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The MANCOLD
This was inspired by a recent discussion on DCurbanMoms.... apparently I'm not alone in noticing this!
In the interest of marital harmony, let me be clear right from the start: My husband Glenn is no girly-man. During the past few years, he has sustained so many injuries, through accidents that defy the imagination and boggle the mind, that he can no longer straighten half of his fingers and a chiropractor took one look at him and suggested he come in for weekly treatments lasting into infinity.
Take the time we were renovating a bathroom. At 3 a.m., a heavy rain began to fall and Glenn decided to make sure our bathroom was safe from leaks. Seconds later, I heard a thunderous noise and a howl reminiscent of a wolf baying at a full moon. Glenn had forgotten the bathroom’s floorboards had been removed, and he somehow crashed through the plaster ceiling of the room below. He hung from a joist, his head in one level of the house and his legs in another, swaying like a piñata only a malicious kid would want at their birthday party.
Bad Mommy: Eating our way through the grocery store
I don't know why I seem to be the only parent doing this. The looks and head shakes from other moms as my kids scarf in the cart is the least of my worries, but really, what's the big deal?
The domes of cheese and bread cubes at Whole Foods started it.
The Costco vendors of mini bagel dogs and one-gulp fruit smoothies reinforced it.
Chef Charley at the Trader Joe's took it to a whole new level, what with his cups of cat-shaped cookies, apple cider and other yummies.
My children cannot get through a grocery run without eating their way through the store.
I let them. One whine and I am a goner. Anything to get through the hunting and gathering for the family with a minimum of meltdowns from my four- and almost two-year-old children.
I can feel my Southern belle grandma tsk-tsking me from heaven. She a would think my popping open of the bags of Terra chips and tiny boxes of raisins so unrefined. She would shudder as I yanked a juicebox from the rest of its family of 12, stabbed the straw in the hole and placed it in eager little hands.
At our regular stores, the cashiers know us well, and with smirks ring up the boxes and bags that have already been opened. They patiently weigh and ring up that single banana twice when I explain that one about that size was already devoured by the monkeys. The nice ones will even offer to toss away the sticky peel. Sometimes we have not even left the building before the staff are pulling out the broom to pick up the granola bar droppings we leave in our wake.
I guess this is totally uncouth, unsanitary (thank goodness for Purell) and maybe against the rules, but allowing the kids to eat in the store has cut the temper tantrums dramatically. It saves me money in that I am not tempted to buy them a little toy every visit - their hands are already busy noshing. We hit the produce and healthy food aisles first, so their little bellies are too full to whine for the verboten candies in the check out line. The rule is they can only snack on the items that mama has on the list - no neon blue suckers, no double-stuffed sandwich cookies. Now the kids look forward to the grocery store, an errand that used to provoke demonic seizures from the backseat. The three of us have a great time chatting about the foods, colors, uses for products and my oldest practices sounding out the words on the big labels...in between big bites.
I don't know why I seem to be the only parent doing this. The looks and head shakes from other moms as my kids scarf in the cart is the least of my worries, but really, what's the big deal? At least I won't be the one slaving over a sit-down family lunch once we get home.
Jessica blogs daily about activities for families in the DC area at A Parent in Silver Spring. Watch for her upcoming post, Bad Mommy: Drinking our way through the liquor store!
Introducing the Family and Home Network
Family and Home Network was originally named Mothers at Home at its founding in 1984; we changed the name in 2001 to acknowledge the complexities of mothers' lives, to discourage labeling mothers by their work/home choices -- and to acknowledge and embrace fathers. Thinking about families and public policy has been part of FAHN's work for decades and it is our current focus.
Puzzling out the Spanish words on a poster in the town square, I was a bit started when I detected her behind me. I was carrying my five month old in a backpack, and the old woman held his foot in her hand as she spoke with a dramatic, pitying tone in Spanish, “Poor little one, with your cold feet.” Whoa, I thought, as I smiled uneasily and moved away-- what is this all about? It was 85 degrees and sunny. Duh. I finally realized this was just another of my mothering practices that seemed so odd (i.e. wrong) to the residents of this city in central Mexico. Almost every baby I saw was wrapped head to foot and carried by their mom in a reboza (a cloth wrap). There were few strollers to be seen, and it seemed that middle class babies stayed home with a maid/nanny when their moms went out.
Preschoolers Don't Learn By Bad Example
How did I miss it that children under the age of six do not learn by bad example? And why are children's book authors and educational television programs missing this as well?
I've made many a screw up as a mother. Unfortunately, most of these mistakes have occurred with my first child. To paraphrase the great Erma Bombeck, my first child got me new but he also got the blisters. Maybe that's the trade off for always getting the new toys first and rarely having to wear hand-me-downs: first kids bear the brunt of their novice parents' foibles.
Though not a child development expert, my mommy newness has compelled me to become a regular of the parenting sections of the public library and local bookstores. T. Berry Brazleton and me? Thick as thieves. So how did I miss it that children under the age of six don't usually learn by bad example? And why are children's book authors and educational television programs missing this as well?
Thirty-nine.. again
Turning 39 can be traumatic, especially for those of us doing it for the third time. As the fateful day approached, I conducted some independent research by asking my minivan full of kids how old I looked.
“About 45,” said one depressingly honest kid who needs a firmer hand at home (note to self: tell husband to get to work on that).
“Twenty-two,” chirped a brilliant and --- it must be said -- uncannily observant little girl named Elya. I instructed her to tell her mom that she should eat candy for dinner, and I lovingly replayed her comment in my mind until I asked her how old my husband Glenn looks. Bear in mind that he’s five-and-a-half years older than me — ten if you round up.
“Twenty-two,” Elya chirped.
Clearly drastic measures were called for. It didn’t help that the day’s mail brought a fashion magazine with skin-care regimes for women of different ages. The categories of ages were under 20, 20 to 30, 30 to 40, and 40 and up.
If You've Ever Thought About Writing a Novel...
Hi all,
I thought some of you might be interested in a behind-the-scenes look at what it's like to try to write and publish a novel, so I'm including a link to Bethesda Magazine. I wrote a piece this month about six local women -- myself included -- who are in various stages of the process, from beginning the writing process to signing a publishing contract. You can see the full article by clicking on the link (www.bethesdamagazine.com). Happy writing! And feel free to contact me anytime if you're interested in more information after reading the article.
Sarah P.
Best Green Tip for Your Beach Vacation
Heading to the beach this weekend? You no doubt made peace with the fact that you’ll be adding to your carbon footprint — hey, anything for some fun in the sand and surf, right?!
But you can still do something to minimize your environmental impact on the beach. And no, I’m not referring to picking up trash on the beach – although that’s always a good idea.
What does nearly everyone do at the beach? Shower! There’s nothing better than those wonderful outside showers. But when you soap up, the soap runs into storm water drains that often lead directly to the ocean. The soap run-off is toxic to marine life.
And those “earth friendly” biodegradable soaps and shampoos? Well, according to this report from the Maryland Department of the Environment, even “a flush of ‘biodegradable’ soap suds will still harm fish or invertebrates in your local stream.”
That was news to yours truly, who regrettably had lathered up outside on more than one occasion with “earth friendly” biodegradable soaps. In Rehoboth Beach, our favorite seaside destination, the storm water drains flow directly to the Atlantic Ocean and to a fresh-water lake, which was recently the scene of a massive fish kill due to environmental toxins from storm water run-off, among other suspected causes.
So enjoy your outside shower, but skip the soap and shampoo. Save the real clean-up for the inside shower!
Happy Fourth of July!
Lynn
Copyright 2008 OrganicMania
Beauvoir Teacher Caught with Pictures of Nude Child
For over a week, DCUM has been consumed by discussion concerning the discovery of inappropriate pictures of a young boy on a camera possessed by a third-grade teacher at one of the most elite schools in Washington, DC. At what point is a discussion of a story on DCUM become the story itself?
A popular third-grade teacher at Beauvoir, the National Cathedral Elementary School, has been placed on administrative leave after a school-owned camera in his possession was found to contain inappropriate pictures of a young boy. School officials notified parents of the incident in a June 12 letter that said, "The teacher was immediately placed on administrative leave, escorted from Beauvoir that afternoon, and did not participate in any of the closing chapel activities". Discussion of the incident has been raging in the DC Urban Moms and Dads discussion forum since a June 16 posting asking for specifics about what had happened.
While school officials have attempted to be proactive in providing information to the Beauvoir community (distributing letters on June 12, June 19, and June 20), many DCUM posters have complained that Beauvoir has not gone far enough. Anonymous posters have passed on information that has ranged from insider knowledge to simple gossip. The debate has grown to encompass many aspects including accusations that the school prioritized guarding its reputation over the protection of children, that Beauvoir was conspiring with the Washington Post to keep the story out of the newspaper, and that forum users themselves were acting as a lynch mob.
My Inner Carol Brady is AWOL
Last night my family sat down around our dinner table and enjoyed a nourishing, home-cooked meal while we lovingly and supportively talked about our respective days. But then I woke up. As I rolled over in bed -- onto the soggy, half-eaten Teddy Graham that made up the “grains” portion of my four-year-old’s dinner -- I checked off yet another mark on my robust maternal guilt list: Our family dinner hour masquerades as the family drive-thru 10 minutes.
I think I feel guilty because I grew up with an unrealistic model of domestic bliss, a family in which Mom served a piping hot meal every night out of a magically uncluttered kitchen and Dad eagerly cleared the table. No, not my parents: The Brady Bunch. Carol and Mike really screwed the rest of us -- no nut allergies or aversions to leafy greens in their perky little blended family. No one in the Brady family ever flung themselves to the kitchen floor in the throes of a tantrum, screaming, “Not grilled-cheese sandwiches again!” (Which, I confess, I did just the other night).
A good night's sleep
A mother’s prayer: Please, please, please let me get a good night’s sleep tonight. Please don’t let me wake up in a race car-shaped kiddie bed at 3 a.m. with my head wedged into a wheel well and a kid sprawled across my legs, like last night. Please don’t let a child crawl into bed with me and promptly pee on me. Just one good night’s sleep, that’s all I ask. Amen.
10 p.m. sharp: Time to turn off the television and go straight to bed. Am so tired. Ooh, but an “American Idol” rerun is on! I’ll just watch for a minute.
11:00 p.m. I’m so over Clay Aiken. Anyway, off to bed.
11:03 p.m. How can I be expected to sleep when a persistent voice is coming from the kitchen freezer, calling out, “Hellooooo? Anyone awake?”
