Family Essentials

Recognition

Erin — Wed, 16 May 2012 18:29:13 +0000

The other day I was caught off-guard by my children. This wasn’t one of those moments when I wasn’t looking where I was going; it was a much more visceral thing. I was running late coming home from work, so my kids were already in the house. As I walked into the door, I got a glimpse of them sitting at the kitchen table doing homework, together. They looked so…well, grown-up isn’t the right term. It was more of a look of maturity. There was no whining. They weren’t arguing. They were just sitting in the same general vicinity, getting down to the business at hand. It was completely bizarre, and utterly stunning. It literally took my breath away, as I suddenly couldn’t see the baby shape of their faces anymore. It hit me that there had been more than one day in recent history where no one had cried, or I had not had to play referee. While on the one hand, I was psyched at this new stage in our family relationship, on the other hand, I realized we had entered territory that was unfamiliar. This new territory comes with fights with friends, and more homework, group dates, and bullying. Most importantly, it comes with the natural, and necessary, lessening of my connection to their everyday lives. What struck me most, as I watched my kids work independently, is that I’m not ready…but there’s not much I can do about it. Time to buckle up and hang on.

History Lesson

Clair — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 19:09:58 +0000

My daughter has started her state history unit in school. I remember 2 years ago when my son had the same unit. It was fun to talk with him about the rich history of our state. But, what I am noticing is that although it may be the same teacher teaching the same unit, what I am getting out of it at home is quite different this time around.

My son told me all about the role we played in the Revolutionary War. He knew all sorts of tidbits of information regarding forts, weapons, military, etc. He could spout off facts like the state flower, state bird, state flag and state sport. But, when I ask him now about that unit all he remembers is that the state unit means school is almost over, and, oh yeah, he remember the state flower and sport. Yes, that is all he retained from weeks of studying.

My state history experience with my daughter is very different. She is hyper focused on the cultural aspect of this unit. She only speaks using words that were used during the 18^th century…it is like living with Molly Pitcher. I have to ask for translations – often – and she gets rather annoyed with me. Well, excuse me Ms. Pitcher, but I have not brushed up on my King’s English as of late!

So, just as 2 years ago, this will be a learning experience for me, too. I just hope she retains a little more than he did. To be sure, daughter, you know these matters better than I! Translation: my kid, she’s got this!

You Can’t Un-Read That!

Martha — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 20:28:33 +0000

When my daughter started reading it was a sight to behold: you could see her eyes light up knowing that she now had the key to unlock every word put in front of her. They now have meaning, emotion and they can tell her anything she wants to know. And anything she doesn’t want to know too.

A few years have passed and, while it’s still magic, it has its terrifying moments. It’s hard to shelter a mind that can decode words. She is a voracious reader and has quickly surpassed her grade level which means more mature topics come up in books she is reading. I’ve had to explain the ugly things in life like war, hunger and poverty. I can count on having a late night knock at my door because of nightmares from a story about a certain boy wizard.

I know now that the only way to know if something is appropriate for her is to read it myself first. Which is exactly how the fire for reading has been re-lit under me.

When Every Minute is Accounted For

G.I. Jane — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 13:05:22 +0000

Since becoming a mother my life has transformed into a living, breathing schedule. Every minute is accounted for, slots of time have specific activities assigned to them, routines have become critical to maintaining order and each action is pre-calculated.

Gone is a time when days were fluid and free; errands could be run at a moment’s notice, dinner plans could be made while walking out the door and “me” time was all the time.

Here are a few of my examples:

Talks over dinner often include coordinating calendars;
Trips to the gym require prior knowledge so one parent knows they are on deck;
Going grocery shopping involves careful planning to occur during particular hours of the day, preferably after a meal and not too close to naptime;
You plan your day in a series of time blocks – if we do breakfast at 8, then I can run errands and be back by naptime, then we’ll have lunch when she gets up, which gives us 2 hours at the park before dad gets home…and it goes on and on.

Even when my husband innocently asks if I would be interested in taking our daughter to the farmer’s market on Sunday, I cringe. Not because I have some animosity towards fresh fruit but because it’s a pre-arranged event in my otherwise free-flowing weekend.

Some of this may be contributed to my Type A personality, but certainly there is some truth to it as well. However, every time I get frustrated with my lack of freedom, or sleep for that matter, I remember that there is a very beautiful reason for it – my daughter.

How do you cope with the daily routines, schedules and details of parenthood? Do you struggle or are there tips on how to be more chill?

Parenting Essentials April Newsletter

Auntie Em — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 17:22:19 +0000

Check out our April newsletter!

There Goes the Neighborhood

Erin — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 14:05:44 +0000

We moved recently, and one of the most wonderful parts of the new neighborhood is that it’s full of children. That’s also one of the downsides of the neighborhood. As soon as we arrived, I mean, as the moving truck was still outside, I saw signs that this neighborhood was kid-friendly. Bikes on the lawns, basketball nets, stray balls in random places. As the movers pulled away, the first curious kid wandered over. Since that first day here, not a day has gone by that we haven’t had a visitor, or that I haven’t had to retrieve my kids from random nearby homes to feed them, or put them to bed. One of the things I hadn’t realized is that once you let the neighbors kids in, you can’t get them out. They know when there’s homework, or when it’s time to go to bed, or when school is out. There’s no excuse you can use that they can’t suss out. The pantry is always open, and empty, and the floor is always muddy. On the plus side, when you start the grill, it’s like one big block party. I always have someone to turn to for the proverbial cup of sugar, or to watch the kids while I run to the store. I think the pile of random sneakers by the front door is worth it.

He’s a Runaway

Ward — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 16:12:11 +0000

Recently, my older son, who is now eight, has been learning to deal with his emotions. He has a tendency to turn small episodes into large emotional outbursts. After talking to friends, I have discovered this is a normal developmental stage that he will outgrow, though not soon enough for me.

Last Saturday, after getting up, I suggested he clean his room and the basement to earn his allowance. After about a half an hour, I go down to the basement and find that he and his brother are playing with their vast Lego collection. I told them that this is not how you earn allowance, and no allowance will be given if the room is not cleaned.

That comment sent my older son into an emotional tizzy with a barrage of outbursts, including: “You don’t love me!” “You think I’m a rotten kid!” “Nobody likes me!” All followed by a stomping up the stairs to his room. I went to the living room, sat on the couch and listened to the banging, wondering what the heck was going on, but hesitated interrupting him. About five minutes later he came stomping down the stairs with a tote bag full of all of his clothes. He marched right past me and headed to the front door. I asked him where he was going, and he yelled, “SOMEWHERE WHERE PEOPLE WILL LOVE, WHICH DOESN’T HAPPEN HERE!!!” He went to open the door but the top lock was locked, so he tried to unlock the bottom lock and still can’t get out. Then he tried to unlock the top lock but had inadvertently locked the bottom. Needless to say this went on for what seemed like 20 minutes. He kept trying different combinations of locks but couldn’t get the door open. I finally said, “Well, I knew life as a runaway would be hard, I just didn’t think it would be so hard so quickly.” As much as I tried to not laugh, I broke out in hysterics.

He threw his bag down and stomped back upstairs to, most likely, rework his plot. I gave about five minutes to cool off before I went up to talk it out. I sat on his bed, asked him why he was so upset and just listened without interruption. Finally, I gave him a big hug, told him that I loved him and tickled him in his arm pits. Before I knew it, he was cleaning up his room and earning his allowance. I just laid down on his bed to tried to regain some energy. After all, it was only 10:00 a.m. I might have three more of these episodes today.

Changing Child Care is No Joke

G.I. Jane — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 15:34:41 +0000

Before I had a child, child care was just one more thing that came with the territory, a necessity for working parents. When I became pregnant, researching and finding child care suddenly became an overwhelming task, but without knowing exactly what to look for or expect it wasn’t real. It was like the empty crib in the nursery – I know what it’s for and it looks pretty but it was just furniture. When I had my daughter, dropping her off at child care became a scary reality. I had to leave my baby…with someone who was almost a complete stranger.

After weeks of settling in, crying on my way to work and texting my child care provider daily, I was able to relax and trust that my daughter was well cared for. As my time with her progressed, I could tell she truly cared for my daughter and my daughter cared for her. After almost a year, I was faced with the need to change child care providers. The idea of having another stranger look after my very aware 14 month old was heartbreaking.

The first week was torture, incredibly stressful – I cried, she cried, I cried some more. Now I know why parents hate to change care providers – they become attached…children and parents. You grow accustomed to the routines, the expectations, the other families. The providers or teachers become like extended family, which is what helps working parents keep their sanity.

What was your experience with changing child care and how did you help make the adjustment better?

Reminders

Erin — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 13:43:47 +0000

As a single mom, I find myself bearing the majority of the child-rearing heavy-lifting. Occasionally (frequently), I find myself needing a little reminder that there are bigger and more important things in life than the minutiae of motherhood. In fact, I need this reminding so often that I’ve started a note on my iPhone. I thought I would share it, in the hopes that someone else (who is likely scrubbing milk out of the shag rug or cutting the crusts of the sandwiches once again) might benefit.

Children are our future: Yes, this is a song title. But it’s a song title for a reason. Society depends on the propagation of the species, and someone will need to cut the crusts of the toast when I’m old enough to be toothless. I take care of my kids now in the hopes that they will return the favor one day.

The center of the universe WILL expand: Child Development experts have studied the stages of ego development for as long as there have been children and egos to study. One thing is always the same…kids don’t realize that the world doesn’t revolve around them. Once you, as the adult, realize that they aren’t deliberately trying to make you insane, it’s easier to recognize that they honestly don’t know you need to get to work at a certain time. It’s just not on their radar.

Funny is a matter of opinion: The concept of “potty humor” goes along with the territory. Laugh at the gross stuff. You have to clean it up anyway.

Movies are overrated: You will never sit through an entire movie in a theatre again. Face it, that part of your life is over for the next 20 years. Get acquainted with Netflix and save yourself some money.

Your phone is not your own: No matter how hard you try, your phone will end up with children’s apps, and you will be handing it over. Get a rubber case and a screen protector. You can play Words with Friends when the kids go to bed.

Moving Day

Erin — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 13:20:00 +0000

There are few things in life that are more universally loathed than moving. Moving is one of those shared human experiences, regardless of nationality, creed, or political affiliation that brings us all together, in a mutual distaste for utility companies, broken furniture, and cardboard boxes. So it is with much sighing that I find myself moving, yet again. It’s interesting, if you think about it from a sociological perspective, that even though we know just dreadful moving is, that we continue to spend our weekends looking at houses.

And that’s how I found myself wearing disposable booties, tromping through crazily decorated living rooms, avoiding yapping dogs, and peering into strangers’ closets, with the hopes of finding a new home for me and my children. As an HGTV addict, I’m quite familiar with the ins and outs of real estate…so I knew a diamond in the rough when I saw it. This house was perfect for us. I didn’t even make the rookie mistake of complaining about the lousy paint colors or the wallpaper border…I knew I could fix those things. Long story short, after much paperwork drama, the house is ours. What I completely forgot about, when I mistakenly let my guard down for a second, was the fact that we still needed to move.

Packing and moving with two children is a curse I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. As I sit here, writing away, I can see the towers of almost toppling boxes full of books. I can see the first box I packed, which is also the first box I unpacked, when I realized there was something in there I still needed. While I am still completely overwhelmed, I can also flip back to the online listing that shows “SOLD.” And I know it’s all worth it.