried my best. I have to say that I've been on the lookout for abandon water bottles this week and I have immediately put away the clean hand towels.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Even as an adult, sometimes it's just like you're back in junior high.
Oh my goodness, Alex, this had me rolling! At least they didn't think it was a puddle of something else. And animals are just excellent for finding ways to embarrass us!
That is so freaking funny and so something that would happen to me.
Jen is right though. Be happy they didn't assume it was a puddle of something else.
As for the cat fur, I hear you on that one. Last week I went to Kung Fu, my uniform is black, and when I got dressed I noticed that more than one of my cats had burrowed into my bag and nested on my uniform. I was harassed the entire session for being out of uniform since I was basically wearing white.
I could so imagine myself in that situation--madly gesturing that the puddle was NOT mine. And cats. I don't put away my laundry that quickly (nor do I fold it quickly, for that matter) so my cats are always sleeping in our clean clothes!
This is actually my post from last year's Blog for Choice Day. No, I'm not copping out; I'm reusing it because in the year since I wrote it, I would not change anything. However, before I get to it, I do have a little bit to add...
There are many issues in life about which I have changed my mind over time. In fact, while some of my views have stayed the same, I'm hard pressed to find many where they held firm because I truly believe in them, rather than because I haven't taken the time to re-evaluate my position. I have been pro-choice since since the day my friend Kim's mom drove us to swim practice and Kim explained why she was writing a paper on being pro-choice. Despite that fact that I was in Catholic school at the time, her views clicked with me. As I have gotten older, done my own research, and especially since I have become a mother myself, my views have only gotten stronger.
A few people pointed out to me last year that abortion restrictions only affect lower income women. Abortion gets disguised as a D&C for the women who can afford it. In other words, abortion restrictions would never affect me. That argument infuriates me for several reasons. First, I do not believe women's rights to their own body should be based on the amount money that we have. Second, although I am trying my best to nurture honest and open relationships with my sons so that they will feel that they can tell my husband or me anything, there's no guarantee that they will. We've set up "safe adults" who are close friends of ours that our sons can go to for help and guidance knowing that whatever they say and whatever help they receive will be kept between them and the safe adults. We are also already starting to have open conversations about sex in the hope that they understand our feelings about sex, love, maturity and most of all being safe. However, I can't live my sons' lives for them. If an unwanted pregnancy occurred, I would want my children and their significant others to have the full range of options, and for each of those options to be safe and easily accessible. In this way, this choice does very much affect me. Finally, it is very easy to dismiss small restrictions as irrelevant. There is no way to say where a trend against choice will end, and those who overlook restrictions who only affect others may end up reacting too late when the logic behind those restrictions is applied to take their own rights away.
We are at a crossroads. President Bush's appointments have had a significant impact on the composition of the Federal Courts, including the Supreme Court. These newly appointed judges are hacking away at many of our basic liberties, including free choice. I don't agree with everything that any politician stands for. However, any act of legislation may be reversed the next year, but the impact of a life-time judicial appointment may last for decades. That is why my pro-choice beliefs impact my vote. Now here is my post from last year explaining why I am pro-choice.
As a participant in the Blog for Choice Day, I'm telling my readers why I'm pro-choice. Ultimately, I am pro-choice because I do not believe the government has the right to tell women (or men) what to do with their bodies. Our country is founded on the ideology that there is separation between church and state. As such I do not feel that someone's personal religious beliefs should dictate what another person does. In fact, it outrages me that I even need to defend this point of view, because it really should be no one else's business.
On a more personal note, I have never had an abortion. However, I have been pregnant twice. Both times were planned pregnancies, and I was ecstatic to be pregnant. Despite the fact that I wanted to be pregnant, it really took a toll on my body. And I didn't have that difficult a pregnancy! As hard as it was on me, I know women who've had worse pregnancies, where they've had to be on bed rest for months. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be forced to go through this. I also cannot imagine what it would be like if I were having a baby that I did not want for whatever reason.
Yes, someone can choose to give the baby up for adoption (after undergoing the physical challenges of pregnancy). How likely is that though for a married woman who finds out that there's something wrong with the baby that she's carrying? I hear a lot of pregnant women saying that no matter what the different pregnancy tests show, they would never have an abortion. I have a lot of respect for that viewpoint, but I often wonder about the many pregnant women whom I don't hear saying that. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in that situation, to be told that there was a serious problem with a wanted pregnancy. I can only imagine what pain those parents must be in. I do know one thing: they do not need me to judge them.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: "People may need to defend their rights, but they do not need to justify the exercise of those rights."
I didn't even know about this movement, but I'm right there with you. I'm not sure I could handle having an abortion, but that is my choice, and I think women must have the right to decide what they need to do for their lives and bodies.
Hear hear. My sister says she's not so worried about abortion rights as she would never need one, since she's likely not able to get pregnant. I would be estatic to get pregnant again and again. This reasoning scares me - as much as I am all about thinking of yourself, it's about all women's rights, not your own personal needs.
I've often said that I am pro-choice in all forms that it might take. I've said this to women who have told me they didn't want to talk about their birth decisions because I had an unmedicated, midwife assisted birth. I've said this every time I've ever gotten into a discussion with a woman about breastfeeding versus bottle feeding. A woman's body is her own. No one, not family,not friends, not the government should have the right to tell me what I can do with mine.
As a side note, whenever I see the "Choose Life" bumper stickers which are oh so prevalent down here, I have to fight the nearly overwhelming desire to grab a big marker and underline, no double underline the word "choose"!
I love getting awards. Unfortunately many times my response to awards goes the same way as my thank you cards and takes me much longer to write than I ever intend. Time to catch up!
I was quite honored to be awarded the Mwah! award by Jenn in Holland. She writes a fantastic blog and also writes the nicest emails. The Mwah! award is a chaste kiss given to say thank you for friendships and comments in the blogosphere. When I first started my blog, I had hoped for a comment here and there. I have been taken aback by how many wonderful well thought out comments I have received. I also never expected to develop the friendships that I have. If you would have told me when I first started out my blog that in a year and half time I would be exchanging emails, exchanging Christmas cards and meeting other bloggers in person, I wouldn't have believed you. My favorite time of the day has always been checking the mail. Now checking my email has surpassed that. So here are the people to whom I am giving the Mwah! award in no particular order:
Soccer Mom in Denial awarded me A Roar for Powerful Words. As with Jenn, I have a deep respect for SMID. In addition to enjoying her wonderful writing, I have actually had the privilege of getting together with her twice. As part of this award, I need to describe three elements that I believe are critical for good writing. If I subjectively define good writing as writing that I enjoy, then I can kind of toy with the rules by providing the criteria that cause me to pick the blogs (blog posts) that I like to read.
I like blog posts that I can relate to in someway, whether they are funny, political, serious, or they speak to something that I have in common (or will have in common) with the blogger.
I like blog posts that are honest even when the writer isn't always portrayed in the best of lights. It shows that we're all human.
I like posts that show emotion. This one I'm taking directly from SMID. I enjoy reading blogs to see bloggers write about what most people don't discuss very often.
Wow! Thanks so much... I have really enjoyed reading your blog and emailing with you over the past few months, and I appreciate the shout out! Hopefully you'll keep on reading even though I'm changing my focus a bit.
As I dropped off my older son (OS) at preschool yesterday, his teacher mentioned that OS doesn't like to participate in Duck Duck Goose. The teacher wanted to know if she could prompt OS to participate in the games they would be playing that day. I said "yes," while becoming anxious as to whether there was more to discuss. On the other hand, how much is there to say about a game of Duck Duck Goose; you either play it or you don't. Since she shared this with me while I was in the dropoff line, which you are not supposed to delay by having detailed conversations, and it was pouring rain, I knew it wasn't the time to fully explore the issue.
As I drove home, I reflected on my own personal Duck Duck Goose experiences. Alright "reflected" is a strong word. I had flashbacks to how much I hated that game. I got agitated even thinking about it. The only game I disliked more was kickball. Kickball was really awful! I managed to get hit in the face with the ball in second grade, and my glasses split right down the middle. I almost had an anxiety attack on the spot. It was like standing up and shouting to everyone that I was terrible at the game. I feared that no one would ever want to pick me to be on their team. Plus with the broken glasses, I couldn't see well, but no one else had trouble seeing me walking around with broken glasses with tape for the next few days. Was I so bad at these games because I missing an important skill or there was something wrong with me? I almost failed gym class that year as a result! Was that an early sign that I was doomed to live a life of misery and failure?
I certainly was not going to allow OS to suffer the same fate. I called the school to talk to the teacher. She seemed surprised by my concern. She had simply spoken to me because she wanted to know if she could prompt OS to play. Apparently a lot of parents don't want teachers to do that. I'm relieved to learn that OS's failure to play Duck Duck Goose has not ruined the rest of his life. Now that I think about it, despite being wretched at Duck Duck Goose and Kickball, I went on to be a high school and college athlete; just not in kickball! He may choose to do the same.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: There is no correlation between a child's skill at playing Duck Duck Goose and overall life success.
Well, to be honest, I applaud OS for not wanting to play. When I was a kid I always hated those sorts of games. Although I became a really athletic person, when I was younger, let's face it, I sucked. I was nearly always picked last and picked on. If I could have I would have abstained.
Of course not playing Duck Duck Goose won't hurt him in the long run. Who knows, maybe it'll be better. :)
Wow what a horrible experience with kick ball... we have a game called dodgeball that maybe is similiar... the point of the game was to actually hit the other team with the ball. Since tag has now been banned I am positive this one has too :-)
And in regards to your question, I am 5'3" on a good day :-)
I hated duck, duck, goose! It made my stomach turn in knots. And I would end up being "it" forever, because running was so not my thing. I was a very strong swimmer, but terrible at running.
My P.E. teacher in either K or 1st grade actually had to have a talk with my parents about my lack of coordination... and I'm mostly fine now. A missed DDG or two is not going to hurt him.
It's funny, reading your post made me think about the games I played as a kid, and come to think of it, I hated that game, too! That and "Red Rover, Red Rover", which was basically a popularity contest, no one wanted to be the last one called, that meant you were a nerd! I wouldn't force little OS to participate if he doesn't want to, some kids just aren't into that kind of game, or he may enjoy it later when he's a little older.
BTW, loved your post about the dead bird book. Sometimes the most simple message is the most powerful one, huh? Sorry about your loss. Take care!
I love this post Alex. I swear isn't it funny the things we can get worked up about as it relates to our kids.
My kid teacher said my daughter was a bit shy in some scenarios in school (which is not at all my experience w/her). Of course I stewed on that forever and immediately set up a play dates and stuff....Duh she's fine..It was just a new school year - she just needed some time. I laugh at myself now when I think about it.
Playing Duck Duck Goose can ruin your life! I got my second concussion while playing the game in preschool. I was running to get away from my pursuer and turned around to see what the situation was, then ran smack into a table and knocked myself out. (Incidentally, my first concussion was also at preschool when I was involved in a big wheel accident.) I suspect that I am partially so, um, me, due to genetics and my youthful brain injuries. That said, I still liked Duck Duck Goose, but maybe that proves my point...
I would never claim to be an expert at parenting because really I am anything but an expert. I am continually surprised, I'm not sure why, by what works and doesn't work. Sometimes I'm right on the mark. More times than I'd like to admit, I'm so off it's almost humorous. Alright sometimes it's flat out funny. Isn't part of the fun of life to be able to laugh at our mistakes even when our mistakes are about the topic of death? At the request of Mayberry Mom, here's my humorous saga with books on death.
When I talked to the Director of Religious Education at our church the other day, I asked her if there were any books I could borrow. She explained that my older son (OS) wouldn't really be able to start comprehending death until he's about 8. As such, the books on death tended to be written for audiences of eight and up. However, she was happy to lend me several books. She thought one particular book would be very good for four year old OS, although she warned me that I probably wouldn't be too impressed by it. It's The Dead Bird by Margaret Wise Brown (author of Goodnight Moon). It was first published in 1938.
She dropped the books off yesterday and I began browsing through them. I pulled out The Dead Bird. It looked terrible. Two pages had one giant picture and no words followed by two pages containing a few sentences and no pictures. The layout of the book did not vary at all. The pictures were simple, basic illustrations drawn in a small number of colors. The story looked cold, probably because the word "dead" was written into the text about a million times. I put it back in the bag. I was drawn to the books with beautiful illustrations. I particularly liked one in which the little boy asked all sorts of different people what happens when someone dies. I loved the message that everyone views death differently. OS...did not. In fact, he was not impressed by it at all. I tried another book that I thought looked somewhat interesting. Same reaction. After trying all of the remaining books, I eventually had to give in and retrieve The Dead Bird from the bag.
OS was immediately impressed by the big picture on the first two pages showing a blue sky, green grass and one small dead white bird. No words or anything else. The words on the next two pages, which were devoid of pictures said "The bird was dead when the children found it". For some reason, when I read it, I felt the urge to bellow the sentence out just like the voice-over for movie previews. OS did not seem to appreciate my need for theatrics, and he looked at me quizzically. The next two pages showed another picture of said dead bird being peered at by a group of children who (the book subsequently explained) knew that the bird was dead even though it was still warm, because its heart was not beating. OS didn't understand that. I let him feel my heart beating, and then we felt his heart beating. I explained that the bird didn't have that. Much to my surprise, that seemed to resonate.
When the book described the bird growing stiff and cold, I tried not to gasp in surprise. Was this really a kids' book? The word "dead" was used repeatedly just like it had been at the beginning of the book. As I tried to stifle giggles, I put on my most serious voice, or perhaps my most serious non-movie preview tone. I expected OS to respond to how serious I sounded, but he seemed completely unperturbed. So I went on.
The rest of the book described the way the children dug a hole with a shovel and buried the bird. They even put up a marker that read (and again I tried not to laugh) "Here lies a bird." The last line of the book is and I'm not kidding "And every day, until they forgot, they went and sang to their little dead bird and put fresh flowers on his grave." On the next page there was a picture of the little grave in the woods and the kids playing in the clearing.
I was concerned that it might not be long until the children forgot, but OS actually connected with that book. In fact he asked me to read it to him later, and then he "read" it to my younger son (YS). After a while it dawned on me that the book resonated because the word dead was used over and over again. It used simple terms to describe what had happened to the bird, what death meant, and what the bird felt like. The book did not describe the long-term fate of the dead bird, but OS didn't seem to care. Why should he, if he didn't understand the concept of death in the first place? Plus, the book was very clear that the bird was buried in the ground, a fact which OS kept pointing out to me. The only problem I've had with the book is that now OS thinks he can bring his beach shovel to the funeral to help dig Aunt Julie's grave.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: It can be fun to laugh at oneself and a relief to laugh at death.
When our hamster died, we wrapped it and put it in a box. The girls each insisted on coloring a picture to put in the box and then they watched as we buried it in the back yard. They too, left flowers by it's grave. And all last summer (and into the fall, every time I walked past that spot, there were clusters of flowers, weeds and clovers. Even the few times we ventured out this winter, I've noticed dried sticks placed carefully nearby.
Being "underground" really makes a big impact on kids with death.
I wish I had heard of this book when our bird died! My kids have been through the death of one bird, one cat and one grandfather. We've always been pretty matter-of-fact about the whole thing and I'm amazed at how unafraid they are of it all. I don't even tell them that I know what happens after death (we talk of heaven more as a 'I hope there is' vs. 'there definitely is').
i have a friend who is a hospice chaplain, and he says that kids need us to use simple words (dead. not "gone" or "Asleep" or "passed away" but DEAD) and not to beat around the bush. And that ultimately they get it much better than we do. My daughter talks about how we used to have cats, but now they are dead. It's just a fact. They are gone. And sometimes kids wonder if we will see the dead again, and express this. As opposed to adults, who KNOW it but don't want to believe, so don't express it. Kids express it, we explain to them, and they move on. Yes, I think kids actually get it much better than we give them credit for.
Well, I laughed out loud. I love the last line. I think my OS would like this book. We talk about it every time we pass a cemetery. Yesterday he wanted to know what would happen if there was a gravestone with his name on it. I think it's really important to say DEAD. Asleep is just terrifying! Sometimes I hate Margaret Wise Brown, but I can see that this is a good one for kids.
Thanks for this. I'm always being asked if I know any books to help kids deal with the loss of their pets. This might help, even if it is a bit gruesome.
One of the really cool things about being a parent is getting to influence a young mind. Yes, of course relatives, close family friends, teachers and clergy to name a few also have this privilege. However, somehow it's different when it's your own child. First of all, I'm able to take the great explanations, leave out the not so great or bad ones, and say things the way I wished they had been said to me. For example in fourth grade when we learned about fractions, the teacher kept on explaining them in terms of a pie. It wasn't until a while later, I realized he was literally referring to a pie. When my kids are older, they're getting a fractions demo with an actual pie. Second, many aspects of parenting offer an opportunity for self-reflection...a chance to stop and take the time to think about how I really feel about different issues...and a way of realizing that my thoughts on a subject are valued. It's sort of like when I first became a mom, I was thrilled to be able to go to parks, have picnics, and visit the zoo. Then it dawned on me that really I could have done those things all along; I didn't need to be a parent to have those experiences.
Back in September my great aunt, who's in her 90's, had a bad stroke. It's pretty much been down hill since then. She was just moved into hospice. When she passes, we will all fly to Chicago to attend the funeral. What should we do about the boys though? Everyone will be at the funeral, and the funeral will be at least an hour from where I grew up so it's not like I can ask childhood friends or their parents to watch the boys because I want the boys to come out to the dinner afterwards with our extended family. I began to think about what I wanted to do and what I wanted to tell them about death.
This led me to a different question however. How do I feel about death? Could I answer the questions that my older son (OS) may ask? Was I ready to get on board this train leading down a track to more and more difficult questions? What about the fact that my kids are growing up in a different faith, Unitarian Univeralist from both my husband, who grew up Jewish, and me, who grew up Catholic. That also means they are of a different faith from most of the people who will be at the funeral. How would I explain it?
I think the trickiest part of this situation is that it is just so personal. I never really thought about it before, but how one handles funerals, how one handles whether their children attend funerals, and at what age they do is deeply intertwined with personal religious beliefs. While I'm not a fan of saying "never," I think it's very hard for the two to be separated. This was one discussion, that I didn't feel I could post on my moms group list-serve.
As I thought further, I began to believe that I wanted both boys to come with us to the funeral. We actually have had some very elementary conversations about deaths already with the passing of a friend in November. It was very abstract to OS. I ended up calling the Director of Religious Education at our church, who is also a child psychologist. She confirmed my gut reaction on bringing the boys to the funeral, and she also dropped off a bunch of books today to help start the conversation.
I'm feeling good about the conversations that OS and I were able to have today. I am way more comfortable with conversations about when he grew in my uterus and who in our family has what genitalia. In fact I can pretty much guarantee that it will come up at the restaurant afterwards!
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Every family needs to assess how to discuss the subject of death with their children.
We didn't take the girls to their great-grandmother's funeral, however, we did tell them the truth. They asked alot of questions (and for a long time after, kept asking more) but we answered as best and truthfully as we could. They were able to deal with it very well, even thought they were sad. They knew she was very sick and that now she wouldn't hurt anymore.
I was a tad miffed when Meenie came home from school and said the classroom pet went to live at the vet's because it was sick and when the vet made it better, it was happy and he liked it. So they adopted two brother hamsters. I can understand the teacher's reasoning and I will respect her decision (and will not tell Meenie) however, I can't say I agree it was the right one to make. I knwo she didn't want a classroom full of upset kids.
I think it's a wonderful idea for you to bring your children to the funeral. Every mammal has the basic need to have closure with death. Those that are deprived of it tend to show the strain later. Not that I'm implying your boys need closure, but I think it is a great opportunity to teach them that death does not need to be feared and is a good way to gain that much needed closure.
Of course they will ask many many questions you will not be able to answer, but I'm of the opinion that it is not a bad thing for children to realize that their parents do not know everything.
It sounds like you are being very smart about it. My kids have not really had to deal with death yet but with some very elderly relatives, I know it's coming soon.
Can you note the books you read, if you like them and think the boys are getting something out of them?
We've been talking about death at our house lately, and my mom who is a social worker, therapist, and former daycare worker has given me a bunch of books to read with the kids, if you are interested in any titles. I thought the ones at Borders looked AWFUL. (Read overly religious.)
I think one of the important things for kids to realize is that it's another facet of life.
I lost my sister when C was about your OS's age, and he found ways of thinking about it. He also had a ton of questions. And he finally decided that when people die, they just become a part of "GOD" who is one giant being made up of all the dead people. It was interesting. We also used to say that God was everywhere, so he decided all the dead people we loved were all around us all the time and that was very comforting to him. Probably more comment than you wanted/needed. I must be rambling today!
On a much lighter note, I'm delighted you'll be joining us for the Writing Game!
When FIL passed away in 2000 it was my girls first glimpse of death. We explained it as best we could, and they did ok with the wake and the funeral. I think the blessing to having such events is most people enjoy having the younger ones around, and if questions are asked will help answer questions that you can not answer yourself. Some of the answers none of us can give. When my Grandma passed away at the age of 96 in 2006 we took my 18 month old to the funeral, when one of her older friends asked at the wake if I was taking him to the funeral the next day, my grandma's oldest friend spoke up, and said Hulda would never forgive her if she didn't, that baby, those babies (including my girls) were her life the last couple of years.
I wrote about the boys asking how do you say goodbye to someone in a casket. It led to me recounting, in tears, the last conversation I had with a friend dying from cancer.
It has always been important for me to tell the kids what I believe but stress they can believe whatever they want to feel safe. I don't believe in heaven, etc and have told them so.
You and BG can combine what you like about your traditions and make that the basis of the conversation.
I decided today to give the outrageously expensive shoe authorities that be, also known as Stride Rite, a shot today in an attempt to find boots for my younger son (YS). In all honesty I've gotten my kids' shoes there in the past. Since I can't tell whether kids' shoes fit correctly, and both boys hate(d) wearing shoes, so they complain even when something fits, I wanted someone to be able to fit their feet for me. Usually I go to the outlet which works out well because the shoes are at a good price and they measure the kids' feet and check to make sure the shoes fit right. However, the last time I was there, they were running really low on boots. Rather than just drag the boys over there, I decided to go to the closer regular store.
I was very excited when I saw big sale signs in the window. The boys and I walked in, and I explained that I was looking for boots for YS. The saleswoman crinkled her brow and said that they really didn't have that many pairs of boots left. To me this is ironic for one reason: yesterday we were hit with a giant snow storm. Wait there's one other reason too...oh yeah it's January! She asked what size YS's current sneakers were. When I replied that they were 4.5, she explained that they don't even make boots that small. She suggested a five with the caveat that she was almost certain that they didn't have any boys boots in that size. They apparently didn't have girls boots in that size either because yes I did ask about that too.
She went in the back to check. The boys took this opportunity to fight over the wall toys in the the store. Sure enough there was one pair of boys boots left and they happened to be size 5! She pulled them out and after prying YS away from the toys much to the delight of my older son (OS), they fit perfectly. YS was very excited by them and proceeded to clomp around the store. I couldn't get over how little they were. When OS first started walking and subsequently got his first pair of shoes, they were a size 6. His first boots were a size 7. We've never had such small shoes in our house. Apparently a lot of people don't either which according to the saleslady is why she still had them in stock. Who says bigger is always better? For the record, YS loved playing in the snow in his new boots this afternoon.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: When the boot fits, wear it, particularly if it's at a good price.
Okay, this explains why I had such a hard time finding boots for my boys when they were 2 years old and had size 5 feet!
We have freakishly small feet in our family!
Yay for finding boots :-) We seem to have the same problem here too. By December the stores are empty of boots despite the fact that there is still at least 4 more months of winter.
my son, on the other hand, has freakishly large feet. at just thirteen-and-a-half months old, he is almost out of his Pedi-peds, and they are the largest size they make! (though i hear that they are starting a toddler line called "Flex" which may just well save us!) but then, his donor has size 13 feet, so i guess it shouldn't surprise me!
Believe it or not, Payless often has good boots for boys through the season. I'm all for shoes fitting properly, so I understand using Stride Rite, but if they ever run out...
Because both the Big Giraffe and I were late walkers, we weren't surprised when both of our boys showed absolutely no interest in walking when they were a year old. Sure they both did cruising, but they were as likely to let go of the coveted table or chair as the Big Giraffe and I would be to go sky diving. At least that's what their howls suggested.
Since my older son (OS) was my first, I did what many new parents do and worried about it extensively. I analyzed any of his movements until I was exhausted. Why wasn't he walking? All my relatives kept pointing out that I was a late walker and my brother, maternal cousin, and mother didn't walk until they were all two. Did I mention that the Big Giraffe was a late walker? Even the pediatrician kept on saying that it was genetic. I was completely neurotic (which my parents insist is not genetic). I was fixated on the fact that he was still a crawler. Surely it meant that there was something catastrophically wrong. At his 15 month appointment, the pediatrician suggested a referral to Early Intervention just in case there really was a problem because at the time there was a two month wait. OS would be 17 months by the time they could actually see him. Two things happened: 1) EI had a cancellation the next week and was able to see OS 2) OS started walking three days before he turned 17 months.
Not surprisingly my younger son (YS) was a late walker as well. Yes I was still surprised, but that surprise was because YS always wants to do everything that OS does. He even crawled earlier than OS did. I assumed he would want to imitate OS's walking early too. I think that YS just didn't see the point in crawling, since he was an incredibly quick crawler. More importantly, OS brings YS everything that he thinks YS wants. Really there was no incentive for YS to walk.
This time my mindset was different. I fretted about YS having to be in Early Intervention. It's a great program, and I am very grateful that we have such an outstanding service, but seriously it was like falling into a black hole because it took up a ton of time. I also could never schedule anything since because they are understaffed (and not surprisingly underpaid), many times they wouldn't know their schedules until the last minute. This time I was the one reminding the pediatrician that she said walking was genetic. I was the one saying that I really wasn't worried. Actually she wasn't either. She said to wait until the 18 month appointment and then we would talk. I was fine with that.
That said, the Big Giraffe did swing a giggling YS around to his version of "Paralyzer," which went something like:
"I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you. I want to make you walk because your crawling still. And if your walking matches what your crawl can do, You'll probably walk right past me on my way to you."
At his 18 month appointment, YS took several sets of half dozen sets around the waiting room and then promptly crawled. The pediatrician commented that if he could take six steps, then he was obviously capable of taking a lot more. It was a matter of will. Was he ever going to walk? Fortunately, the answer was yes! This past week, he has officially gone from crawler to walker to runner at the ripe old age of 18.5 months! As I watch him demonstrate increased range in his efforts to pull things from various counters and tables to put in his mouth, I ask myself why did I think this was a good idea?
Then today, we hit one little snafu. Since I didn't know when YS was going to walk or what size his feet would be when he walked, I never got him boots. Thus when the Big Giraffe carried OS into the house after finally winning their game of snow chase, YS woefully crawled over to the door and started waving his sneakers at the Big Giraffe in a desperate bid to get his own playtime in the snow.
I did a quick stop at Target this evening to see what I could find in winter footwear so he can play in the snow tomorrow. There really wasn't anything. Being the gender stereotype challengers that we are, I even checked out the girls shoe section. No boots, pink or not, were to be found. I'll have to continue my search tomorrow.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: If you are looking for sandals or other summer footwear, you should head right out to Target before the weather warms up and boots go back on sale.
Same situation with my older daughter and younger. My older daughter didn't walk until 3 days before 17 months. Actually her pediatrician described her legs as marshmallows at her 1 year check up. She wasn't even crawling by then.
Younger daughter crawled 5 months before older daughter, and I was sure would walk before her first birthday. Not quite. She walked at just about 15 months.
18 months was always our benchmark appointment too, but living in Peru and now in Japan we didn't and don't have Early Intervention as an option.
How is your younger son's language development? Younger daughter is delayed, but I am waiting until 18 months to worry as well.
I hate when it "winter" actually arrives in January/February and you can't actually find snow gear. But hey, if you need a bathing suit, they are there!
I was actually looking at some clearence coats the other day ($10!) to stock up for net year but they didn't have any I liked in their sizes.
It drives me crazy when the stuff that's in season disappears! I had a really hard time finding snowpants for my daughter last month. Hope you find some boots soon.
Congrats on your little walker! Yeah, why is it that the stuff you need for seasons is never there but the next season is there, and on sale? Good luck shopping.
I think you are right... life changes when they start walking! But it is for the better... or well okay maybe not. In our house it meant trouble of the blue kind. Lots of bruises. Especially with my wild second son!
I so know what you mean about the seasonal stuff. If you happen to have a Goodwill or some other second hand store around you, you might want to check it out. I got DS a great pair of rubber boots there today, and there were lots of winter boots to be had too.
I found a pair this morning! Kirsten, when OS was in Early Intervention I was told that they don't even begin to consider speech delays until at least 20 months, but more like 24 months. Even then, a lot of kids will start speaking a lot and catch up to other kids their age in a matter of a couple months. They told me that they roll their eyes when a pediatrician does a referral before 20 months. YS seems fine to me. He said a bunch of words at his last doctor's visit and she seemed pleased. It's so hard to tell too with kids because EI criteria is that they have to be able to understand what your child is saying whereas when you meet with the pediatrician or other parents it's how many words your child says that you can understand. Thanks for all your comments!
One of the qualities that I most admire in people is the ability to see both sides of an argument, even when someone supports one side. I try to live by that myself, and I like to know both sides of even the arguments on which I have the strongest views. I feel like I truly can make the best decisions when I know all the facts. Knowing all the facts, doesn't mean that I will align with one side or another, but I like that I can make my own decision.
One of my reasons for starting this blog was to promote the idea that women (and men) can take all the facts out there and make the best decisions for their families regardless of what alternatives may be better for other families. For example, I have always been a strong proponent of breastfeeding, and I found it enormously painful to be unable to breastfeed my boys. After I calmed down and came out of my black hole of gloom for not being able to breastfeed, I realized that formula is an adequate form of nutrition for babies (with adequate meaning sufficient, meaning it gets the job done) and is not rat poison. I remain a proponent of breastfeeding, but I believe (and have lived) the fact that it does not work for all families.
There are still some specific points of argument in the baby feeding debate that I believed only have one side. For example, one of the many reasons that I was upset that I couldn't breastfeed was that I knew that that breastfeeding helps to prevent allergies. With my "zoo", I was concerned for the boys as well as my pets. Then one day I had a realization while I was munching on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and relishing the fact that I could eat whatever I wanted, unlike a few of my friends who had breastfeeding-related dietary restrictions. No matter how many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pieces of broccoli, onions, tomatoes, and chocolate I ate, my diet had no effect on my son's diet. His food was constant. I would still choose breastfeeding over formula, if I could, but since so few things in life are 100% problem-free, I wondered if any bad things do come through breastmilk.
Today I received a call from my friend Suzanne alerting me to an op-ed piece by Nora Ephron in the New York Times called "The Chicken Soup Chronicles". In a paragraph discussing the fervor of some breastfeeding advocates, she poses some interesting questions about allergies.
"...children today are far more allergic than they were when I was growing up, when far fewer women breast-fed their children. I mean, what is it with all these children dropping dead from sniffing a peanut? This is new, friends, it’s brand-new new, and don’t believe anyone who says otherwise. So: is it possible that breast-feeding causes allergies?"
Ms. Ephron doesn't provide any actual evidence that breastfeeding is harmful, and the overall tone of most of the piece is tongue-in-cheek. However, I find it interesting that except for the study in Australia that argues that breastfeeding does not reduce children's allergies in the long-run, this is the first time that I've seen something that questions breastfeeding.
As someone who is very pro-breastfeeding, part of me wonders if we should even bother wasting time, energy, and money studying something that has been found time and time again to be the best way to feed children. Does it really matter if there are some negative aspects to breastfeeding if they are so minor? Certainly there are a lot more important subjects to research. Would further research really change anything? Maybe not. However, it is kind of curious that little media attention has been given to the Australian study, and Ms. Ephron's question does highlight a health trend that does seem inconsistent with current research. Whenever I see a headline around children's health issues, I want to know what that study says. This doesn't cause me to question my belief that breastfeeding is generally better than formula, but it reinforces my belief that different approaches to feeding are better for different families.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Knowledge is power, particularly when that knowledge is about how to best feed your children.
Very thoughtful post on a difficult topic, as usual. When I read it, all I could think about was the protests that La Leche League are probably organizing outside Ephron's home at this very instant. Some people hate debate or intellectual curiosity. Usually those people are conservative Republicans or crazy religious fanatics, but not always. :)
Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you and your blog? No? Well, I do. You are calm, thoughtful, helpful, comforting and encouraging. If Nora Ephron isn't reading your blog already,I am sure would appreciate and support your words.
This is funny. I have a friend who pretty much exclusively breastfed her first born. She's not a zealot by any means, but she made it the whole year. Her second child is six months old and still being breastfed, but is getting three bottles of formula a day. We live pretty far apart, but when we visited over New Years I teased her about the "baby poison" she was giving her daughter (she knew how much grief I'd been given about not being able to breastfeed, so she was in on the joke.)
But her situation does go to show that even in the same family, it doesn't always work out the same for every child.
I'd think, however, that Ephron is taking her thoughts a little beyond the realm of logic. Why on earth would the natural way to feed a child make him or her allergic to foods. Interesting speculation and yes, it does seem that there are a lot of highly allergic kids out there, but to blame nature? I think not.
Hmmm. I would have to say that the significant rise in childhood allergies(and other diseases/afflictions) is probably related more to other factors than to the moderate rise in breastfeeding in the US. It's not like b.f. is a new thing that just started in these past 15 years. I'd make a wildly uneducated guess that the culprit would be more in the line of antibiotics, antibacterial soaps/etc., and a world that may be trying to heal itself by trying to get rid of some of its inhabitants (morbid thought, I know. Just a wild, esoteric idea of mine.)
Thank you all for your comments. I don't believe that Ms. Ephron argued that anyone is actually allergic to breastmilk. (I certainly don't believe in any breastmilk allergy.) My guess, with the key word being "guess", is that what she is talking about is the argument that increased allergies are caused by our increasingly toxic environment and our increased consumption of processed foods over past generations. With processed foods, there can be a risk of cross-contamination (bread being exposed to nuts for example) so that when a mom consumes, for example a piece of bread, she is also eating traces of nuts at the same time which can then be passed on to her baby. Again, not a reason not to breastfeed. Just food for thought so to speak.
When I breastfed Alex many years ago, we were told that whatever went through our bodies went into our baby. Therefore, we were told to avoid caffeine and certain allergen producing products. Are Moms still being told this today? It seems logical to me that if a mom ate a lot of peanut butter, that her infant just might be exposed to something inside the peanuts that could trigger an allergy later. I don't think Nora Ephron was questioning breast feeding. She was just wondering why so many more children have allergies. I have often wondered the same thing. Rather than shoot the messenger, wouldn't it be better to see what is passing through the breast milk?
People have always looked at me funny when I've said I can't eat tree nuts when I'm pregnant or breastfeeding. It's really hard when you're craving nuts too.
I've always wondered why people care so much how I'm feeding my baby. I don't really care how anyone else chooses to feed their children. If I ask if a mom is nursing it is only because I'm making them supper and want to make sure to make something non-spicy, etc.
I remember feeling like I needed to clarify that is was breastmilk in the bottles I was giving my daughter. I was crushed that she wouldn't nurse. So much so that I pumped my milk for 6 months before I finally gave up.
Thankfully my second child nursed easily and for more than a year.
I wasn't able to breastfeed my son, either, and it was heartbreaking to me at the time. He's grown up strong and healthy, though, and he doesn't have any of the allergies his dad does or that I do.
I'm not saying this to support Ephron. I do feel that she was being tongue in cheek and was really commenting on all the "special stuff" we do these days as parents, along with the fact that we all survived our less coddled childhoods. For example, my mother was encouraged, by her obstetrician to have a martini a day so that she'd have a relaxed, calm pregnancy. He also didn't think that the fact that she smoked was an issue. Does she wish she hadn't done either of those things? Of course! But I didn't have foetal alcohol syndrome and so far haven't developed lung cancer (knock on wood).
I really enjoyed your post. While breast is best, aren't we lucky to have some alternatives that our ancestors didn't. Without a wet nurse, your sons and mine wouldn't have survived. Horrible thought, isn't it?
When I read the title on Blogher (yay Blogher) I hopped on over to talk about MY allergies and breastfeeding.
My baby had allergies (not food allergies, pollen allergies) from the minute he was born, by the way, and I did breastfeed. He inherited them from me. I never had them as a child, but I have them as an adult.
My doctor told me to take benadryl for them when I was pregnant because it's safe for the baby in utero.
But, he did NOT tell me that benadryl would DRY UP my breast milk. So for 3 months I struggled to keep breastfeeding a starving baby.
First the milk wouldn't come in though I tried everything including beer (advice in a 1970s Le Leche League manual).
I would sit with the pump on my breasts for the majority of the day trying to revive my milk.
When the OB/GYN's nurse told me to stop the benadryl I started taking Zertek for allergies and it didn't help. It was spring and I HAD to take something. All the fenigreek in the world wouldn't make my milk come back.
By 4 months I gave up. The baby has allergies - but he had them when I was breastfeeding. He had them genetically from birth.
But, I'm still furious at that doctor for robbing me of my year of breast feeding and causing so much stress at the beginning by telling me to keep taking the benedryl.
J and I were just talking about the allergy issue, and he said that it's also due in large to the fact that parents are so paranoid about their kids' environments and they never get exposed to anything...in the good ole days before formula, they didn't have these extreme allergies either, but mom's didn't restrict their diet for breastfeeding then either. It's a tough call, but I'm glad that people are addressing the fact that there are, dare I say positives?! to formula. Good blog!
Today a team of eight from my moms group participated in Habitat for Humanity Women Build. The idea behind it is having houses built by teams of women (although men may also participate.) I thought I knew what I was in for. After all, I spent a week doing Habitat in college, and I have fond clear memories of spackling walls, hanging installation, and helping to build a porch. In fact I had even helped with the wiring.
My day started out at 5 am. I was psyched because I got to sleep in an additional ten minutes. I was able to take my time this morning, eat a little breakfast, and even check my email before I left. About 5 minutes into my trip to meet my carpool in a local Walmart parking lot, I realized that I had left my cat bed sweatshirt in the computer room at home. Since I figured that the heating situation in a partially built house would be poor at best, I turned around to retrieve it from its apparent resting spot on the floor of the computer room. Since, I almost never wear this particular sweatshirt, I wouldn't be too upset if it got ruined. (The cats might feel differently.)
The carpool quickly assembled and, after a stop at Dunkin Donuts, where the world's slowest teenaged workers appeared to find the idea of giving change to be a novel concept, we headed out out to Providence, RI. We had a brief introduction, and then we split into two groups of four.
Our group was assigned to hang drywall. I was a little nervous about it, but things initially went well. We just had to cut basically standard rectangular pieces. The only problem was my sweatshirt. I knew it was used extensively by the cats. I had not realized that a large golden retriever in desperate need of a bath had also been using it. As a result, I felt enveloped by the scent of dirty dog. While others may have been shielding their eyes from debris and their mouths from dust, I spent a lot of time shielding my nose from the smell of my own sweatshirt and hoping that everyone around me either was doing the same or had a cold. I'm such a nice person.
The drywall continued to go well, although things became less rectangular. I was particularly pleased with a tiny triangle that we cut out that perfectly filled a gap in the wall. Then we went to work hanging drywall over the studs on either side of two staircases. My grand plan had been to completely avoid any staircases, much less two of them. Unfortunately, two women in our group (other than me) were asked to work on another part of the house. That left me and a friend whom I will call Jane, as in Jane Austin since she's an avid reader, to handle all the drywall that required tricky angles. The list of items that we were required to bring today did not include a Masters in Engineering. Further, while math and science are normally my strengths, there is one big glaring exception to that: geometry. Guess what branch of math is a prerequisite to putting up drywall on a staircase...geometry. At least in my opinion. And no, we weren't asked to bring a degree in Math today either.
The first side of the staircase did appeared to go well. I would like to claim that was because of my brilliant insight, but the truth is that Jane totally took control of the situation, much to my relief. In fact, I would have had more luck assembling a jet airplane in the backyard. The area was measured, and the drywall was cut. Then we put it up to make sure it fit. It did not.
We started to panic. I could still smell the dog funk on me even though my sweatshirt was in another part of the house. The woman in charge suggested that we try the piece on the upstairs side of the banister. It didn't fit there either. The big piece of cut drywall appeared to be wasted. Well, maybe not totally wasted, as we could cut it up and use smaller pieces, but the beauty of one large perfectly cut piece was lost. Or so we thought. Then we realized we had cut it right in the first place; it was just backwards. Given that I was involved, I was surprised that it was even the right shape.
Vowing not to make that mistake again, we then did the other side of the first staircase. It was fine. I felt as proud as when I finished organic chemistry. Well, maybe almost as proud. My only regret was that I didn't have a camera to take a picture for my blog. Yeah right. Like I was thinking about photography. I just thought of the picture now. The point is I really felt a sense of accomplishment. We finished drywalling both sides of the first staircase. It did involve cutting many smaller pieces of drywall and using the Rasper tool on excess drywall. We got a lot of positive feedback.
I felt like we were on a roll, and I was looking forward to finishing the second staircase and being done with angles. We measured the final area that we needed to cover, took the last big piece of drywall, and double checked our measurements. I assured Jane that we wouldn't mess up. Everything would be fine. I had my mental Pythagoras hat, glasses and beard. Maybe not the beard. Except that what we really needed was Pythagoras himself. This time the piece really was backwards. Our piece would have to be cut into smaller pieces to be used.
I really enjoyed the experience of Habitat and yes even the drywalling! It was great to be able to help someone out and to be able to see the difference that our groups and others made. We got to meet the woman who would be living in the house. I really liked the concept of Women Build. It was really fun, and I would like to do it again.
Despite the mistakes, I was really pleased with what we accomplished. We covered both sides of the first staircase and the wall behind it. We also finished the walls at right angles to the back walls (I had to be able to take at least a little geometry away with me) and a good part of the area on one side of the second staircase. Everything that we did screw in looked good and fit well. Even better, now I think I really know how to cut sheet rock for the area next to a staircase. In fact, I almost feel like running out to Home Depot right now and grabbing some dry wall so I can seal up our banisters. Next time I'll know to immediately run to the outhouse if assigned drywall and to sneak in and join another group instead what I'm doing.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Smell any work clothes that you may plan to wear before leaving the house.
HA! At least there wasn't pee on it...that would have been sick! I bet it felt good to take a shower when you got home. Sounds like you all had fun, I'm sad to have missed out!
I remember my lab partner in genetics freaking out that her sweatshirt smelled. Seriously I couldn't smell anything. She spent the whole lab being totally concerned about it. After it was over, she went to change into a spare shirt that someone had and it turned out that her cat had peed on the back of her sweatshirt at some point.
Yesterday the Big Giraffe, the boys and I all went to the New England Aquarium. We finally made it to the bottom floor of the jellyfish exhibit. Attempts during previous visits had always failed due to the lure of the penguins in the other part of the aquarium. Armed with an even better line than "Because I said so" (which in all honesty I've been trying albeit not always successfully not to say as both the Big Giraffe and I hated that line as kids,), I declared "Because it's my birthday" to get a sulky older son (OS) to reluctantly come into the exhibit with me. Then we had to drag him out because he enjoyed it so much.
OS has been excited for a long while about my birthday cake. At some point he decided that I needed to have a Little Mermaid cake for my birthday. Seeing as I've never had a Little Mermaid cake before, and it was so important to OS, I thought it was a fabulous idea. After dinner, OS could barely contain his excitement. With some help from the Big Giraffe, OS carefully placed each plastic princess on the cake (Ariel was one of four princesses). OS made sure to keep me updated on the progress of the princess placement. Finally the big moment came. All three giraffes sang to me, and I blew out the candles. I could see both boys gazing at the princesses. I gave one to each of them and they acted like it was the best gift. Then they proceeded to use the princess, who were hollow under their skirts to scoop up their cake and eat it.
The princesses also came on the ride to preschool today, but waited in the car. They subsequently had quite a make believe story with the various plastic sharks, whales, squids, and other sea creatures that we have acquired ever since OS became obsessed with ocean life this past summer. My concern about these trendy kids cakes has been that after the candles are blown out, the overpriced cheap plastic toys on the cake are discarded. Not a problem in my house. These princesses are one of the boys' favorite gifts these past fews months. That and the free dog leash from the vet.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: As a parent, you may not choose your birthday cake, but you can choose to keep the last piece.
I absolutely loved this post, Alex. I sense what a real joy you get from parenting. And I love the idea of the kids scooping up their cake with the princesses.
I have a favorite memory from the N.E. Aquarium, too. When I was in grad school in Boston, my DH (who was then my BF) took a friend and I there soon after I had arrived. It was my first big "evening out" in Boston. My friend was from Japan and it was her first big evening out, too. So... as we were discussing the fish, the discussion turned to sushi, and we ended up having a wonderful sushi dinner, with everything chosen by my friend. It was great fun, if a little weird (having just seen them swimming and all).
And now I feel compelled to have a princess cake for my birthday in a month or two, when I will turn *gasp* 42 and become officially a decade older than you! Will you come for my party?
What a great day and the jelly fish exhibit sounds fantastic. We have nothing like an aquarium here so that sounds like a great thing to be able to do regularly.
The cake story is priceless. Keep this story for a great one to tell at their weddings!
at is the most hilarious 32nd birthday cake ever. I wish I had been there to eat it with you. Glad you had a wonderful, jellyfish and Disney princess filled birthday!
As I was driving my older son (OS) to school today, he announced that today is my last day of being 31. I immediately corrected him and said that it was my last day of being 32. Actually I'm going to be 32 tomorrow. Who accidentally thinks that they're older than they are? Shouldn't I be forgetting that I'm not 28 anymore?
29 was a huge birthday for me simply because for my entire life I have been hearing my elderly relatives tell me that they were 29. This lead me to believe that there must be something extra special. In fact 29 was to me was what 21 is to a lot of people: a birthday you look forward to your whole life. 30 was fun because well, it was the start of a new decade. Now I view people in their thirties as either being 30 or 35. I consider you around 30 if you're between 30 and 35, and I consider you around 35 if you're between 35 and 40. I don't make a distinction because honestly what's the difference between 33 and 34 for example? OK obviously the distinction is the difference of living a year longer, and I apparently consider the difference between 32 and 33 significant enough to devote an entire post to it, but there aren't any milestones between 30 and 35. Or at least there aren't any commonly recognized milestones. The Big Giraffe was really excited to celebrate a third of a century of excellence exactly 4 months after he turned 33, but that is only one of the many ways in which he is...unusual. Everyone is welcome to mark their own personal milestone, the way I marked 29 and the Big Giraffe marked 33.333 (repeating).
I still take pride in getting older each year. I don't deny that there may come a day when I want to hide my age, but for now, I'm still proud that I'm aging; you know the whole thing about getting older with wisdom, dignity and grace. Wait a minute! I'm still waiting for those things to happen. Does anyone know the exact age when I can expect to start experiencing these things? I have no problem with the number itself getting higher. Hey today I thought I was turning 33 tomorrow instead of 32. Hmm...perhaps that in and of itself shows I'm getting older!
In celebration, the Big Giraffe is taking the day off and we will be having a family outing. My older son (OS) also picked out a Little Mermaid birthday cake for me. He is quite excited about it. In fact he was so excited about it, he told everyone at preschool that I am going to be 32 tomorrow. You know it actually made me a little uncomfortable. Are you assuming that it made me feel old? Nope. It made me feel really young when the teacher commented on my age.
Happy birthday! I've thought I was 32 since Steph turned that age on Big Giraffe's birthday. Although sometimes I forget how old I am and answer with random ages because I'm a space cadet. And I am with you - I don't have any problem getting older. Why should we?
That is too funny! I keep forgetting how old I am too. I think 33 but maybe I have spent the entire year thinking the same way you were. Maybe I am only 32.
Probably not. Just wishful thinking.
Oh and is Big Giraffe and accountant or an actuary? 33.3333. Being an accountant myelf that cracked me up!
Oh and I'm so with you on the 'eh what's the big deal about getting older. I'm just happy to be here living life. (although I reserve the right to change that thought process at any time over the next several years)
Happy Birthday! I like your perspective on getting older. I look pretty young and have gotten quite a few "really??" when I tell people mt age, which makes me even older for some reason. maybe this year I'll just be happy about it.
Happy Birthday Alex! I hope you are having a wonderful, wonderful day today. And, yep, I also appreciate my age and look forward to enjoying the phrase "with age comes wisdom". One day I'll get there ; -) Big birthday hugs! -EE
Happy Birthday, Alex! I shut down blogs for The Day to Read and missed this post. I hope you had a wonderful day. What more could one wish for than a little mermaid b'day cake? ;-)
While I personally feel like the workouts I've been done should have me finishing first place in the Ironman Triathlon, the distances for the triathlons I'm training for are slightly smaller. I mean clearly I could do a 2.4 mile ocean swim, followed by a 112 mile bike road and then conclude it with a 26.2 mile run in the snap of my fingers. I mean I could start it right now and be finished with it in...maybe 6 months. Why focus on that though? A triathlon is a triathlon, right? In all seriousness, triathlons are all different lengths. Part of the reason I laughed the first time the first several times I considered doing a triathlon, was that I imagined that any triathlon would be one step below the Ironman. Here are some answers to some questions I've received:
For my first triathlon the swimming will be 400 Yards, the biking will be 7 miles on a flat course (a fact which was even advertised on the race website), and the running will be 2.3 miles, in that order. For my second triathlon, the swim will be half a mile, the bike will be 12 miles on apparently hilly terrain, and the running distance will be approximately 3 miles.
The Big Giraffe and my parents are buying me a bike for my birthday although I won't actually get it until it gets warmer. However, the bike store will let me put a deposit down now so that I can get a 2007 model which is much cheaper. This way I also don't have to stick my brand-new bike in the basement to wait out the winter
Suzanne, one of my oldest and best friends as well as my younger son's godmother, is treating me to pedals for my birthday. This bike is truly a gift of love since it's from some of the most important people in my life. Or perhaps, it is a gift of awe of my insanity commitment to this.
The running is going better than I expected, but I am a little worried about doing it after having done the swimming and biking legs of the triathlon. I just have to keep in mind that I won't be doing it at 5:30 in the morning.
Yesterday my older son (OS) decided to hop like a bunny rabbit throughout the entire grocery store leading me once again to conclude that Beverly Clearly is a genius and somehow was able to see into the future and base Ramona after OS. Right on the cover of Beezus and Ramona is a picture of Ramona wearing bunny ears because she insisted that she was a bunny rabbit and proceeded, much to Beezus's horror, to begin to hop to the library.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: You don't need to be an ironman to finish a triathlon.
I just want to give you kudos for what you're doing. I'm a very athletic person and I've never even considered trying to train for a triathlon. I'm behind you 100% and I know you'll be great.
The check is in the mail for your birthday pedals. Seriously, it is. I am in awe of you for taking on not one, but two, triathalons. You'll do great, running and all.
The Big Giraffe has tried hard to be supportive of me doing a triathlon. At times I've gotten the sense that he's a little overwhelmed by trying to figure out why someone would want to do one, but nonetheless he seems pleased that this is something that I want to do. He and the boys are already talking about making signs for the big day.
This past weekend, we went to look at bicycles. I just wanted to know what was out there and more importantly, the total cost of the bike including accessories. I'm looking for a good bike to be able to do triathlons with and while I'm obviously no Lance Armstrong, I want more than just a recreational bike. I already had a good idea of what I wanted from some research I had done and talking to other people. Hence, I know it would be a little pricey to say the least.
We went a place recommended by my triathlon buddy since her husband is very into biking and actually used to race in college. We walked into the store, and I explained to the salesclerk what I was looking for in a bike. He seemed very knowledgeable about bikes and triathlons, and immediately showed me a couple different bikes. One appeared to be perfect. I asked a bunch of questions about it, how it handled, the cost, and also the cost of the accessories. I was trying to contain myself, but the fact of the matter is, I am extremely excited to be getting a bike.
The Big Giraffe was trying really hard to be enthusiastic. He too asked a bunch of questions. Then I saw his face engage in an internal tug of war, which usually means he is trying as hard as he can not to laugh. (I think someone who didn't know him would have been fooled.) I was not impressed. I figured the Big Giraffe about to make a snide remark about the triathlon. I prepared myself to come up with a witty remark. Then very calmly, the Big Giraffe told the salesclerk that he just wanted to be clear that the cost of the bike, did not include the pedals.
I had forgotten to tell him that based on my prior research, this is often the case.
The Big Giraffe's Lesson Learned: The more expensive the bike, the less likely that it will come in rideable condition.
M-kay...so I know nothing about bicycles except that it costs about $35 to get the kids bikes "tuned up" every year. But, seriously, your bike will not come with pedals? Should we hold a pedal fundraiser? Can I bid to sponsor your pedal purchase?
Good for you, you must be so excited to get the new bike! Your husband sounds alot like mine, you can practically hear those wheels in his head spinning furiously! So, do they (bike manufacturers) do this purposely because the pedals need to be somewhat customized to your height, etc.? I'm curious! BTW, I just read your previous post about the dental floss, almost spit my coffee out, that's so funny! Their little brains are always working so hard to figure things out, aren't they? Actually, I think he's pretty smart to correlate floss to a yo-yo!
Wow...I'd never heard of such a thing. Buy a bike with no pedals huh? Here I thought the bikes my husband and I bought a few years ago were pretty good ones too but they came with pedals so I guess not!
Really ??? No pedals...um that's good to know for my next triathlon. Oh wait I'm utterly lazily so I will have to live vicariously through you and your rockstar efforts
This post is for the Big Giraffe since he couldn't stop laughing when I told him about it.
My older son (OS) has always loved playing in the bathroom. I don't know what it is about the bathroom that he finds so attractive, but if things get very quiet while he is awake, I can almost guarantee that he's playing in the bathroom, no matter how many times I've told him not to. Since he's 4 and has been potty trained for a year, it has become trickier. We're really working on privacy, so I don't want to just barge into the bathroom or start knocking on the door every time he goes into it. Sometimes he really is using it for...um...legitimate reasons! I don't want to make him nervous.
A while ago, I re-read Beezus and Ramonaby Beverly Clearly. It was like she knew OS. There was a scene in which preschooler Ramona gave Ribsy the dog a timeout in the bathroom, and Ribsy accidentally locked the door with his paw. I can't even tell you the number of times I've stopped a "dog timeout" in progress either by freeing Gandalf or requiring a sulky OS to free him. OS's reasoning is identical to Ramona's reasoning; since Gandalf doesn't have his own room (where OS has his timeouts) Gandalf can use the bathroom as his room.
Between OS's playful tendencies and his friendship with Toilet Paper Babies, I wasn't initially concerned when I found one of the free, sample floss containers from the dentist's office with the floss pulled out all over the bathroom. After finding the 3rd container pulled out in less than a week, I started becoming concerned. Then I encountered OS. He handed me an empty floss container.
OS: Here's your yo-yo mommy. Me: What? OS: (with look on his face like I'm an incredible idiot) Your yo-yo. Just like the yo-yo Grandma got me for Christmas.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: For clean teeth and healthy gums, brush and yo yo every day.
Today I decided to take the plunge...perhaps a leap of faith...perhaps put my best foot forward, and decided that it was time to start the running portion of my training. Alright really my triathlon training buddy convinced me that it was time. As such, I needed to get running shoes.
The boys and I went to a running store recommended to me and I have to say I was pretty impressed with how the salesman fitted me. (Don't worry. That's not what I mean, Big Giraffe.) He was familiar with the triathlons for which I have registered, and he agreed that they are good for beginners. He had me walk around the store in my socks and then take a few sprints on the treadmill, each time wearing a different pair of running shoes. He then answered some of my questions about running. Feeling like just maybe I was a member of the "triathlon club," I was in a pretty good mood. I asked him when I would need to replace my running shoes. He gave me an answer that was in miles. I gave him a blank look. He then clarified his answer.
Salesman: They should take you through June. AE: That's great. Salesman: Yeah, normally you should replace them every 3 months, but with those triathlons, you're not going to be doing a lot of running. AE: (Disgusted look) Salesman: Do you know my cousin "Labarry" who works at the Y?
Alright, maybe he didn't deliver that last line, but I know they must be related.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: One big run for one woman may be a small run for womankind.
That must have been his cousin! Sheesh. BTW... at least in our town, some of the running stores have groups who help folks train for races and triathlons. You might want to look into that (but maybe not at that particular store).
Ha! I was training for a 5-mile race once and a man I knew said, "that's a nice little race." I thought I might punch him. But I didn't. I'm impressed you are doing a triathlon!
OK, at least you got fitted well for the shoes. I never get good service, no matter what running store I go to. Next time I am up by you, I want to go see Labarry's cousin. And ignore him. My shoes last me for about six months and I do a decent amount of running. (Or at least I did until I fell on the sea urchin.)
Did you want to hit him with a shoe? I think I know which store you're referring to because I've gotten fitted (heh) at that store. Believe me, I wanted to hit them with a shoe. But damn, they know how to fit a woman.
Back when I did aerobics, I was given an answer in hours, for how long a pair of shoes would last. Useful, I guess, if you measure your life in terms of classes taken!
Last week I received the Idiot's Guide to Triathlons from my brother-in-law and sister-in-law for the holidays. Yes, I really did request this book! It was exactly what I wanted. It answered all the basic questions I had about triathlons: what equipment I need, how a triathlon is set up, and whether or not to wear underwear underneath my biking shorts. What more could I want? Perhaps a section on how to use Vaseline or deodorant on your legs to avoid chaffing during running and biking. Wait a minute, that was in there too!
All this talk of deodorant made me particularly excited about working out this past week. Alright really reading about triathlons made me especially motivated to work out this week. As such, one evening last week I went to the gym to lift weights.
I had been working a particular set of weight lifting workouts for a couple of weeks and I really felt like I was making progress. I finished my last set of inverted rows (the opposite of doing a push-up; instead of pushing down, I pull up to a low rising bar while lying down). I walked around the bar and found that someone had placed a giant 45 pound weight right where there had been space only a few minutes earlier...with my knee.
I was trying to keep calm and honestly as someone who went through back labor (twice), I can't say that it was the worst pain I've ever felt. However, it really hurt, and my knee was starting to swell. I went and told a certain staff member whom I'll call "Labarry", that I needed an ice pack. He was on a personal phone call and looked completely annoyed that I had interrupted him. He put the phone down, dismissively passed me an ice pack, made a snide comment about how he didn't understand how I could have walked into a weight, and then returned to his phone call before I could even respond.
If I would have foreseen the accident, I would have avoided it. Well, at least I would have run it by Labarry first to make sure it was a sensible accident. Clearly he's an expert on them. I did have a moment of validation when I showed Labarry my bruised knee a few days later and he admitted that it must have hurt. Yet another display of genius.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Please make sure your accidents are approved by a professional trainer in advance, but only while that trainer is not busy with a personal call.
I'm still giggling after reading that, (not that you hitting your knee is funny, I feel your pain, I swear!) but the scenerio you described was funny and sadly typical. I think unless you have blood streaming down your face or something equally as startling the hired help at health clubs just don't get too excited! (didn't you know you're not supposed to interrupt their personal calls?) :) So, are you truly participating in a triathalon? Wow! I'm very impressed! I would never have thought about the deodorant/lotion aspect. Guess that's why I don't do triathalons! You go girl!
Sadly, this is not a phenomenon limited to the East Coast. We made national news when a breast-feeding mom was kicked out of the pool area (no, she wasn't feeding her child IN the pool) because she was monitoring her two preschoolers who were in the pool and had her baby with her, who was starting to cry. She was kicked out because her breastfeeding was "distracting" the male teen lifeguard. Goodness, he couldn't keep it in his pants? LOL. I had to formula feed (another topic I'll e-mail you on), but like you, everyone should be able to parent to the best of their ability, and trying to drag out two preschoolers so baby could have a snack break would have been a bit much. Anyway, more silliness from my PC town, lol. I'm so sorry about your knee!
Oh Alex! That made me laugh. I so know what you mean!! I don't know what I would have done... I love how LaBarry was on a personal call and annoyed you needed an ice pack. Where do they find these trainers??????????
I hope you are well and that you have a GREAT New Year!!
Oh dear! Heartless Labarry! Accidents aside, your motivation is motivating me. As soon as I get out of the cold and the snow and back to Germany I am back to the gym.
Labarry? Totally has a cousin down in Hawaii. After I explained to EMT Labarry how I slipped off a rock and landed on a sea urchin, he asked me why I didn't look where I was going. Fortunately, the other 4 EMTs who showed up to help me were not only sympathetic, but extremely attractive.
Thank you to Lara for providing such a wonderful start to the new year with her Blog Exchange post giving out "Best New" awards for 2007. I hope to continue the upbeat tone, by posting about how much fun my family has had over the last two days. (The Big Giraffe keeps claiming that today was the best day of the year, so far.)
Yesterday we went to First Night Worcester with two other families. They say pessimists are never disappointed. I don't want to call parents of small kids pessimists, but it is fortunately difficult to disappoint people whose only expectations is that their kids will inevitably have at least a half a dozen meltdowns. To describe us as pleasantly surprised would be an understatement! We really enjoyed First Night. We saw an animal show (not with giraffes), watched some ballet dancing, and listened to Caribbean music for kids. It was definitely worth the $20 that the Big Giraffe and I paid. That is not to say that my children did not have meltdowns, but they were manageable and they came between moments of great enjoyment. On a complete dorky note, we also got to use the Garmin GPS that my parents got us for the holidays, even though we already knew the route. We just wanted to try it out.
We then went out for an amazing meal!
Prime rib
Yorkshire pudding
Quiche
Green beans
Pecan, pear and Gorgonzola salad
Garlic mashed potatoes
Fruit salad
Chocolate cheesecake
Chocolate fondue with fruit and marshmallows
I'm getting hungry again just thinking about it! Of course there was also wine and pink champagne to toast in the New Year at 8:30 pm.
Where on earth could three families take five children on New Year's Eve for that kind of feast? Well, when I said that we went out, I didn't actually mean out to a restaurant. I meant out of our house. One of the families hosted and somehow put it together so well in advance that everything was ready to eat very quickly after our return from First Night.
In addition to the wonderful hospitality and company enjoyed at the home of friends, the other good news about not being at a restaurant is that there is a lot more room for kids to act up. The better news is that they again had far fewer meltdowns than I expected. Each child took his turn (yes not only were there five children, but they were all boys) causing some measure of trouble, but given the amount of time spent walking in the cold, the stimulation of all the shows, and the amount of excitement, I think they all did really well. However, we ended up turning the GPS off on the way home to let them sleep peacefully once we confirmed that we have been using the proper route when previously traversing the route.
It really was a fabulous way to end 2007...followed by a fantastic beginning to 2008!
This morning we headed out to meet a co-worker of the Big Giraffe's (whom he has been insisting that I would enjoy meeting for several months), her husband, and their three kids. (Yes out with five kids two days in a row.) We went to a theater where we were able to sit in very comfortable chairs, socialize for an hour over food from an extensive menu, and then watch Water Horse. This was not your typical movie theater.
Why didn't we watch Alvin and the Chipmunks, you might ask. Well for two reasons:
My older son (OS) and I really wanted to see a movie about an "underwater horse" and everyone else rode along
Alvin was sold out
More information on the venue and the experience may be found on my post at New England Mamas, but I will say that for this trip we really needed the GPS!
For the second day in a row, the children's behavior was far better than expected, and the Big Giraffe's prediction that I would like his colleague was correct. I really enjoyed meeting and spending time with the entire family. I also enjoyed the movie, but it was definitely scarier than I would have liked for my kids. That's not to say that they didn't enjoy it, but there were parts that did scare my kids, my older son in particular. It would probably be better on DVD where I could have fast forwarded through the scary scenes, like when the water horse was trying to bite people and when the soldiers were firing artillery at what they believed was an attack by the German navy. (The movie took place in Scotland during World War II.)
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: Ending one year with pre-existing friends and starting another with new friends makes for an enjoyable and memorable transition.
It sounds as if you've started 2008 in a great way :) We thought about First Night this year, but thought it might be more trouble than it's worth, but I think we'll give it a shot next year. (Especially after your wonderful review!)
Thanks for stopping by. I've been a total flake about blog surfing the last few months - I'm glad I didn't lose you!
Well, folks, a new year is upon us, and what better way to celebrate it than by reminiscing about the year we’ve just left? No, no, 2008, it’s not you, it’s just that we liked 2007 so darn much that we want to keep it around for a little longer. Your time will come, most likely in January of 2009. It’s the circle of life.
So herein I would like to present you with my “Best New” Awards for 2007:
Best New Experience
Winner: Sex. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. After almost a full 25 years of virginhood, I finally took the plunge, and I can’t say I regret it even the tiniest bit. What I do regret is the fact that once you know what you’re missing, it’s a lot tougher to go without… Sigh.
Runner-Up: Blues Dancing. My roommate, Jitta, convinced me to accompany her to a blues night once, and I loved it. So musical, so sensual, so dirty (but in a good way). When it’s done right, it’s actually quite similar to sex. Go figure.
Best New Relationship
Winner: My roommate, Jitta. Even though Jitta and I have known each other for years, it was only in 2007 that we became roommates. Soon after, she became my best friend and my partner in crime. She is one of the most important people in my life, and I’m so glad we moved into this new stage in our friendship.
Runner-Up: Aussie Boy. Aussie Boy was my first dating experience after my fiance and I broke up in October of 2006. He didn’t put any pressure on me to get serious right away, he helped boost my confidence and independence, and he helped me see that I could be happy again. I owe him a lot for helping me through a major transition.
Best New TV Show
Winner: “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” I’m not sure I can fully describe how much I love this show, nor how ashamed I am of my deep admiration. But every Thursday night, I am tuned in to FOX to see stupid Americans make asses of themselves with questions that I could answer in my sleep. You know, except for the ones I don’t know. ‘Cause then I’m stumped.
Runner-Up: “Don’t Forget the Lyrics.” I probably wouldn’t have even tuned into this show if it weren’t on right after “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” But once I saw it a few times, I fell in love. Now I’m singing along every week for a full hour.
Best New Make-Up
Winner: Bare Minerals. After years of watching the infomercials in the middle of the night, I finally broke down and ordered the foundation set. It’s AMAZING. Seriously, I would never put anything else on my face now. If you’ve been considering trying it, do it.
Runner-Up: Cover Girl’s Outlast Double Lip Shine. This lip color goes on easy, but then sets in to stick so that it won’t rub off in the first 15 minutes of wear. Over it you apply the clear gloss to keep it shiny and smooth. My favorite color is “megawatt mauve.”
Best New Phrase
Winner: “Oh, cha-SQUEE-do!” This comes from an episode of “My Name Is Earl,” where Joy looks up how to say, “Oh, snap!” in Spanish. The translation she comes up with is, “Oh, chasquido,” which she pronounces as I wrote above. Add in a southern accent and you’ve got one of my favorite new phrases.
Runner-Up: “Oh, snappity snap!” I picked this one up from Jitta, and I have no idea where she got it from. Used in the same situations as above, when I’m looking for a little variety.
Best New Musical Artist
Winner: Missy Higgins. When I discovered her back in October, I said she was “the new musical love of my life.” She’s an amazing singer with beautiful piano accompaniment, and her lyrics really strike me. My favorite songs include “They Weren’t There,” “Any Day Now,” and “The Special Two.”
Runner-Up: A Fine Frenzy. Similar in sound to Missy Higgins, Jitta introduced me to A Fine Frenzy. The lyrics of “Almost Lover” pulled me in first, but the whole album (“One Cell in the Sea”) is great, both lyrically and musically.
Best New Blog
Winner: GenPink. Elysa – the author – explains it better than I could: “GenPink is about being a twenty something woman. Letting others know how our generation is different than those before us.” As a twenty-something woman, I adore this site and the perspective it offers.
Runner-Up: Juice: Entertainment News with Extra Pulp. I can’t deny it – I loves me some celebrity gossip. Ali (of Cheaper Than Therapy) was already one of my favorite bloggers, so when she started a second blog especially for celeb news, I was hooked from the start.
And, last but not least…
Best New Outlook on Life
Winner: “Remember: God give you one life. Kick ass!” Imagine this in a really cute Pakistani accent. I’m going to try to live by it all through 2008. Maybe I’ll even stitch it on a sampler and hang it in my bedroom.
This post was written by Lara David as a part of the January Blog Exchange. Lara can normally be found writing and photographing her life’s lessons at Life: The Ongoing Education. Life is all about learning, and so Lara is doing her best to learn something new every day; unfortunately, many days are often spent trying not to forget what she’s already learned. To find Alex’s post, head on over to Life: The Ongoing Education. To read other posts from this month’s Blog Exchange, or to find out how to join in next month, click here.
I wondered what everyone would write for this. I had such a hard time coming up with something...in fact, if I'd known what the topic was before I'd said yes I'd probably have passed.
Wait a minute! I thought Tango was the next best thing to sex. That's why I began taking lessons. Maybe I've been misinformed. If I flirt a little bit with Blues while still committed to Tango, will I be cheating? :-P
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.
(Don't worry. That's not what I mean, Big Giraffe.) He was familiar with the triathlons for which I have registered, and he agreed that they are good for beginners. He had me walk around the store in my socks and then take a few sprints on the treadmill, each time wearing a different pair of running shoes. He then answered some of my questions about running. Feeling like just maybe I was a member of the "triathlon club," I was in a pretty good mood. I asked him when I would need to replace my running shoes. He gave me an answer that was in miles. I gave him a blank look. He then clarified his answer. 
Freaking brilliant! I actually said something quite like this to my 20 year old sister last time she was in town with her friends.
This is why I love yo, Alex. :D