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
I have a confession to make. And it's a pretty big one so pull up a chair and listen up, I'll only say this once.
I like gold jewelry.
I know, I KNOW. Silver is in. More precisely, platinum is in. I specifically remember going engagement ring shopping with my now husband and a jeweler asked me what I liked and pulled out some rings. All platinum or white gold. And when I told him I liked gold he told me "I needed to upgrade my taste." I don't think it needs to be said that my ring was purchased from somewhere else.
I live in a very affluent area. A place where a women's status is measured by the ring on her finger. And I have a lovely engagement ring. It is a one of a kind that my husband actually designed himself with a jeweler. But it's gold. And sometimes when women look at me their eyes land on my ring and I can almost hear their thoughts. "She must have sacrificed platinum for size." Or "her husband didn't know that you only buy rings in platinum and she is too afraid to tell him."
I love my ring. And in fact all of my jewelry is gold, because that's what I like. Part of it is my skin tone, white gold looks odd on me. And part of it is just what I like. And I'm not ashamed to say it. I'm not "in."
This post is part of The Blog Exchange. Jodi is mom to an almost 3 year old, a part-time lawyer, and wife. She blogs at Jodifur about all these things and many more. Please visit her site, and you will see Alex’s post! And thanks to Alex for being such a lovely hostess.
I have a similar confession... I like white gold or platinum, but diamonds just aren't my thing. I like sapphires, so my husband got me a sapphire engagement ring. And I am SURE I get a lot of looks for that. But he got me what I liked, and I am happy to wear it.
Do women really look at your ring and judge it and you?
I like gold, and silver, and will mix the two. Gold was in style back when we got married, so my rings are all gold (engagement, wedding, and anniversary). I don't prefer diamonds, so my main stone in my engagement ring is a garnet. My husband also designed my ring, on the idea of the cladaugh. It's always been complimented.
You're right! Our posts are similar. How funny that we all feel the need to justify our tastes like that (no diamonds, gold this, etc...). Shows how much the diamond industry, and the wedding industry, has us all brainwashed into thinking we're all odd. I feel just as defensive about white gold instead of yellow or platinum.
I love engagement bands that aren't diamond, particularly antique rings used for engagement bands. I knew that this diamond was the only one I'd want, though. So I'm quite pleased.
I know plenty of people who like yellow gold and have yellow gold rings instead of white gold or platinum.
Around here yellow gold is more common than white actually. I prefer the silver but that's just me. But you already know that from my post. :P Who cares what other people think as long as you like it.
My husband is defensive sometimes about how "small" my diamond is. But it's perfect for me so who cares.
Ha! Upgrade your taste indeed. That's a salesman that needs to learn some manners if he wants to earn the commission! I love that you know what you love and you make no excuses about it. For the record, I wear a silver ring at the moment, but that's only because my gold rings are in need of maintenance and repair and I just haven't done that yet. And, also for the record, my gold engagement ring is a PEARL, not a diamond. I like what I like too. Great post, Jodi. SO fun that you and Alex got to be partners this month!
It's been fun having you over here today! I have an antique replica for an engagement ring. People tend to assume that it was a family heirloom and are surprised when it's not. I just like the look.
Eh, being "in" is overrated. Having things you actually like is way better. I'd punch any jeweler in the face if he/she had the nerve to tell me I need to upgrade my tastes. (They did try very hard to upsell us on a diamond, but I stayed strong and firm and walked away with a nice small one that looks normal on my small fingers and was not hard on the wallet.)
I am so with you this Jodi! My rings are gold and I didn't compromise size... HA! Most would scoff at the size but for me, that wasn't what it was about.
Ahh the TV battles; to let your kids watch or to not let them watch. It seems like this is one of those topics that will forever be ongoing. How appropriate then to discuss it for this month's Blog Exchange. Normally, we "switch blogs" for a day with our exchange partner. Today I am posting here as usual in mild support of letting children watch some TV, while Amy Jo presents the opposite view on Cheese Party. I encourage you to read her post and to pick sides in the various other debates this month by following the links from the Blog Exchange site.
I wasn't allowed to watch TV when I was growing up. That's not entirely true. I was allowed to watch Sesame Street and Mr Rogers Neighborhood, which may sound good if you are thinking about toddlers and preschoolers, but trust me when you're in 4th grade, it's not what you want to be watching. When I was in third grade, we had to write a couple of paragraphs about our favorite sitcom to practice writing cursive. I had never seen a sitcom. After talking to my teacher, my assignment was adjusted to write about my mother's favorite sitcom.
The fact of the matter is, as an adult I love TV. When I have evening or weekend down-time, relaxing in front of the TV is one of my favorite past times. I'm also an avid reader, and I can't fall asleep at night unless I spend at least half an hour with a book. I'm sure my parents would never have expected me to watch this much TV once I grew up. (In fact they still may be surprised!)
When I had my first son, I really thought long and hard about what I wanted to do with screen time. My husband was allowed to watch all the TV he wanted growing up and was an outstanding student. I have to admit he is much better at turning off the tube than I am (except for sports, although I don't understand why he avidly watches local teams that he doesn't even route for). I knew that I didn't want to be extreme with TV, but at the same time, I wasn't sure where to draw the line.
As a parent, my job is to help my kids navigate through the world. My responsibility is to teach them how to make good decisions and ensure they learn how to be balanced. Like it or not, TV is a part of our culture. Whether it's TV character Halloween costumes, stickers of TV characters, or lunchroom conversations about the shows themselves, it's hard to avoid the long reaching arms of TV. As such, I think it's important for me to teach my kids how to make good decisions about watching TV. I'm not talking about newborns here, but kids who are aware. Keeping them away from TV altogether does not teach them how to live in a world that has TV. At some point they will be adults living on their own and they can watch as much TV as they want. Demonstrating a balanced approach to TV feels like the best way to encourage them to make balanced decisions about TV as adults.
A while back I was talking to a therapist friend of mine about TV. She argued that TV is a great tool for teaching kids to make independent decisions. She suggested that once children get to preschool, it makes sense to let them choose from a list of shows that you consider acceptable. As a parent, it may be a struggle when your child chooses a show that you think is quite frankly stupid, but your child loves. Your challenge as the parent is to not put down your child's decision. Rather you need to calmly explain why you don't like the show and respectfully listen to why your child does like the show. Then you need to further respect the decision. After all, if you can't tolerate it at all, it doesn't belong on your approved list.
So what's the point of this? It's the same process that you go through when your child chooses a friend whom you don't like or wears clothes that you don't like. In all of these cases, as the parent you provide guidelines and structure, your child practices making decisions, and your child's perspective is heard and respected.
On most weekdays, my older son (OS) can pick one longer show or two short shows. Since we Tivo everything, we bypass the commercials, so it amounts to about 40 minutes. I say most rather than all weekdays, because TV is a privilege that must be earned, not an entitlement. Not all of the shows on my approved list are equal. For example, I inwardly cringe when OS chooses The Little Mermaid over Sesame Street. That said, as brainless as I find the show, it doesn't bother me as long as it isn't chosen too often. There are a couple of kids shows that are not on the approved list because I don't like the attitudes and behaviors of the characters.
The only hole in our system is deciding what to do with our younger son (YS). As with many second-borns, YS ends up going along for the ride. Unless I'm going to keep him in his room when OS watches TV, YS is going to see it too. This is starting to provide different teaching opportunities for the boys. They are learning about compromise and negotiation since, despite OS's claims to the contrary, YS has started to express TV preferences that differ from his brother.
A. Elliot's Lesson Learned: It is better for children to learn to make decisions when the consequences of those decisions are relatively minor.
This all makes perfect sense to me. I watched A LOT of TV as a kid and was also an avid reader and a good student. (I was, however, also chunky, so...) I think limited TV to some extent could make sense, but as you said getting kids to make good choices is the most important thing all around because you can't and won't always be there.
We are holding off until he is two for the TV though. Hard to teach good choices about TV when he is pre-verbal.
I learned to appreciate classical music from watching Bugs Bunny cartoons (no lie, I really did), I learned about leadership and responsibility from watching Star Trek, I learned about space and astronomy by watching Nova and Cosmos, I learned about aspects of history that I never learned in school, I learned grammar and history lessons from Schoolhouse Rock.
Glad you brought this up. We've got a little bit of time to decide when and how much TV the little guy will be watching, at least another year. My husband says none at all but realistically that's not going to happen. Better to have a good plan in place and stick to it. Thanks for the thoughts on it.
I agree about having a reasoned, thought-out plan -- wise.
And your point about the younger child is so true. Last night when he was burned out from trick-or-treating, my 2 year old watched Hannah Montana! Uh oh.
I think you make an excellent argument here Alex. One of the main reasons we've managed to stay away from TV so far is because my kids are little (20 months and 2 months) so it hasn't become too much of an issue as far as peers are concerned. Once they're a little older, however, we'll probably need to re-think things.
Thank god there are smart people (like you!) with older children who have already thought through these things!
I don't have a problem with TV per se. I have a problem with people who allow children to sit in front of the TV all the time as a form of babysitting. And yes, there are those types of people out there.
I personally happen to love watching TV at night. We also TiVo everything we watch and hubby and I like to spend some down time each night after the baby has gone to bed watching the programs we like.
I'm torn at the moment, however, as to how much time I allow the TV to be on in my house when the baby is awake. I like to have CNN on in the morning and she shows no interest in it, but when my step father watches golf MJ gets a glazed look on her face ands tares at the screen. That worries me, on many levels. lol
A limited amount of tv with age appropriate content is fine. I don't oppose my children watching tv. In fact I was allowed to watch quite a bit and must say I do enjoy it myself. Maybe a bit too much in fact. Thus I've limited how much my kids can watch and instead encouraged them to do other things (crafts, coloring, imaginative play, playing with toys/games).
My mom let us watch an insane amount of television growing up. I know every Brady Bunch and Monkeys (Monkies?) episode. I watched news I shouldn't have watched. That said I can tune out a television. My husband, who also watched an insane amount of t.v. cannot turn away from a television that is on.
Where am I going with this? Television in moderation and only with consideration to what they are hearing/listening to. I cannot stand that kids at age 6 talk about dating and marriage, because that is what the "big kids" on television do (and I don't let my kids watch those shows, it is what the kids at school talk about). Didn't boys have cooties when we were 6?
We used to have a small B&W TV in the kitchen until I was about 7 or 8. My mom decided that watching quality programs like "Tic Tac Dough" and "Joker's Wild" were not better than family discussions. (She was wrong, of course. Many discussions turned out to be about whether there were boogers in the Kool Aid or not.)
Now I think I will write about this on CUSS tomorrow. Thanks for the excellent idea.
I so agree. My mom was like your mom and I still watch TV. My husband watched lots of TV and still does and is a good person. We just strive for balance. Just wait until you have three kids and who knows what they end up watching :)
Today is Blog Exchange today. I encourage all visitors to the blog to read Heather's creative take on this month's Blog Exchange topic, "Dear Mr. President," which is right below this post. Those of you who are visiting solely because of The Washington Post article about politics, money, formula industry lobbying, and breastfeeding advertisements can jump to that post.
I know that you are busy since you have only recently moved into the White House. Isn’t it fortunate for you and your family that you have people to unpack for you? Of course, things will not be where you’d arrange your home yourself, but beggars can’t be choosers, so they say.
Your campaign was one of dignity and class. I was impressed by your performance during the debates. You spoke eloquently, yet succinctly. You inspired the uninspirable. You kissed babies with the best of them. People are talking about a second Camelot, but with a happier ending.
I wish that I could tell you that things will be easier now that you’ve attained this position, but I’m certain that you will have many sleepless nights ahead. It is similar to becoming a parent. You lose sleep for the people and the things that you love. Your love for your country and for the people in it has brought you to this point.
Our country’s future is something to lose sleep over. It’s something that we love and it is in danger.
I’m grateful there are people like you who are willing to weather the scrutiny and bear the heavy burden of stress in order to hold the highest position available in the United States.
It is not a job that I would choose for myself or anyone in my family, but you cannot choose the path that others take.
I am proud of you.
Love, Your Mom
Heather is Mom to 2 children, 5-year-old M , and 3-year-old K. Heather’s mind contains random thoughts and she feels compelled to share them with strangers via her blog. She hopes the future presidents will be better than the current one. Thanks to Alex Elliot for sharing her space with me today.
This post is part of the September Blog Exchange. This month we're titling our posts “Dear Mr. President”. You can find Alex at my site today, and the full list of participants can be found by clicking here.
Oh my gosh, Heather, what a clever twist on this! Isn't it interesting how kids used to want to grow up to be president when we were kids? Now they all want to be movie stars and athletes. I'm not sure if I'd want my children to be any of these, but you are right about letting them follow their own path. Well done!
awwww how sweet to think of your baby as president! Funny to think my little baby could be president of the US ... (we are Canadian but our son was born here)
Alex, As you know I am not at home right now and my internet connection is iffy at best. I tried to post my thoughts on your post on my site but it didn't work so I'll post tomorrow night about that!
Thanks so much for being so flexible with getting me your post early and for having such a cool blog to crash at!
For accuracy, this post should really be titled "In My Child's Ears." Or perhaps, "In My Child's Nose." No, not sniffing drugs, you naughty people, I'm talking about boogers.
Anyway, let's get back on topic: In my child's eyes, what I do and say is magnified and recorded.
Sometimes, I'm pleased with the reflection. When my two-year old son wraps his arms around my shoulders in preparation for a piggyback ride, he tells me, "Hold on! Be careful!" I can tell he's been hearing my safety advice. After I put him down, he says, "Good job, mama." He's hearing encouragement – I'm glad of that too.
Other times, I find that an offhand remark has been taken to heart. A couple of days ago, we were playing air guitar, and he requested "Killer Queen," a challenging Freddie Mercury tune. I must have said something about its complexity, because when we mention the song now, he always says, "Killer Queen is very hard."
Imagine if I had said, "Math is hard," like those infamous talking Barbie dolls and he'd ingested that instead. I don't imagine that he truly understands all that he's saying, but it can be surprising how repeating words can make things feel true.
Occasionally, I am quite chagrined to learn what must be the most common words out of my mouth. Yesterday, he sat on my lap and examined my face intently. I smiled back fondly at him. He took his blankie and rubbed in on my cheek. Awwww. Then he rubbed my nose and said, "Mama, you have boogers."
For the record, there was no mucus in my nose! But I guess we know what we've been talking about here.
Lady M works in high tech, directs a vintage dance performance group, and takes intermittently interesting photographs. She and her husband, SwingDaddy, spend most of their time chasing after their toddler,Q, and trying to stay one step ahead of his martial arts moves. While she is sharing what comes into Q's ears and out his mouth here as part of the Blog Exchange, Alex may be found on Lady M's blog, Nupboard Central, peeking out through OS's eyes.
Click here to check out the other posts this month, and to get more info on the blog exchange.
This is so true, Lady M. Sometimes they don't quite get the context right. Sometimes I ask OS, "What story would you like?" and he replies "You need to be polite Daddy. Say please!" Hmmm..."What story would you like please?" I don't see that happening.
I had a bit of de ja vu reading your entry! My little one tells me to be careful all the time. He repeats it from me because I'm always telling him to watch where he's going and to be careful!
Well don't get defensive, maybe there were bogers but we won't judge you.
Our daughter has been singing Prince's Let's Go Crazy, then getting down dramatically (recall the lyrics). Guess we've been watching the TiVo'd superbowl half-time show a bit much.
We often hear about a mother's drive to protect and defend her children at all costs, but rarely does anyone mention the paternal instinct (among humans, anyway) to do the same.
My father usually left me to fend for myself - not because he didn't care about my safety or well-being, but because he believed I could handle whatever challenges came my way. Sometimes I misinterpreted his hands-off approach as not caring, but most of the time, I understood that his intent was to foster my independence.
Even so, I recall a few occasions - once as a child, once as a teen, and once as an adult - where he came to my defense in such a way that I was amazed.
Growing up, we rarely took vacations by plane. Instead, we drove (in a then-luxurious Lincoln Continental, back in the days when seatbelts were not mandatory and kids could lie down in the backseat or wedge themselves between the front seat and the back seat) to Cape Cod, to upstate New York, to the DC metro area. And as an act of both mercy and self-preservation, my parents always made sure that we stayed at hotels that had pools (which wasn't necessarily a standard amenity back in the 1980s).
Upon arriving at one hotel on one particular trip, we discovered that the pool was closed already. And while my brother and I were still happy to look forward to Happy Meals and cable TV, my father was livid. He lit into the manager on duty as we stood next to him and gaped. I don't remember if we got to go swimming or not; I just remember that my daddy was ready to tear that man a new you-know-what for depriving his kids of swim time.
As a pre-teen and teen, I took harp lessons and played in an ensemble. My teacher was a single woman in her forties, a survivor of Hodgkin's, and not exactly the most approachable person I'd ever met. Put bluntly, she scared the living daylights out of me. I once lost one of her music books while at a contest, and I still remember the utter dread I felt at the prospect of confessing my carelessness. She liked adults, not kids.
For years, my father observed how I quaked when I was around her, and at some point - provoked by what, I don't know - he laid into her. I don't know exactly what he said, but it absolutely took her down a peg or two - something I'd never expected to see.
Finally, the most recent time he jumped to my defense was during the planning of Kyle's and my wedding. I don't really even want to bring up this topic, because more than anything I want it to be laid to rest once and for all, but it was the first time in a long time that I'd been present to hear him defend me. Unfortunately, he was defending me to my future father-in-law, dropping more F-bombs than I'd ever heard him use before, and all I could think about was how in the world these two men could possibly stand to be in the same room together only a month or so later.
(They did. And it hasn't happened again since. Which is fine. As long as nobody brings up this topic ever AGAIN.)
Fathers notoriously get the shaft where it comes to the world's perception of how they feel about their kids. Sure, they love them - but rarely do they get credit for defending them just as vehemently (if not more so) than mothers do.
This Father's Day, recall the times that your father really and truly went to bat for you. And then tell him thank you for loving you so much.
This is a post written by my Blog Exchange partner for this month, Julie from mothergoosemouse. The assignment this month was to share a post about Dads/Fathers. You can find me over at her blog writing about the Big Giraffe. Please make Julie feel welcome.
In addition to authoring mothergoosemouse, Julie is mother to one little girl who is destined to become a lawyer, mother to another little girl who speaks her own language when she isn't screaming loud enough to shatter glass, and wife to a man who can drink his weight in Natty Light. All she really wants in life is a clean kitchen floor.
You haven't seen devotion until you hand your dad his grandchild. My father goes beyond devotion with my kids. Particularly my daughter. She walks on water in his eyes.
It's so true! I often think that society places so much emphasis on mother-child bonds (which are obviously important) that we almost deny how important father-child bonds are in helping kids develop. Kids need strong adults who love them, regardless of gender!
oh, it's so true. i remember some times when my dad did that for me, and it always surprised me. i can't thank him the way i'd like to, but it's nice to remember him fondly. :)
This post is from Summer Minor as part of this month's Blog Exchange. Please make her feel welcome.
Being a mother is a scary place to be at times. It seems like everything that used to pass me by is now lurking around full of hidden dangers, ready to jump out at any moment and strike my children. Could they choke, have an allergic reaction, fall off, break something, or worse? The list seems to go on and on and I find myself fighting to keep my head above the water of the "mommy paranoia" that seeks to make me afraid of microwaving leftovers in a plastic dish. And cancer, don't forget that everything causes cancer these days.
I would love to be able to live in a world where I don't have to live in fear of the fifty billion things out there that could kill my children. To eat a salad without thinking about all the pesticides and chemicals sprayed all over it. To eat a snack without checking the label for transfat, preservatives, and artificial dyes. A simpler way of life, the kind that you find in black and white television shows late at night. Where they knew the farmer personally who grew their food, and a little league game didn't involve buying $50 shoes and special team uniforms. when the best toy ever was the old stick you picked up on the side of the road and became everything from a magic wand to a ray gun. Those were the days...
Often I find myself in awe over the things that I worry over so much now. Not the worry itself, but how motherhood has made me so protective. As I watch them playing I can't help but feel such a deep love for them that I want to give them the best life that I can give. Who knew that the girl who used to eat fast food burgers every day would now be growing her own vegetables and serving meatless meals? How was I to know that the girl who swore that spanking solved everything would be a parent who hates spanking? Not even I could have guessed that motherhood would have made me into such a different person that I used to be.
Even my own partner in all of this can only shake his head as I read the labels at the store, hang the cloth diapers out on the line, and bury my nose in the stack of books on the table covering everything from vaccines to lead paint. He often tells me that I'm afraid of everything and that I can't keep the boys in a bubble. Logically I know that, but I can't stop from wincing a little when I see the baby pick a handful of grass and shove it into his mouth. Or when the preschooler comes home from grandma's house full of soda and hotdogs. I don't want to live my life in a bubble, I just want a life less frightening.
Summer Minor is not only the guest writer today, she is also a stay at home mom of two young boys, a freelance writer, and more than a little sleep deprived. While I'm writing here, you can find Alex over at my blog Wired For Noise. Feel free to stop by and see what she has to say there. And don't forget to click here to check out the other posts this month, and to get more info on the blog exchange.
Very nice post, and I think that everyone can agree with how you feel about all the environmental toxins we have today. I have to point out, though, that things were never really simpler. The 1950s is exactly when the neighborhood farmer started pumping the produce with all that junk and suddenly packaged foods were considered the best because people believed that science was better than nature. And before that, there frequently wasn't enough affordable food because crops were subject to the whims of nature. The truth is that moms throughout history have always had to battle to protect their kids. Things are no better or worse today, just different. And that goes for future parents, too.
it is all very worrying - and regardless of any decision, there's always the worry that we could have gone the other way... as if motherhood wasn't busy enough!
There is so much to fear in the world around us and in the risks we take in our own decisions. Yet at the same time, there is so much hope and promise in all that we do. Thank you for sharing your thoughts on FFAFP and thank you for making me think. I enjoyed your visit. I also appreciate how welcome you and your readers made me feel on Wired for Noise.
I would just like to say thank you to Kim for being my blog exchange partner this month. It was a pleasure to have you on Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting, and I really enjoyed your post! Also,thank you to whoever voted me as Best of the Blog Exchange!
This is a post written by my Blog Exchange partner for this month, Kim, from In Full Bloom. The assignment this month was to share your favorite post from your blog archives. This piece was originally posted on June 12, 2006. You can find me over at her place sharing my all time favorite post.
If you would like to see the favorites of others, or are interested in participating in the blog exchange, then click here.
Someone once said that a teacher’s favorite months are June, July and August. I won’t lie, they are certainly a welcome respite for a first grade teacher after a school year filled with all the hard work that goes into trying to make learning fun and meaningful for six year olds.
As much as I love what I do, I was relishing the thought of having time just for myself and for my family within reach, which is a very rare occurrence between the months of September and May. Like the duties of a mother, a teacher’s job is never done, even once June rolls around. And as I tried to clean up the classroom I know as my second home, I wondered how I would ever finish all the items on the checklist buried somewhere beneath the plan book, number two pencils, and faculty meeting minutes littering my desk.
As if the mere list were not enough, I also had the added obstacle of two young children bright with the excitement of a summer full of possibilities who had absolutely no interest or desire to spend any more time at school when the sun’s warm rays beckoned them to be outdoors. Unfortunately they have been born to a workaholic teacher for a mom who lives by the “work before play” philosophy. A veritable curse to say the least.
Being four and ten, they are too young to stay home alone and had come to school with me to “help.” Although I can usually count on my ten year old to lend a truly helpful hand, I know from experience that “help” from the four year old is sometimes actually exactly the opposite of that. I was already making a little mental list of things for him to “help” me with.
However, as quickly as I was packing away the pattern blocks and construction paper, they were equally as quickly being unpacked by the four year old as entertainment for the only children left in this room. I sighed as I realized this was a losing battle and set about accomplishing what I could. Pattern blocks and paper alone don’t hold a summertime child’s attention very long though and soon the sound of a normal brother and sister’s bickering began.
Allison being ten and Trent, four, there are the usual complaints. Allison complains that Trent is into her stuff. Trent complains that Allison won’t share. Then they both complain that they are bored. It is not often that they play together, usually if forced, or if a third party is involved, though I ply them with requests to enjoy each other almost daily. I decided that I was not the entertainment director for the day and they would have to figure it out for themselves.
A little while passed and suddenly it was quiet. Eerily quiet. I looked up from the student files I was sorting to see the two of them huddled on the floor. Together. Between them was the rather large box of Legos that I keep for rainy day free time. Bright pieces of colorful plastic squares and rectangles were strewn on the floor around them as tiny masterpieces were forming before my eyes. Little fingers joined with bigger ones to create, imagine, cooperate….it was magical.
Personally I have never been able to appreciate Legos the way that my students do. For children who learn best by using manipulatives they are a charm. But that day as I watched a box of little bricks build a relationship between the world of my big kid and the world of my little kid, I knew I would never see those blocks the same way again.
The magic of the Legos had afforded me the luxury of a little peace, but the joy of seeing my children doing something together….that was the best magic I had ever seen.
That's one of the best parts of having more than one child (and definitely the best part about legos - makes the stepping on them and sucking them up in the vacuum cleaner worth it).
I look forward to magic moments like that as my younger son gets older. Right now I only see glimpses since there's such an obvious difference in their ability (3 years vs. 9 months) but I am amazed when they do seem to amuse each other even if it's just for a short period of time. Thanks for sharing your post on my blog!
Come to My Garden Nestled in the hill There I’ll keep you safe beside me Come to My Garden Rest there in my Arms There I’ll see you safely grown And on your way Stay there in my garden Where Love grows free and wild Come to My Garden Come sweet Child
(child) Lift me up and lead me to the garden Where Love grows free and wild Where I’ll find you and I’ll find you love me too.
This is the song I love to sing to my children when I’m rocking them to sleep at night. I think the imagery is so sweet. I can just picture this mother taking her child to this garden to protect him. It comes from the musical The Secret Garden.
My son loves, “The Garden Song,” as he calls it, and asks for it when he’s really tired. It’s the only thing that will put him to sleep. Lol. Maybe my singing is that boring.
I love to rock my children to sleep at night and just protect them. I enjoy that time just before they go to sleep and just when they wake up. They are so sweet. Plus, it’s the only time my 3-year-old will let me cuddle him anymore.
This post was written as part of this month's Blog Exchange by Kendra over at Dramatized Reality. She has a 3-year-old son and a 6-month-old daughter. When she’s not keeping busy with her children, she likes to play the piano, scrapbook, read and sew.
Alex Elliot's blog exchange post this month may be found on Dramatized Reality. Click here to check out the other posts this month, and to get more info on the blog exchange.
I would like to thank Cori from SAHMbles for "SAHMling" on my site as Kari Bradshaw from Sex in the City as part of this month's Blog Exchange. I really enjoyed you being here, and it was a pleasure to share my "SAHMbles" with your audience.
Okay so where did I leave off? Yes that’s right we had just returned home from Europe and I was in a state of euphoria. My dreams were all coming true, finally, finally he had agreed to commit. For years we had been in and out of each other lives, we survived heartbreak, break-ups, affairs and just when I thought it was over for good, my knight returned. I always knew in my heart of hearts that he was the one for me, we were just so … so good together and the sex, ah yes the sex. Everything was working out the way I always hoped it would, he was the man of my dreams, successful, handsome, smart, sexy. We were going to be an item, a couple. I might even meet his mother. OMG his mother!
Once back in the city we discussed putting my apartment on the market and moving in together. My head was filled with wedding plans. Who would I wear? Uh, ooohhh Vera Wang, wait maybe Dior or Chanel, no, no Monique yes that’s it Monique Lhuillier. Forgive me I sound so wrapped up in material things. What really matters, what’s really important is that after so long we are together, he always made me feel so safe, so secure. When we were together nothing else mattered.
Then one evening everything fell apart. We met for dinner and he told me she was back, his ex-wife. She had called him and he was confused, uncertain about his feelings for her, for me and he didn’t want to hurt me, not again. Not AGAIN! What did he mean not again? It was already again. He looked so sad, lost I couldn’t help myself I wanted to reach out and comfort him. What was the matter with me?
That was it. That was the end; it was over in one heartbeat he was gone, forever. Thank God for girlfriends, Martinis and designer shoes, the next year was hell on earth but they helped pull me through.
One fateful day my editor introduced me to her nephew Alex, he was a nice guy, cute, successful, funny and he so reminded me of him. They looked so alike, I was curious I just had to find out … We fell in love. It wasn’t that kind of can’t-live-without-you kind of love, it was a comfortable love. It wasn’t a ridiculous and all consuming kind of love, it was a safe love. Did we have the same chemistry? Um no. Was the sex OMG to die for kind of sex. No, it wasn’t. It was a warm, soft place, a secure place, a sanctuary of commitment, a place I could stay. So 5 years later I find myself somewhere I never thought I’d be, home in the burbs, yes the burbs, the city far behind me, my Fendi bags and Jimmy Choo’s don’t get much action these days, neither do I for that matter, but the life that grows inside me fulfills me in ways I never thought possible. The hopes and dreams in this little round ball that has stretched my tummy to the max have expanded my soul and the possibilities seem infinite. What will the future hold for us? I’m not sure but a good friend of mine once said:
“Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them, what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course, we wouldn't fall in love, or have babies, or be who we are. After all, seasons change. So do cities. People come into your life and people go. But it's comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart.”
My name is Cori. I am a full-time stay-at-home mom of two little boys, Matt almost 3 and Cameron 17 months. While I am posting here as part of this month's blog exchange, Alex Elliot is sharing her thoughts on my blog SAHMbles ... Click here to check out the other posts this month, and to get more info on the blog exchange.
Yup, yup, yup, you guessed it. Carrie Bradshaw. Whew, what a relief I was so nervous this being my first Blog Exchange and to think I never watched the show. :)
I am very excited to say that tomorrow I will be participating in the blog exchange again. I will be exchanging blogs with SAHMbles. The theme for this month is to pick a famous person and write in their style. You'll have to guess who we are. Please visit me over at SAHMbles.
The topic is so limiting and so open at the same time.
In becoming a mother I went through some of the most incredible changes someone my age can go through. At nineteen years old, I was blessed with this tiny little person whose entire existence depended entirely on me. While other girls my age were finishing up there freshmen years of college (which I was doing too) and drinking and partying and clubbing, I was getting up every two hours to feed my precious Little Prince.
My entire outlook had to change. Suddenly my life was not my own. In every decision and plan I made, I had to consider Little Prince. Dinner with the girls required the almost desperate hunt for a trustworthy competent baby sitter. Alone time with Daddy the Boyfriend had to be strategically maneuvered according to Little Princes bed time. Even cleaning the house had to be arranged around the time Little Prince napped and which activities woke him up.
But that wasn’t even the hard part. The hardest, and I know this sounds incrediably vain, but they were the changes to my body. I could handle the 8 feedings a night, and the increasingly sparse nights out with the girls. But at nineteen years old, I went from a size four with glowing skin and perky little breasts to a size 10 with strectch marks and pancake breasts. Where is fairness in that? And don’t give me that life isn’t fair crap… I want my perky boobs. But such is life
And as the new year gets increasingly closer I have to wonder what changes am I in for this year. Little Prince is already growing so fast, He only wants to cuddle and be held when he sleepy. And he so big and moving everywhere and is getting teeth and saying dada and waving bye bye. He’s not even 9 months old and I already miss my tiny little newborn. But it’s hard not to be impressed and amazed by his triumphs.
But no matter what changes arrive, I know I can handle them. I mean hell, the worst has already happened, my breasts look like pancakes, so no worries.
Hi, I’m Momma the Magnificant visiting over here at Formula Fed and Flexible Parenting, If you’d like to find Alex, she’s at my place, Momma the Magnificant.
Click here to check out the other posts this month, and to get more info on the blog exchange.
I remember the body changes as if it were yesterday. I was never thin to begin with, but now I look like my frumpy mother and I hate it. This momma is chaning her diet this year. It's time to be a hot mom.
Great post. It's so nice to see what other moms think about change.
You're making me nervous ladies, because I'm still breastfeeding. Now I may never stop! I already have the tummy going, I don't know if I can take the boobs, too!
This is a nice post. Nice in a way that at such a young age you are already wise beyond your years, because when I was 19 I was that clubbing and partying girl you speak of and had no idea what sacrifice really meant.
It's funny because I'm much healthier now than before I got pregnant, but I'm much heavier. I seem to be good at maintaining the weight, but not so great at losing it. I with Suzanne on the breast reduction. I had it at 19 because of my giant old lady boobs.
I think most of us would like to be more environmentally aware - as long as we can fit it in between soccer practices, dance lessons, homework, careers, "me-time," relationships, oh, and eating and sleeping.
I've got a solution! It's called Campaign Earth and it's got lots of easy to read information about global warming and renewable energy - two things we all need to learn more about - and it provides real-life solutions for how you and I, as ordinary individuals without access to wealth or politicians, can help change the destructive course our Earth is currently on.
My favorite part of the website is the Monthly Challenge where Campaign Earth puts forth a challenge that isn't difficult to complete, but can have great impact on the health of the environment. Background information is provided about why the month's challenge is important and it also provides the astounding result that will occur if we choose to accept the task.
Here is this month's challenge. I hope you give it a try. After all, what have you got to lose?
From the Campaign Earth website Lessen the junk mail and catalogs coming to your house!
Did you know that more than 17 billion catalogs were distributed in the United States in 2001 - that's more than sixty-four for every man, woman, and child. Not surprisingly, this requires a lot of paper, the fourth most energy-intensive of all manufacturing industries and one of the most polluting. The average American uses over 700 pounds of paper per year. The good news is we've got some simple steps for you to take to greatly reduce that number.
If we successfully reduced the number of catalogs produced in this country by 30% we would:
preserve 16.6 billion gallons of water each year = the amount of water used by 172,333 households.*
conserve over 100 barrels of oil.
keep 3.5 million tons of CO2 out of the atmosphere = the amount of CO2 produced by 570,000 cars driven 200 miles/ week annually.
Listed below are three actions you can take to lessen the mail you receive. Take a look at the list and do what you can. Remember, every action counts.
Stop Those Unwanted Catalogs! Now, with the internet, we can do most of our mail order shopping online. Stack your unwanted catalogs in a pile and spend ten minutes a week calling to request that your name be removed from their mailing list.
Receive Less Junk Mail! Send a short letter to: The Direct Marketing Association, Mail Preference Service P.O. Box 9008 Farmingdale, NY 11735-9008. List your name, in all its infinite variations, and request that all of these names be removed from their national database. This removal lasts five years, so keep this address handy. For more information contact the DMA at 212-768-7277.
Keep Your Catalogs and Magazines out of the Landfill! Many municipalities don't accept catalogs as part of their recycling program so find a second home for them. Keep them out of the landfill by dropping them off at a local hospital, assisted living home, senior residence facility or school (they use them for art classes and other projects). It's the next best thing.
Nancy is a writer and married mother of two young children and blogs about everything from the personal to the political over at Just Thinking . . . Feel free to drop by and weigh in.
Nancy, Thanks for the tips! The junk mail and catalogs become so overwhelming that they are a "local" issue in terms of their ability to disrupt our own lifestyles as well as a "global" issue in terms of environmental impact. -J
This is great information. I've tried and failed to have the spam catologs that multiply in my mailbox stopped in the past but it doesn't work. It seems every time you use your credit card online you get even more of the little suckers. I'll try this.
There are so many days that every single thing in my mailbox goes directly into the recycling bin. This is a great reminder to focus a little more on the "reduce" part of "reduce, reuse, recycle."
This was actually posted on Nov. 1 (the draft was done on October 31st)
As a first time mom, I was particularly concerned about doing everything “right” with my newborn son: from feeding to sleeping, appropriate visual and tactile stimulation to soothing auditory input. Like many first time mothers, I had worried about prenatal vitamins, exercise, and eating healthfully during pregnancy.
Of course I was going to select a moving company with equal concern!
Except I selected you. Clearly I was sleep-deprived, delusional, and desperate. I should have been tipped off by an image your name suggests: ruthless scalping.
Less than two weeks after I gave birth, I learned our newly expanded family of three would be moving across the country.
I made the difficult choice to leave my PhD program in search of more fulfilling calling as a stay-at-home-and-confused-mom. I wanted to be closer to my family. I knew as much as I loved New York City, it wasn’t a place in which we could afford to raise our family, particularly if I was turning my back on scientific research and the years of education that had prepared me for a career I didn’t want.
When Husband got the job offer in California, I was both relieved and terrified. How could we possibly have the energy and resources to move across the country when we weren’t awake enough to figure out which end of the baby to diaper?
When Carlene came to do the estimate, I didn’t realize that perhaps her name should have been “Careen,” as in “careening into debt.” Her estimate seemed reasonable. She looked around the apartment, thoroughly I thought.
She saw our piles of books, and all the baby gear. She recommended that since there was a minimum weight we could go ahead and move the sofa that we weren’t sure we wanted to keep. “You don’t have much stuff. You can move it all and decide what to keep later,” she assured us. She was friendly and sounded competent.
The next few weeks were hell. The boxes we ordered from you were a day late, as was the bubble wrap. We used up the supplies immediately. Careen’s estimate was off. We had to purchase more, delaying our packing. Husband and I packed when we weren’t working or attending to our newborn. We didn’t sleep.
It was the most stressful time of my life. I was in pain from the vacuum-extraction birth, episiotomy, and extensive tearing. My baby cried, I was having nursing troubles, and I was overcome with fear about making such a big change in our lives. I had to squeak out a laugh when my OB told me not to exert myself physically. He applauded that I was already below my pre-pregnancy weight: I wonder how that happened?
When moving day arrived, I was relieved. Your men would take our precious belongings and our journey would nearly be complete. The other end would be easy: unpacking didn’t have a deadline.
Instead, our pilgrimage was just beginning.
Your company was to move us on Saturday. We were flying out Sunday evening. On Saturday late morning, a man arrived. One man.
“You have too much stuff for me to move alone,” he exclaimed. “And our truck is too big to park on your street.”
He left, shrugging his shoulders, mumbling that there was no way he’d do the job by himself, “I’d break my back.”
Husband called your company. Certainly Careen had explained that we lived on a narrow street. Certainly your company knows the layout of New York City. Certainly Careen’s estimate would have provided information about the number of men it would take to move our belongings in a timely fashion.
Why else would there have been an estimate if not to prepare appropriately for moving day? We did our part, but you didn’t do yours.
We had plane tickets for Sunday night. We no longer had a home after Sunday.
You had us bound with your hatchet in hand, ready to strike at our wallet.
More men, sure! But you’ll have to pay them overtime. This is a last minute request and it is on the weekend. To accommodate your narrow street, you’ll need to pay for a shuttle truck. Of course, since you didn’t reserve a shuttle truck, there are none available today…
We had no choice. We had to agree to the extra charges and to the last minute move the morning of the day we were to fly away. We had no recourse.
That next morning was a blur. The men arrived and set into motion a complex handing-off system. Packages were recorded; furniture was transferred into the truck. There was no shuttle truck; the large truck was positioned around the block and the workmen shuttled our belongings on foot.
Were we paying for a shuttle truck anyway? How many extra men were we paying overtime?
Husband ran to the ATM to get enough tips for everyone involved. Smiles all around as the leader asked me to sign off on the manifesto. The document was a bunch of scribbled lines with numbers stuck to them. I had been watching the boxes leave, the stickers placed, but there was no way to know if every box was recorded. I signed.
The flurry was over. We thought our nightmare was over. We were alone in an empty apartment, ready to fly out later that day.
Once in California, we awaited our possessions. The same glitches happened again: Your street has a low-hanging electrical wire, you’ll need to purchase a shuttle truck. We’ll have to delay move-in day to set up that extra truck. Our men need extra compensation for going up the stairs to your condo.
But we’ve seen moving vans on our street! The wire doesn’t hang that low! No Ma’am, we need to be safe, not sorry. Let’s scalp your wallet once more.
Then the next day: Oh, I see you purchased a shuttle truck, but we don’t really need it! We can just use our dolly to move the boxes from the large truck into your condo. It isn’t that far away.
Slightly more awake this time, I watched carefully as our belongings entered: Where is our DVD player, where is my computer?
Are you certain you packed a computer? Everything that was on the manifesto is here right now, except for the DVD player.
Yes, I am certain. (That computer photo had our baby announcements, my Master's thesis, and our wedding photos on it.)
Well, the computer wasn’t on the manifesto. The DVD player is below your deductible.
Yes, funny how that happened.
Oh, and your belongings were too heavy. You’ve incurred extra charges for weight over your allotted amount.
Of course. Had we known, we would have left the sofa behind. Careen was wrong.
Did you think that since we lived on the Upper East Side that we could afford to replace my computer (with monitor, keyboard, and speakers) and DVD player? Did you assume that we were flush with cash, and could therefore pay for all these “extra” men and “extra” trucks and other such things that should have been part of the original estimate?
Instead, we were a family that could no longer afford to live on the Upper East. Our apartment was heavily subsidized by the graduate program for which I was no longer enrolled. We were moving because we didn’t have a dime to spare. Instead of wealthy jet-setters, we were tired and stressed brand-new parents, nervous that our packages and furniture wouldn’t be moved in time for us to fly out.
Careen made a big mistake. Her estimate was wrong. Your original mover who arrived alone was careless to simply leave. The flurry of workers who showed up the next day are probably enjoying watching DVDs and using my computer, smoking Cubans they purchased with their overtime pay and our generous tips.
You took advantage of a sleep-deprived family that wanted to move to find a better life. Weren’t those on the Mayflower searching for a better life?
You failed my family. Yes, many of our belongings were moved, but our spirit was broken.
Karianna’s Lesson Learned: Avoid moving across the country right after giving birth, and don’t use Mayflower Movers!
The link should be: http://www.karianna.us/blog/archives/2006/11/an_open_letter_to_the_united_s.html
I had attempted to set up the link prior to publishing the post and both got screwed up: so, her post was late in being published and the link from here to her letter wasn't accurate.
I cannot agree more. I HATE Mayflower. They charged me $7,000 for a move from an apartment that was five miles from the house we bought. Liars and Cheats would be a better name for them.
So funny! That is SO New York City. Every moving company in that city is ready to rip you off. I used to live in NYC and moved 3 times into, within, and out of the city, and can't say it was ever a pleasant or "cheap" experience. The only company that ended up being somewhat fair was Moishe's.
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.
I love Bare Minereals. It is the best makeup I have ever worn.
Happy New Year!