Homebody

My husband and I both like to get up and go. We have never sat around the house in our pajamas on the weekends. We both have too many things we want to do and see. Especially since having kids and being limited to nap and bedtimes we feel and even bigger pull to get our days going on the weekends. Lately though I am always asking myself why I am so tired and why our schedules are so full. I have been craving just chilling at home. Except I am not really sure how to do it. I am really out of practice.

 Checking errands off your to do list shouldn't mean you are accomplished. There is this race daily to do everything you can humanly possibly get done in one day, resulting in utter exhaustion. I wonder why I am so tired by the end of the day. Sure, I have small kids who get up early, but I am also exercising, reading the news, trying to make healthy food, put together some decent outfits and get out the door all by 8 am. By the time I get to my alone time I typically have just under two hours to check an errand off my list. It not exactly carefree. First I pick up my little one and then a few hours after that I pick up the other one. When we all finally get home it's the homework and dinner club. Just to add a bit more chaos to the mix every few days we have some extra curricular activity to attend to as well. I am beginning to feel like the idea of balance in life is a myth.

I strive to have my life be calmer, less complicated, and less stressful, but there is a fine line between simpler and boring. I have a friend who comes home with her kids everyday after school. No play dates, no activities, they do homework maybe watch some tv eat dinner and go to bed. It works for them. Then I have friends whose kids are in competitive sports or dance, that go two days a week and one day on the weekend. They eat dinner on the fly and I guess do homework before bed. We are somewhere in the middle and there are days where that even feels too much. 

   When I plan out my day, I forget to account for all the distractions. From the minute I wake up I think I have a set amount of time but then a text comes in, or I have to forward an email to my daughters classroom, or my child doesn't want to wear the shoes Ive already tied on. In this day of having cell phones be the biggest addiction I have ever had, I have a love hate relationship with technology.  I think our kids probably hate seeing them in our hands all the time too. I read that using our phones is nit unlike smoking was in the 60's. Just like people learned that smoking was bad for them then we know that using our cell phones can be not only dangerous to talk on near our heads but also a complete distraction from the people closest from us. I read "Hands Free Parenting" and loved the message but I can't put my phone down just like everyone else.  I'm hooked. "Stop The Insanity"

As I sit here and write this, I have stopped so many times due to technological interruptions. I try to over compensate my meditating everyday, but something about this seems so ironic. So I have made a pledge to myself just to be a bit more mindful about being chill. Staying home a little bit more at a time. Taking down time. Playing with my kids, and just being present. I am really enjoying my kids right now. Seven and three are pretty sweet ages. I want to soak them in, with minimal beeps and buzzes to pull me away. Yesterday I took an afternoon walk in the rain with my boy. He was so excited to wear his rain boots. I purposely left the phone at home. It felt good to be free of it, and anyway the rain could have gotten it wet. Then what?

Student Of The Month

My daughter received the Student of the Month award! I am proud of her and excited that she is recognized for her work at school. She wanted this award last month, the first month at school, but instead her friend deservingly got it. Both girls, are the "student of the month" type. They are extreamly well behaved, studious, focused, quiet in class, and smart. It was even predictable that the two of them would be the first to get this award at the start of school. Last year, when they were in different classrooms they both stood next to each other with the award during the first school assembely.

Last year when I was new to the school and recieved a note home that she would be recieving this award, I was also excited for her. I quickly realized though that only 9 kids per year in each class would be rewarded with this. We had come from a school before that had an assembley every week and gave out two principal awards per class per week. By the end of that year everyone had got one at least once, or in my daughters case three times.

I am not sure every kid should always be a winner, but rewards systems are flawed. When my daughter started preschool there was a chart with red, yellow, and green on it. Each kid had their names on clothes pins and if they got a warning they moved to yellow, if they continued to misbehave they got a red. I hated this system. Especially the day that I came to school and found my own child's name on red. She didn't even get a warning they had said, because she loved to climb and she had climbed up the fence that leads out of the play area. She had also influenced her friend to do the same. That was the first and last red she ever got in preschool, and I didn't find it misbehaving as they did. I was impressed at her climbing skills, but reminded her that it wasn't allowed, nor was it safe. I was happy to learn though that a year later the preschool replaced the chart with a marble system for when kids did things well, as opposed to pointing out what they did wrong all the time.

I know that as adults we earn rewards all the time for doing things the "right" way. We also get penalized when we do things wrong as well. There are plenty of incentives for good behaviour for grown ups, so I know the lessons to be learned from rewards are not all bad. That being said though, there are a lot of people in the middle who just don't get recognized. The really obedient, but shy child who never raises their hand in class might not ever get to be student of the month. Or the enthusiastic, bright child who is so excited to learn that he can't stop talking. Or that child who has behavior issues that has therapy practically everyday, or worse that child with behavior issues who has no help at all. These kids aren't likely to be student of the month either.

I don't think getting an award like this is life changing, or that important in the grand scheme of a child's life, but for those kids so rarely recognized it can make a huge difference. Think about those kids who are given up on so quickly in their education because of misbehavior. I know that there are amazing teachers out there who say that no matter how challenging it is they can find something wonderful in each child. If that something wonderful was nourished and encouraged all year than ever child would deserve an award.

The day my daughter did not the award and it went to her friend instead, she sat down next to me and told me that her friend was student of the month. I tried to stay as neutral as possible not sure where her emotions were headed. I said "Oh, that's nice, how do you feel about it?" She said she was proud for her. The next thing I heard was my daughter sniffling. When I looked at her she asked through tears, why she didn't get the award. I reminded her that she had run out of class after me a few times in the first month of school and maybe that is why she didn't get it. She immediately stopped crying and said "Oh, right."  For her putting her best foot forward is so important, it also comes very naturally to her. I was happy to see though that the award ceremony had some kids called up who were not the typical "student of the month" kids. Including one of my daughters close friends who is now in another class. He talks a lot but is indeed a passionate, enthusiastic, caring, and sensitive student. I was grateful that he got an award. When he got his award last month I was front and center cheering him on with his mom. He was so shocked and excited that it had me almost believing in this award. Almost! That being said, I am proud that my daughter for continuing her diligence, hard work  and her new ability to stay in her classroom after I say goodbye to her at school.  That alone deserves recognition!

Disconcerting News

My pregnancy was becoming more real to me with each day. We had seen the heartbeat at two visits, we saw the shape of the baby's body starting to form, we even got to take home some ultrasound photos. With each week though my vomiting got more severe. I started the medicine pump shortly after my 9 week check up.  It seemed to help within a day or so. It didn't take away all of the discomfort but I felt more like I had mild motion sickness which was welcomed.  I started to feel better. The medication stopped the vomiting...it also likely stopped the pregnancy.

When I went in for my twelve week check up, my husband and I joked about what color the baby's eyes might be, but I was distracted. Every appointment I had when I was pregnant was nerve-racking. I would hold my breath until I saw the heartbeat and heard everything was growing normally. When our doctor on this visit walked in and asked how we were, I actually responded by saying, “Nervous." He preceded carefully and began the ultrasound. His first word out of his mouth was "unfortunately" and the rest of whatever he said sounded like a slow motion, dizzying mess of words. I just remember my husband's arm around me, and that I grabbed my doctor's hand, as if to plead with him to give me different news. The next thing I did was to take off the port and pull out the needle attached to me. I didn't need this pump anymore. I hated wearing it, and so I wouldn't keep it attached to me one second more than I needed to. With a little time and a lot of questions, I learned that our baby's heart stopped beating just a few short days after the pump going in. Needing something to blame I gave all responsibility of this loss to the medication. It just seemed to obvious.

I had to have a D&C in the hospital because the fetus was too big to have the procedure in my doctor's office. This allowed me to also have a pathology report done on the baby. I learned that the baby was missing a chromosome and that even if it survived it would have been severely learning disabled and physically stunted. I looked at my healthy daughter and thought of how many miracles have to line up to create the healthy cells that result in a healthy baby. I was grateful that I made her and she was okay. My doctor said it was unlikely the medicine hurt the baby, and that it would be hard to prove anything if it did. I still wondered though. I researched some stories online and found one or two, but not many. After some time though, I set my sights on getting pregnant again. I wanted to move on, I wanted a baby, I wanted to get pregnant, and this time I would endure any illness without medication.

Once again I began getting sick, losing weight, and became dehydrated. Set on not taking Zofran, I agreed to go to my doctor's office to receive a fluids IV twice a week. My pregnancy wasn't fun, and it wasn't pretty — but I survived it. I also got a healthy seven pound baby boy, so with that I happily put pregnancy behind me. Forever. I never again thought about Zofran, because I didn't want to. It does re-open a wound though, to know that the medication could have indeed cost us a baby. Upon finding more out about a class action case against the manufacturers of Zofran, I decided not to participate in the law suit. I have everyone who I was meant to have in my family. Placing blame will not bring a baby back. I don't want a settlement check. I have my family now and I am more than content with that. I will however make it my mission to ensure that I speak out against taking Zofran while pregnant. It is still being prescribed to pregnant women, and I know well the desperation to feel better, but this is not a solution.  I don't know of any other ways to get through a rough pregnancy, but there is a huge prize at the end and it's worth waiting for.

My Time At the Y

A few months ago I wrote about some wisdom my husband had gleaned from a yoga class at the local Y. I finally had some time to take a class on my own, since my boy goes to preschool there for a few hours. I couldn't fit in a yoga class that worked with my schedule, so last week I tried water fitness. I have done this in other places before, so I knew I was likely to be the youngest participant. But I had no idea what a wild class I was stepping into. Like anything else one tries for the first time, I spent half of the time trying to figure out if I liked it. Then I assessed if it is a good fit for my level of fitness, and then once those two things were decided, I commited to giving it a full chance. This class threw me though. I had such conflicting responses to whether I liked it, or if it was good for me.

Indeed I was the youngest person in the pool. Other than the obvious fact that water aerobics is not hard on your joints, I can't figure out why it mostly appeals to older people. This particular class was no joke. If done correctly this was an intense workout. We were making some waves (at least a few of us were). There were some delicate grandmotherly ladies in the pool barely making but a ripple, but the charisma around them made up for it. The diversity in this part of town is one of the things I love about it. Old, young, black, white, rich, poor, and fit and not -- it was all in the pool that day. Well, except for the young. They come to class after the seniors for parent and me swim, which up until a month ago is where you would find me in the pool. This class is a whole other world from that. Although I was welcomed by a grandma that used to take her grandchild to that class with me, she was the only familiar face in the pool.

I got a lot of funny looks by my classmates. One gentleman joked that I should stop being so energetic. I told him I would tone it down, and he said "Yes please, like the rest of us." Another woman told me that I was too skinny to be in the class. I guess she didn't hear the news that working out isn't just for weight loss anymore. A woman nearby the grandmother that I knew asked her if I were her daughter.  Someone else asked me if I would be coming regularly. Everyone seemed so shocked by me being there. I found this most entertaining.

The instructor was so bizarre though. If anything would stop me from going back it would be him. He was so intense. He was more like a preacher than a teacher. I wouldn't mind this if his sermon was a bit more inspirational but his message was delivered in weird phrases. For example, he kept saying, "You don't need friends, you need your health." I beg to differ. You most definitely need both of those things. He also said if you are sitting at home lunching with your friends that won't help you stay out of the hospital. Now I know his audience might take more trips to the hospital but still, lunching friends is crucial to one's health. He had enthusiasm, I will give him that. He definitely had me working hard, while entertained, those two things alone is worth going back for another try.

At the end of the class the mom's with toddlers began trickling in by the pool. My new senior pals cooed at all the little ones. They used to do this with me when I came with my son, but no one seemed to recognize me without him by my side. It's interesting how much less attention you get when you are without a child. It can feel lonely and odd, without my boy around.  There is only a short amount of time and many ways I can spend it, so I have to pick and choose wisely.

Gifts We Give Our Kids

Getting in to the swing of the school year is uncomfortable for many of us. I still marvel at the kids who walk off to school on the first day with a new teacher, new kids and a new backpack then wave and walk away from their parent. That is not my child. Actually it might be my little one, but it is definitely not my girl.  She did better this year than I have ever seen her, but the first Monday back after the first weekend she was overcome with anxiety. She walked to her spot in the line and froze. She clenched my hand in hers and begged me to stay. When I said I couldn't she asked if I could get her at lunch, then maybe just 1:45, then she grabbed my hand harder and asked if she could please just come with me. She began crying then sobbing.

My first response is to try to calm her down, tell her it will be okay, and remind her that once she gets into the classroom she will have fun. We talk about the butterflies in her belly and that they can be there but they aren't allowed to take away her day of fun. She lets a few tears run down her face but does her best to walk into her room. I say goodbye and as I go towards the hall she screams after me out of her classroom. I hug her, calm her down, say goodbye, walk away again, and repeat. Twice she came after me, and it took so much strength on my part not to cry with her.

This is so familiar because this was me when I was a little girl. This is anxiety. It's genetic thus I have given her this gift and I wish I could take it back. I can't, so instead I am going to try my best to give her the tools that weren't given to me as a kid so that through her life she can feel like she can control her anxiety so that it doesn't control her. This is something I am still learning but as a team this family is starting to practice a bit more mindfulness, breathing and acceptance. It is absolutely a practice and not a magic trick but I am one determined mama. I can't take anxiety away from my child but I am without a doubt going to do my best to help her get through it. I want her to know she is not alone and that I totally understand. I want her to know I know how she feels because I still feel like that too sometimes. I have been reassuring her that worrying is an okay feeling, and that sometimes we worry about things that aren't real. I explained that it is up to us to figure out  the difference between what is really happening and what we are worried about happening. With her it is the moment she says goodbye she feels like the day will be so long and it will be too long before seeing me again. The reality is though when she gets into school she gets busy and time isn't an issue anymore when she is having fun.

We have had much better days since Monday. She is getting a little system down of putting her backpack on the hook then coming back to me for a hug before heading into her class. Little by little, day by day this will get easier. I went off to college in London for a semester, and when I got to my dorm I called my mom panicked and asked her if she could come if I needed her. She assured me she would, then later confided to me that of course she wouldn't have flown all the way to London. She said as soon as I heard she would come my breathing relaxed over the phone. She may not have gotten on a plane for me but learning what I needed to hear in that moment helped me tremendously. If I can pass that on to my daughter then Oh the places she will go...Just not overseas, thats too far.

American Girl

The doll that seems to be the "Cabbage Patch kid" for my daughters generation is an American Girl doll. No one is getting trampled outside Toys R Us like when I was a little girl, but little girls seems to want them just as badly. I was pleased when my daughter never seemed to notice them. She asked me once why there were older girls carrying dolls dressed identical to them, but it was more a "Isn't that weird, mama?," kind of question. That was before her friend from London (not American) came to visit us and brought her new American Girl doll. Since this little girl is my daughter's best friend, the doll suddenly got my daughter's attention.

The American Girl company was started by Pleasant Rowland, a former school teacher who wanted to create a line of dolls that represented American history. She started a small catalog-only business that was family owned. I read that she vowed to keep it that way as to keep it high quality and authentic.  Each doll came with a book that told the story of a girls role in that time period. The 18-inch doll was a success and history lessons were now available in a package that girls were excited about. After twelve years though, Pleasant Rowland sold her company. I guess vows get broken when Mattel offers to pay you $700 million dollars.

What was lost in that business deal was much more than a little catalog company. Little by little, the dolls gradually lost the historical richness they previously represented. A new line of friends were made. The idea that every girl in America could find a doll that looked like them was a marketing idea that Mattel ran with. The image of the company changes along with the look of the doll. You can always count on the Barbie makers to make the doll thinner than it was, the feet smaller, and the face more made up. A once female-owned company went to Mattel which has about eight board members and only one of them is a woman. So once again, a popular girls toy gets more focus on it's look and image than its empowering stories that made it appealing in the first place.

A friend told me that despite the company's issues the American Girl store is such a fun place for girls to go. She described it as warm and inclusive. I don't doubt that it is a dream come true for little girls to have a place to play and lunch with their dolls. The cost of everything in that store is anything but inclusive though. How does it represent America if only the wealthiest of people can afford it. The doll alone is $125. To get its ears pierced is $17 (which involves screwing a hole in its plastic head). The dolls used to be made out of high-quality vinyl, but are now hollower and made with thin plastic. The American Girl doll is also of course made in China. I have plenty of items made in China but it seems odd that a doll meant to celebrate American history would be produced in another country.

My daughter forgot about the doll for a few months but was reminded when she noticed another friend of hers had one. She liked how the had so many accessories and that she could care for them. I watched her with a Build-A-Bear doll that she got at a birthday party and saw that she actually played with it. I wondered if a I was depriving her of a doll experience. She had baby dolls but no dolls that represented her current age. She didn't want the doll for her birthday because she knew it cost so much and that she would only get that and that alone. She opted for a party. One day we went to Target for something else and she noticed the "Our Generation" dolls. They were the same idea as American Girl dolls but without the history part. I love the idea of learning history through play and especially if it is with the focus of a female story, but lets face it the American Girl company lost it's original goal years ago and what ti got replaced with was longer eyelashes and a skinnier frame.

When my daughter saw the dolls that were in Target, she really wanted one. I explained that they were not the same company but the same idea. She asked how much they were and when I told her that they were $27. She asked if she could have this kind of doll. I reminded her of the birthday present that she had already asked for and that if she wanted this instead she could have it. Or I offered that she could buy it with her own money. She went home counted up her coins and had over $40 in coins. I told her if we went to the bank to get papers to roll the money that we could return with the money to Target that same afternoon. When she returned to the store with her rolled coins in her hands she was so excited to pay for the doll herself. She handed the cashier her money and went home a very happy girl. That was over a month ago and she has played with that doll everyday since. When someone asks her if it is an American Girl doll, she says proudly that it is actually an Our Generation doll. Both products are the same height, the same concept and both give kids a lot of joy. She didn't end up learning much history, but she did learn a lesson in economics. It was the first time she learned anything about branding, advertising, and overseas production. She learned that consumers often buy into an expensive package and that you don't always have to. And that lesson is a valuable one.  

photo credit: Orit Harpaz

All By Myself....

I can't get that song out of my head. Except the words that follow, “Don't wan't to be.." don't apply as much in this case. Well, they kind of did this morning. This is my baby, my three year old baby's first day of preschool. I know, I will learn to embrace, appreciate and ultimately love three hours all to myself — but this morning was a shock. I have been with him, by his side, his whole life up to this point. He is a mama's boy for sure and we are pretty attached, so I wasn't sure how this whole first day would go. But he did great.

When I first introduced the idea to him, he asked if I was staying. Then when I said I wasn’t, he said he would be sad. I prepared him as best as I could and told him about new friends, teachers and things to play with. I read him books about little kids going off to school and saying goodbye and that the mama always comes back to hug and kiss them. Something clicked and my boy was so excited. He grabbed his lunch box this morning, put on his new little fox backpack and skipped his way out of our house. At school he smiled and said hello to everyone. My daughter walked him in with me and showed him that her new second grade class was right next door. We got to hang out for a bit and then it was time to walk her over to her class. I said we needed to say goodbye and he smiled waved and off we went. Shockingly, he was pretty chill.

I walked my daughter in and it was a well-organized classroom. We introduced ourselves to the teacher and on her own my daughter politely said, “Nice to meet you." She found her name on her desk and sat down. The parents didn't really stick around so I took their cue and gave her a hug and said goodbye. She was braver then I have ever seen her on a first day of school because I realized this is the first school she is attending for the second year in a row. She was excited to see her friends and start a new year. I walked out of the class and and let the tears flow.

It's hard to believe my kids are now going off to school together each day. He is only there for three hours so it isn't as if I can go start a new career or anything, but for the first time in almost eight years I am not pregnant, nursing, pushing a stroller, or holding a little hand. It is surreal and I did feel a bit lonely on the way home from dropping off. It will be an adjustment indeed but I have a feeling we will all get pretty comfortable soon.