Yesterday, I was at the dance studio waiting for my daughter to finish her ballet class. Now, since my girls have been dancing since they were two, and one of them dances on a competition team, this is not an unusual place for me to spend a weekday afternoon. In fact, we're there four days a week. (I know, that's decidedly un-Slacker Mom, but I'm working on getting some overlap in the schedule. Next week we'll be down to 3 days a week. Yay me.)
But I digress. My 8-year-old and I were waiting for my 6-year-old to finish her ballet class, when another mom asked my daughter, "So what do you DO for an hour while your sister's in class?" My daughter looked up at her (in confusion, I might add, since she had her nose in a book), and said, "I read."
"Read? How do you get her to read?" the other mom (I'll call her Anne) asked. "Doesn't she want to bring her DSi, or her iPod, or her cell phone? My kids only read at bedtime, and only because I make them."
And my sweet, brilliant girl replied, "I LOVE to read! I'd rather read than do ANY of that! When my mom punishes me, she takes away my books!" (That's true, actually. I do. Like I said, whatever works.) Of course, as soon as we were in the car, she started with the "It's not fair! I want an iPod Touch, an iPhone, a DSi, and my own laptop, just like Brooke has" crap, but that's another story.
Now, if parents want to buy their 8-year-old an iPad, her own cell phone, or the Hope Diamond, for that matter, go for it. No argument from Slacker Mom. Hey, my kids have, no joke, 14 American Girl dolls in their playroom. (Santa and Gramma are pretty darn generous, and Gramma only had boys, after all. She LOVES to buy dolls.) But, as I told my daughter, if you asked Santa for a $100 doll, why on earth would you also get a DSi or an iPod? And a cell phone? You're 8! You're at school or with me. Who are you going to call? And why couldn't you just use the phone that's sitting on the kitchen counter?
But no, Anne just couldn't leave it alone. I got a 20-minute explanation of why her kids (5 and 8) have all the electronics that they do: she doesn't want to have to entertain them when she's home, and if they are plugged in, they are quiet and leave her alone and she doesn't have to figure out what to do with them. Her words, moms, not mine. If her girls are bored and want to play on the computer, she doesn't want to have to "share" hers. (See, I just tell my kids no. As in, "No, I'm using it and you can go play with something else. And if you're really that bored, I've got a couple of toilets that need scrubbing." Works every time.) And then - her fatal error - Anne continued to explain that because the iPod Touch and DSi are "educational", that they can teach reading skills and math facts, I shouldn't allow my kids to "miss out" on the "educational opportunities" they could be providing for my children.
Now, usually Slacker Mom is all about the love. To each her own, parent and let parent, that kind of thing. I am rarely, if ever, defensive about my parenting choices. I know I'm the best mom that I can be at any given moment (whether that's ego or age, I don't know, but it's true: I don't really care what anyone else thinks) and I assume the same about other moms. But don't get me started on education. I will morph from mellow, live-and-let-live Slacker Mom into a ranting, raving, soap-box carrying lunatic when you start talking about education - particularly the education of MY children.
So I kind of let her have it. I explained that I taught my kids to read with no gadgets or electronics, that I used the good old-fashioned method I used as a teacher: phonics and books. Yep, my kids learned to read (at age 4, I might add) by reading books. And math? Sure, you can do drills on your DSi, but I taught my kids math through real-life math problems and the old stand-by: manipulatives. So PLEASE don't try to sell me on electronics by telling me it will give my kids an "edge" in school. Please. They are both significantly above grade level in all academic areas, one of them skipped a grade, both are gifted - and it's not because I bought them a laptop or a DSi or a cell phone.
Hey, let's call it what it is: entertainment. If you want to provide your kids with electronics, go for it. I really don't care one way or another. But it's NOT for educational purposes alone, and we all know it. It's for entertainment, which is not a bad thing. It's just not MY thing. I let my kids play video games, use my cell, use my laptop, use my iPod. I just don't call it "education" or feel that they need - or are entitled to - their very own.
Personally, I don't believe that ANY 8-year-old actually needs a $300 iPod, a cell phone, her own laptop. Of COURSE my daughter wants all of the above: we live in a materialistic society, where many people seem to feel the need to buy the latest version of the newest big thing, cost be damned, and she wants what "everyone else" has. I was the same way as a kid. But I'm not spending $100 a month on a wireless plan for myself, let alone my kid. Nope. Not doing it. Call me cheap, but I'd rather spend that money on dance lessons, books, a trip to see my sister and her kids.
Besides, it's kind of like the 12-year-old whose parents get her a limo for her middle school dance; what do you do for prom? for her wedding? Let's leave something for later. Why get "everything" now? And where's the lesson on working for things? If everything is just given to them, do they appreciate it? One mom said, "But if his grandparents want to buy my first-grader his own laptop, who am I to say no?" Well, um, in a word - the PARENT. I don't care WHAT my parents want to buy my kids; I'm the mommy. What if they bought a puppy? Wouldn't you need to approve that first, too? No, my parents can buy my girls all the dolls they want, but, as I told my mother, "You ARE NOT taking them to Hawaii for spring break." No deal. At least, not unless you take me, too.
Slacker Mom Says...back off! My kids aren't entitled to the latest electronic gadgets any more than yours are entitled to have four puppies, three kittens, and a pony. I won't criticize you for the decisions you make, so don't tell me my kids "should" have the same things yours do. Soon enough, they WILL need all that stuff, and we'll get them their own laptops and cell phones. But right now, they are content to play Barbies, dolls, and board games. Right now, they'd rather run upstairs to their playroom and create a world of horses, fairies, and magic than play video games. Right now, my two girls are best friends who would rather play together than hole up alone in their rooms. Right now, they'd rather curl up on the couch with me and hear a great story than text their friends. Why on earth would we do anything to discourage that? Why grow up so fast? Their teen years will be here too soon as it is. In ten short years, we'll be sending our firstborn off to college, and our baby will follow two years later. For now, we'll focus on spending time together, rather than spending time plugged in. That's just us. Don't knock it til you've tried it.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The "Me" Behind the Mommy
Oh, how things change in a few short years. A recent day at the beach had me reminiscing about the "before" and "after" of my life as a mom.
Before kids, I practically lived at the beach. I spent weekends with my convertible top down, laying on the beach, watching surfers and volleyball players, and hanging out on Lahaina's beach-front deck, floating a cup of ice in a pitcher of beer. I chatted up cute lifeguards while eating ice cream - in a bikini - and fully subscribed to the "if you need anything more than a towel and a smile, you're carrying too much to the beach" way of thinking.
After kids, I find myself gawking (wistfully, enviously) at teenage girls and their teeny, tiny bikinis. Sure, I remember perky boobs, a flat stomach (without a c-section scar or stretch marks from carrying 11-lb babies), and a dimple-free butt. What a shame that I didn't fully appreciate it when I had it. Carrying a bag of towels and beach toys, my first aid kit (Epi-Pens for everyone!), a cooler of snacks for the kids, Boogey Boards, and a beach umbrella leaves me gasping for breath and praying for a spot close to the lifeguard tower - so that I can ask him for the time and remember to reapply sunscreen every 2 hours. That pitcher of beer on the deck? Now it's Vitamin Water and juice boxes. I'm pretty sure that beer's not even allowed on Children's Beach anyway.
Before kids, a trip to the grocery store used to involve $40 and one hand-held basket of salad stuff, whole bean coffee, fresh flowers, some yogurt. Now? It's $60 in meat alone! Sometimes I can't even fit a week's worth of groceries in one cart. That $12 for flowers? That's a tennis lesson or a package of diapers now. And whole bean coffee? Seriously? Who has time to grind fresh coffee on school days? Besides, it'd probably wake the whole house up. Cranky kids at 6:00 AM? No thanks.
Where I used to be on a first-name basis with bouncers, bartenders, and the hottest DJs in town, now it's pediatricians, teachers, and the cashier at my local Target store. I used to know all the hot clubs, beaches, bars and boutiques. Now I know where to score double coupons, a good deal on tap shoes, the latest releases in children's literature, and the newest line from Gymboree. Waiting in line for concert tickets gave way to waiting in line for soccer sign-ups and preschool registration.
Sometimes I find myself thinking wistfully back to "the good old days", when I could do whatever I wanted on the weekends, when I didn't have to worry about anyone else's needs, when I didn't have to take into account anyone else's schedule or plans. No one made demands on my time. No one needed me to cut up their apples, apply their sunscreen, wash their hair, remember their pacifier or lovey or extra diapers. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to be completely selfish again, to not be worried about anyone or anything else? At least for a little while?
Well, in a word - yes. Or, as my friend Michelle says, "HELL, yes." It's important to remember that we used to put our own needs first and not feel guilty about it. If we never do that, we'll end up resentful, angry, frustrated. And we might take that out on our kids and husbands. That's not good for anyone. We need to find little ways to be single girls again, do things that remind us who we used to be. Every morning after I drop my kids off at school, I listen to a CD that I call "My Single Self Reminisces." It starts with Pink's U + Ur Hand, a song that defines the nightclub experiences of my 20s. Old Madonna, Prince, some raunchy Nickelback, a little Kid Rock. Explicit lyrics, club songs, the music of my single life. Like I'd let my girls listen to THAT. It's no weekend in San Diego, but when I crank that CD, I can almost forget that I'm driving a disco-blue SUV/mom-mobile with booster seats and school spirit magnets instead of my 2-door convertible - red, of course - that could barely seat a couple of my girlfriends and our beach bags.
Yes, life has changed in just a few short years. The weird thing is, I don't mind in the least. I don't actually feel any older than I did 10 years ago. Oh, I LOOK older; there are fine lines that weren't there before; the word "perky" can most assuredly NOT be used to describe any part of my body. Short of surgery, my tummy will never be flat again, and those stretch-mark creams were definitely a waste of money. Sometimes I have the odd ache or pain when I wake up in the morning, and I definitely can't pull all-nighters anymore. But overall, I wouldn't go back. I wouldn't trade a moment of my life as a wife and mother. Well, maybe a moment. Here or there.
Slacker Mom Says...give yourself permission to be selfish and go back to your single-girl days once in awhile. Get out the photo albums, have the girls over for margaritas, reminisce about what life was like when you slept until 10, partied until 3, started Happy Hour promptly at 5. Go away with your husband, your sister, your girlfriends. Renew, recharge, refresh. Remember who you used to be, so that you can enjoy who you are now. Now that I'm a mom - and let's face it, that will forever be my primary title; even when they are grown and gone, I will still be their mom - I can't imagine going back to a time when my girls didn't exist. Having kids requires us to be selfless and tireless and responsible - in short, a Mom, with a capital M. But every now and then, I want to remember who Kelly was, before she was a wife and a mother. And what's wrong with that?
Before kids, I practically lived at the beach. I spent weekends with my convertible top down, laying on the beach, watching surfers and volleyball players, and hanging out on Lahaina's beach-front deck, floating a cup of ice in a pitcher of beer. I chatted up cute lifeguards while eating ice cream - in a bikini - and fully subscribed to the "if you need anything more than a towel and a smile, you're carrying too much to the beach" way of thinking.
After kids, I find myself gawking (wistfully, enviously) at teenage girls and their teeny, tiny bikinis. Sure, I remember perky boobs, a flat stomach (without a c-section scar or stretch marks from carrying 11-lb babies), and a dimple-free butt. What a shame that I didn't fully appreciate it when I had it. Carrying a bag of towels and beach toys, my first aid kit (Epi-Pens for everyone!), a cooler of snacks for the kids, Boogey Boards, and a beach umbrella leaves me gasping for breath and praying for a spot close to the lifeguard tower - so that I can ask him for the time and remember to reapply sunscreen every 2 hours. That pitcher of beer on the deck? Now it's Vitamin Water and juice boxes. I'm pretty sure that beer's not even allowed on Children's Beach anyway.
Before kids, a trip to the grocery store used to involve $40 and one hand-held basket of salad stuff, whole bean coffee, fresh flowers, some yogurt. Now? It's $60 in meat alone! Sometimes I can't even fit a week's worth of groceries in one cart. That $12 for flowers? That's a tennis lesson or a package of diapers now. And whole bean coffee? Seriously? Who has time to grind fresh coffee on school days? Besides, it'd probably wake the whole house up. Cranky kids at 6:00 AM? No thanks.
Where I used to be on a first-name basis with bouncers, bartenders, and the hottest DJs in town, now it's pediatricians, teachers, and the cashier at my local Target store. I used to know all the hot clubs, beaches, bars and boutiques. Now I know where to score double coupons, a good deal on tap shoes, the latest releases in children's literature, and the newest line from Gymboree. Waiting in line for concert tickets gave way to waiting in line for soccer sign-ups and preschool registration.
Sometimes I find myself thinking wistfully back to "the good old days", when I could do whatever I wanted on the weekends, when I didn't have to worry about anyone else's needs, when I didn't have to take into account anyone else's schedule or plans. No one made demands on my time. No one needed me to cut up their apples, apply their sunscreen, wash their hair, remember their pacifier or lovey or extra diapers. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to be completely selfish again, to not be worried about anyone or anything else? At least for a little while?
Well, in a word - yes. Or, as my friend Michelle says, "HELL, yes." It's important to remember that we used to put our own needs first and not feel guilty about it. If we never do that, we'll end up resentful, angry, frustrated. And we might take that out on our kids and husbands. That's not good for anyone. We need to find little ways to be single girls again, do things that remind us who we used to be. Every morning after I drop my kids off at school, I listen to a CD that I call "My Single Self Reminisces." It starts with Pink's U + Ur Hand, a song that defines the nightclub experiences of my 20s. Old Madonna, Prince, some raunchy Nickelback, a little Kid Rock. Explicit lyrics, club songs, the music of my single life. Like I'd let my girls listen to THAT. It's no weekend in San Diego, but when I crank that CD, I can almost forget that I'm driving a disco-blue SUV/mom-mobile with booster seats and school spirit magnets instead of my 2-door convertible - red, of course - that could barely seat a couple of my girlfriends and our beach bags.
Yes, life has changed in just a few short years. The weird thing is, I don't mind in the least. I don't actually feel any older than I did 10 years ago. Oh, I LOOK older; there are fine lines that weren't there before; the word "perky" can most assuredly NOT be used to describe any part of my body. Short of surgery, my tummy will never be flat again, and those stretch-mark creams were definitely a waste of money. Sometimes I have the odd ache or pain when I wake up in the morning, and I definitely can't pull all-nighters anymore. But overall, I wouldn't go back. I wouldn't trade a moment of my life as a wife and mother. Well, maybe a moment. Here or there.
Slacker Mom Says...give yourself permission to be selfish and go back to your single-girl days once in awhile. Get out the photo albums, have the girls over for margaritas, reminisce about what life was like when you slept until 10, partied until 3, started Happy Hour promptly at 5. Go away with your husband, your sister, your girlfriends. Renew, recharge, refresh. Remember who you used to be, so that you can enjoy who you are now. Now that I'm a mom - and let's face it, that will forever be my primary title; even when they are grown and gone, I will still be their mom - I can't imagine going back to a time when my girls didn't exist. Having kids requires us to be selfless and tireless and responsible - in short, a Mom, with a capital M. But every now and then, I want to remember who Kelly was, before she was a wife and a mother. And what's wrong with that?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
All Mommy, All the Time
A couple of days ago, while I was trying to enjoy a peaceful shower with some lovely new bath gel, one of my usually sweet-tempered and patient daughters came downstairs to my bathroom, yelling about something her sister said to her. Exactly what, I really can't remember, because it (unfortunately) happens more than I'd like to admit (and it's rarely anything important or memorable), but seriously? Five minutes, that's all I ask, five minutes (and we all know how fast we learn to shower once we have kids - in 5 minutes we can shampoo, condition and shave), with no sister issues! I tried ignoring her, but I just about lost it when she started wailing, "Mo-o-o-m! She's being mean! Aren't you going to DO anything about it?" It was that dragging of a one syllable word - mom - into about 4 that really sent me over the edge.
Um, I'm standing here with shampoo in my eyes and shaving cream on my legs. What, exactly, do you think I should do? Is there a fire? an intruder? a bone protruding through the skin? Then leave me the @*%$ alone for five minutes to take a freakin' shower!
It's the same thing when I pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the computer. Suddenly, everyone needs me (or the computer) right away. And just try to use the bathroom in peace. I close the door - shoot, I LOCK the door - but they just knock on it until I answer. "Mom? MOM! I'm hungry!" Really? REALLY!?! I'm GOING TO THE BATHROOM! What do you think I can do for you? And do you REALLY want me to prepare food FROM HERE???"
Of course, it's even more annoying when my husband is home and they STILL come to me. And I ESPECIALLY love it when they walk right past him on their way to the bathroom to find me. Apparently, even with his advanced degrees and 40+ years of life experience, Daddy's not capable of slicing an apple, pouring a glass of milk, or helping them with homework. No, in my world, those are mommy jobs, every time.
Now, I love my kids and I love being their mom, I do, but sometimes I'd like to shower without anyone watching me from the other side of the glass door. I'd like to check my e-mail without anyone asking me where her pink Zhu Zhu pet is. (I swear to God, I was NOT the last one to play with it.) I'd like to brush my teeth, put in my contacts, or do any other tiny little five-minute job without someone, anyone, needing anything at all from me. Why is that such a tall order? Why do our kids think we are on duty 24/7, 'round the clock, for their every convenience? I mean, I'm just one person, and I will eventually have to eat, shower, poop, and/or sleep. And there comes a time when I am not available for anyone's anything. I'm not a 7/11 store. Sometimes, Mommy is closed.
So, after much reflection, here's my theory: our kids do this because we let them. Yep, earth-shattering revelation here, folks. We've trained our kids to think we are at their beck and call. Even the most conscientious slackers are guilty of it at some point. Oh, sure, when they're tiny, we really do have to pretty much respond to their cries rather quickly. Infants are learning to trust us, to trust that we will meet their needs and help them through their dirty diapers and colicky tummies and teething pain. Absolutely. But honestly, once they hit the preschool years, maybe we need to back off a bit and let them know that Mommy is a person, too, with needs and rights of her own, and they can wait. Maybe we aren't teaching delayed gratification - and independence - early enough.
From a developmental point of view, little kids are selfish little beings. That's not mean, that's just the truth. Kids are selfish. They believe that they are the center of the universe, that their needs and wants take priority over anyone else's, and that they have the right to Mom at all hours of the day and night. But it's up to us to teach them otherwise, to show them that everyone has rights, that their needs must be balanced against the needs of others. And we do this, naturally, as moms. You'll have to wait for your snack because I'm feeding the baby. You need to share your toys with the other children at preschool. Mommy's cooking dinner, so I can't take you out to play just yet.
But do we teach them that WE have rights, too? That Mom's needs and wants are JUST as important as theirs? Or do we let them see us as someone to meet THEIR needs as well as the rest of the family's needs? Do we consistently put our own desires last, after everyone else's needs are met?
I'd argue that yes, most of us do.
C'mon, how many times have you slathered the kids, scalp to pinkie toe, in SPF 70, then forgotten to do your own back? Ever eaten the heel of the bread loaf, even though you hate it, because you gave your kids all the "good" pieces? How many times have you heard a friend complain that her kids sat on the couch watching TV or playing video games while she cleaned? I say, hand those kids a dust rag and tell 'em to get dusting! If I'm running around cleaning up, they can be helping. How many times have you taken toys back upstairs where they belonged? Did YOU play with them? Then why are YOU putting them away? If they can't clean up the playroom, if I have to do it, then it's going to be MY playroom. I'm seeing a new computer, a comfy chair for writing, new bookshelves for all MY stuff. Maybe a poster of Edward and Bella on the wall, who knows. I could use a room to myself. Heck, I could use a bathroom to myself. I've been sharing with a boy since 1997.
Last month, I re-read the book Flirting With Forty by Jane Porter. It's a great book for many reasons, but one passage in particular really struck me. The main character, Jackie, is celebrating her 40th birthday with her two kids, ages 5 and 9. She cuts the cake, gives them the "good pieces" with intact roses and lots of frosting, and takes the broken piece with no rose for herself. Then, suddenly, she realizes: Hey, this is MY cake, MY birthday. She puts it back and cuts a better (and bigger) piece for herself. Her kids protest, "Hey, you already HAD a piece! And WE get the roses!" She looks at them and says, "It's MY cake. I'm getting the roses." And smiles. And I thought: YES! We all do that! We take the crap piece, the burnt toast, the broken cookie.
No more. I'm taking the good piece. I'm taking a shower alone. I'm finishing one article without interruption. I mean, my kids are 6 and 8. They can pour their own cereal, wipe their own bottoms, take their own showers. They get mad if someone intrudes on their "bathroom time", yet they think nothing, NOTHING, of walking right in on mine. But that ends today.
Slacker Mom Says...moms have rights, too. Sometimes, you do not have access to Mommy. Access Denied, Shop Closed for Repairs. If there's an emergency, if you have a serious problem that cannot wait, I'm absolutely there. Otherwise, the "closed for business" sign is going up now and then. And that's not being a bad mom, a neglectful mom. It's teaching our kids that WE matter, too, that Mom has rights and should be treated with at least as much respect and deference as anyone else - if not more! Most of the time, I'm fully available. But now and then, I'm not. Now and then, you can wait - or better yet, learn to do it yourself.
Or you can ask your dad. Preferably, when he's on the toilet or watching the big game.
Um, I'm standing here with shampoo in my eyes and shaving cream on my legs. What, exactly, do you think I should do? Is there a fire? an intruder? a bone protruding through the skin? Then leave me the @*%$ alone for five minutes to take a freakin' shower!
It's the same thing when I pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the computer. Suddenly, everyone needs me (or the computer) right away. And just try to use the bathroom in peace. I close the door - shoot, I LOCK the door - but they just knock on it until I answer. "Mom? MOM! I'm hungry!" Really? REALLY!?! I'm GOING TO THE BATHROOM! What do you think I can do for you? And do you REALLY want me to prepare food FROM HERE???"
Of course, it's even more annoying when my husband is home and they STILL come to me. And I ESPECIALLY love it when they walk right past him on their way to the bathroom to find me. Apparently, even with his advanced degrees and 40+ years of life experience, Daddy's not capable of slicing an apple, pouring a glass of milk, or helping them with homework. No, in my world, those are mommy jobs, every time.
Now, I love my kids and I love being their mom, I do, but sometimes I'd like to shower without anyone watching me from the other side of the glass door. I'd like to check my e-mail without anyone asking me where her pink Zhu Zhu pet is. (I swear to God, I was NOT the last one to play with it.) I'd like to brush my teeth, put in my contacts, or do any other tiny little five-minute job without someone, anyone, needing anything at all from me. Why is that such a tall order? Why do our kids think we are on duty 24/7, 'round the clock, for their every convenience? I mean, I'm just one person, and I will eventually have to eat, shower, poop, and/or sleep. And there comes a time when I am not available for anyone's anything. I'm not a 7/11 store. Sometimes, Mommy is closed.
So, after much reflection, here's my theory: our kids do this because we let them. Yep, earth-shattering revelation here, folks. We've trained our kids to think we are at their beck and call. Even the most conscientious slackers are guilty of it at some point. Oh, sure, when they're tiny, we really do have to pretty much respond to their cries rather quickly. Infants are learning to trust us, to trust that we will meet their needs and help them through their dirty diapers and colicky tummies and teething pain. Absolutely. But honestly, once they hit the preschool years, maybe we need to back off a bit and let them know that Mommy is a person, too, with needs and rights of her own, and they can wait. Maybe we aren't teaching delayed gratification - and independence - early enough.
From a developmental point of view, little kids are selfish little beings. That's not mean, that's just the truth. Kids are selfish. They believe that they are the center of the universe, that their needs and wants take priority over anyone else's, and that they have the right to Mom at all hours of the day and night. But it's up to us to teach them otherwise, to show them that everyone has rights, that their needs must be balanced against the needs of others. And we do this, naturally, as moms. You'll have to wait for your snack because I'm feeding the baby. You need to share your toys with the other children at preschool. Mommy's cooking dinner, so I can't take you out to play just yet.
But do we teach them that WE have rights, too? That Mom's needs and wants are JUST as important as theirs? Or do we let them see us as someone to meet THEIR needs as well as the rest of the family's needs? Do we consistently put our own desires last, after everyone else's needs are met?
I'd argue that yes, most of us do.
C'mon, how many times have you slathered the kids, scalp to pinkie toe, in SPF 70, then forgotten to do your own back? Ever eaten the heel of the bread loaf, even though you hate it, because you gave your kids all the "good" pieces? How many times have you heard a friend complain that her kids sat on the couch watching TV or playing video games while she cleaned? I say, hand those kids a dust rag and tell 'em to get dusting! If I'm running around cleaning up, they can be helping. How many times have you taken toys back upstairs where they belonged? Did YOU play with them? Then why are YOU putting them away? If they can't clean up the playroom, if I have to do it, then it's going to be MY playroom. I'm seeing a new computer, a comfy chair for writing, new bookshelves for all MY stuff. Maybe a poster of Edward and Bella on the wall, who knows. I could use a room to myself. Heck, I could use a bathroom to myself. I've been sharing with a boy since 1997.
Last month, I re-read the book Flirting With Forty by Jane Porter. It's a great book for many reasons, but one passage in particular really struck me. The main character, Jackie, is celebrating her 40th birthday with her two kids, ages 5 and 9. She cuts the cake, gives them the "good pieces" with intact roses and lots of frosting, and takes the broken piece with no rose for herself. Then, suddenly, she realizes: Hey, this is MY cake, MY birthday. She puts it back and cuts a better (and bigger) piece for herself. Her kids protest, "Hey, you already HAD a piece! And WE get the roses!" She looks at them and says, "It's MY cake. I'm getting the roses." And smiles. And I thought: YES! We all do that! We take the crap piece, the burnt toast, the broken cookie.
No more. I'm taking the good piece. I'm taking a shower alone. I'm finishing one article without interruption. I mean, my kids are 6 and 8. They can pour their own cereal, wipe their own bottoms, take their own showers. They get mad if someone intrudes on their "bathroom time", yet they think nothing, NOTHING, of walking right in on mine. But that ends today.
Slacker Mom Says...moms have rights, too. Sometimes, you do not have access to Mommy. Access Denied, Shop Closed for Repairs. If there's an emergency, if you have a serious problem that cannot wait, I'm absolutely there. Otherwise, the "closed for business" sign is going up now and then. And that's not being a bad mom, a neglectful mom. It's teaching our kids that WE matter, too, that Mom has rights and should be treated with at least as much respect and deference as anyone else - if not more! Most of the time, I'm fully available. But now and then, I'm not. Now and then, you can wait - or better yet, learn to do it yourself.
Or you can ask your dad. Preferably, when he's on the toilet or watching the big game.
Friday, May 14, 2010
The Myth of "You Can Have It All"
Countless books and articles have been written about our generation of women and our ability to have it "all" - the career, the man, the house, the kids. I won't rehash what's already been written ad naseum, but you know the drill: You can have a fabulous career doing your dream job; fall in love with the man of your dreams, who looks like Brad Pitt (before the recent unfortunate facial hair); have 2.5 beautiful, athletic, intelligent children; own a large, luxurious home with a dog and a cat and 2 fish; and still make it to every soccer game, school play, and ballet recital. All while looking like Heidi Klum or Elle MacPherson.
What a load of crap.
We've been sold a bill of goods that doesn't exist. No one can have it "ALL" - at least, not all at the same time. What a lot of pressure to put on women! As hard as we moms try, we cannot be all things to all people all of the time. It's not possible to work a 50-hour week, bake 5 dozen cupcakes for the PTA bake sale, throw the birthday party of the century, make love to your husband every night, and keep up with your house - unless you're the undead and don't need to sleep. Me? I'm tired just typing that sentence. I don't have it "all." I don't WANT it "all."
Truth is, we have to accept that it's enough to have some of these things at some time during some of our adult lives. We have to accept that whether we are working moms or at-home moms, or a combination of the two, we give something up to get something else. Hopefully, for each woman, what she gains is worth the sacrifices she makes. Choices are made, decisions are made, and we have to understand that anyone who expects us to HAVE it "all" or DO it "all" is, well, an idiot.
Besides, who's to say what "all" is? My best friend and her husband decided that she'd keep working days and he'd change to nights, because they didn't like the idea of daycare. She comes home, he leaves an hour later, and then he gets home long after she's in bed. They've sacrificed couple time during the week, but they make it work. (And they've made me a believer in the concept of "quality time.") My sister works part-time from home while her husband is working a traditional 8-5 schedule, giving them family time at night. Her son naps, her daughter goes to preschool, she runs around like a crazy woman fitting it all in - but gets to keep working AND be home, where she wants to be. My friend Enid and her husband decided it made more sense for him to take a leave of absence when their kids were small. He was their primary caregiver, and it's given him such a close relationship with his girls. It works for their family. My next-door neighbors work insane hours, plus have their own business, and rarely get home before 7 PM. But Grandma picks up the kids and keeps them after school. And they take fabulous extended-family vacations four times a year. The trade-off is worth it for them. (And my kids are positively green with envy. They are dying to take a Disney cruise or spend a week at Atlantis. but as a one-income family, that's not in the cards.)
Me? I married a fantastic man. (He's no Brad Pitt, thank goodness. Brad's not winning any awards for world's best husband, and he's always flying off around the world. No thanks.) I left my dream job - happily - when I had my first child. My husband's job is demanding and his hours somewhat unpredictable. He's not always around to help get kids off to school or cover in the evenings if I have a meeting. Most nights, our kids are asleep when he gets home. Child care and household duties are primarily MY responsibility, freeing him to do his job without having to worry about what's going on at home. I'm on it. That's my job. Yes, there are some sacrifices we make (I no longer wear designer clothes, our newest car is 6 years old, I haven't had a facial or manicure in years, and there's no trip to the Bahamas in our future), but it's worth it for our family, because it works for us.
And who knows how life will change? Five, ten years from now, your "all" may be different than it is right now. I've fallen, quite by accident, into this writing thing precisely because I AM home now. If I'd kept teaching, would I have discovered a passion for writing, would I have chosen a new career path? I don't think I'd have had the time or the energy.
If we work, we're going to miss something - a soccer game, a class party, a gymnastics meet. It's going to happen. And you know what? Our kids will be fine. Really, they will. If we stay home, we're going to miss something - a fantastic vacation, earlier retirement, newer cars, career advancement and job satisfaction. And you know what? Our kids will be fine.
And c'mon, do you really want to be at every class party? I'm the freakin' room mom, and I don't even want to be at all of them. And school plays? Really? Look around the cafeteria/auditorium. Notice the glazed-over eyes? Yeah, your 3:00 meeting WAS more exciting than a second-grade rendition of Peter Pan. Trust me. Three lattes later and I can barely keep my eyes open. And let's not even start in on a three-year-old's soccer game. Herding cats, that's what my husband calls it. A bunch of toddlers running around and picking dandelions (and their noses) is what I call it.
Slacker Mom Says...don't buy into the myth that you have to have it all right now. Who's to say what "all" is, what works for each family? Let's end the "Mommy Wars" and move on already! No matter what path we choose - career, being at home, a combination of both - our kids will be fine. Love them, hug them, let them know how proud you are. That's all they really need.
What a load of crap.
We've been sold a bill of goods that doesn't exist. No one can have it "ALL" - at least, not all at the same time. What a lot of pressure to put on women! As hard as we moms try, we cannot be all things to all people all of the time. It's not possible to work a 50-hour week, bake 5 dozen cupcakes for the PTA bake sale, throw the birthday party of the century, make love to your husband every night, and keep up with your house - unless you're the undead and don't need to sleep. Me? I'm tired just typing that sentence. I don't have it "all." I don't WANT it "all."
Truth is, we have to accept that it's enough to have some of these things at some time during some of our adult lives. We have to accept that whether we are working moms or at-home moms, or a combination of the two, we give something up to get something else. Hopefully, for each woman, what she gains is worth the sacrifices she makes. Choices are made, decisions are made, and we have to understand that anyone who expects us to HAVE it "all" or DO it "all" is, well, an idiot.
Besides, who's to say what "all" is? My best friend and her husband decided that she'd keep working days and he'd change to nights, because they didn't like the idea of daycare. She comes home, he leaves an hour later, and then he gets home long after she's in bed. They've sacrificed couple time during the week, but they make it work. (And they've made me a believer in the concept of "quality time.") My sister works part-time from home while her husband is working a traditional 8-5 schedule, giving them family time at night. Her son naps, her daughter goes to preschool, she runs around like a crazy woman fitting it all in - but gets to keep working AND be home, where she wants to be. My friend Enid and her husband decided it made more sense for him to take a leave of absence when their kids were small. He was their primary caregiver, and it's given him such a close relationship with his girls. It works for their family. My next-door neighbors work insane hours, plus have their own business, and rarely get home before 7 PM. But Grandma picks up the kids and keeps them after school. And they take fabulous extended-family vacations four times a year. The trade-off is worth it for them. (And my kids are positively green with envy. They are dying to take a Disney cruise or spend a week at Atlantis. but as a one-income family, that's not in the cards.)
Me? I married a fantastic man. (He's no Brad Pitt, thank goodness. Brad's not winning any awards for world's best husband, and he's always flying off around the world. No thanks.) I left my dream job - happily - when I had my first child. My husband's job is demanding and his hours somewhat unpredictable. He's not always around to help get kids off to school or cover in the evenings if I have a meeting. Most nights, our kids are asleep when he gets home. Child care and household duties are primarily MY responsibility, freeing him to do his job without having to worry about what's going on at home. I'm on it. That's my job. Yes, there are some sacrifices we make (I no longer wear designer clothes, our newest car is 6 years old, I haven't had a facial or manicure in years, and there's no trip to the Bahamas in our future), but it's worth it for our family, because it works for us.
And who knows how life will change? Five, ten years from now, your "all" may be different than it is right now. I've fallen, quite by accident, into this writing thing precisely because I AM home now. If I'd kept teaching, would I have discovered a passion for writing, would I have chosen a new career path? I don't think I'd have had the time or the energy.
If we work, we're going to miss something - a soccer game, a class party, a gymnastics meet. It's going to happen. And you know what? Our kids will be fine. Really, they will. If we stay home, we're going to miss something - a fantastic vacation, earlier retirement, newer cars, career advancement and job satisfaction. And you know what? Our kids will be fine.
And c'mon, do you really want to be at every class party? I'm the freakin' room mom, and I don't even want to be at all of them. And school plays? Really? Look around the cafeteria/auditorium. Notice the glazed-over eyes? Yeah, your 3:00 meeting WAS more exciting than a second-grade rendition of Peter Pan. Trust me. Three lattes later and I can barely keep my eyes open. And let's not even start in on a three-year-old's soccer game. Herding cats, that's what my husband calls it. A bunch of toddlers running around and picking dandelions (and their noses) is what I call it.
Slacker Mom Says...don't buy into the myth that you have to have it all right now. Who's to say what "all" is, what works for each family? Let's end the "Mommy Wars" and move on already! No matter what path we choose - career, being at home, a combination of both - our kids will be fine. Love them, hug them, let them know how proud you are. That's all they really need.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Empty Threats (Or Lies I've Told My Kids)
On a recent Sunday afternoon, I took my girls to our local zoo. We have one of those unlimited attraction memberships that allows us - at no additional cost - to feed giraffes and lorikeets, ride the ponies and the carousel, climb a rock wall, watch a 3D movie, and take a train ride - over and over and over again, world without end, amen. (What ever happened to just looking at the animals?!?) But eventually hunger won out over the allure of free pony rides, and since I hadn't had to shell out $2 for a handful of limp lettuce at the giraffe feeding platform, I agreed to spring for lunch. The girls, with all the enthusiasm of kids who are rarely allowed to eat fast food, opted for the Kenya Cafe.
Two orders of overpriced chicken tenders and greasy fries later, we were seated at a window booth overlooking the alligator enclosure. (Yeah, THAT'S the perfect place to eat chicken. Watching a hand-fed alligator whose main diet is - of course - chicken. Smart.) It was a drizzly day, and still fairly early, so there weren't that many diners in the cafe yet. But one family stood out, and not only because they were sitting right behind us. No, this particular family could be easily recognized by the incessant screaming of their three young children and the shrill response of the adults as "Parents Who Make Empty Threats that Everyone in a Three-Mile Radius Knows They Have No Intention of Carrying Out."
Now, usually Slacker Mom is all about the love. Do what works for you; don't judge other parents; no one knows what is really going on in another family. But seriously, these parents were just about the most annoying adults I've encountered in a long, long time. Two little boys, who looked to be about 3 and 5, sat at the table with their parents. A younger child sat in the stroller, flinging food out and screaming at the top of his lungs. Great, I thought, lunch AND a show. Ignoring the screaming and the politely curious looks of the other diners (this is the South, after all, and no one would be outright rude), Dad kept pushing the chicken on one kid ("One more bite! One more bite! Then you can have a chip!"); Mom was pushing a sandwich on the other ("Please? Please? For Mommy?"). As she got more and more frustrated, and the kids got more and more vocal about their feelings regarding lunch, Mom's speech went something like this: "You asked for the sandwich so you have to eat it. You promised you'd eat the sandwich after you had the cookies, so now you have to keep your word. If you don't keep your word, you can't have TV or dessert all week." Dad's was along the same lines, but with a "no one will ever trust you again if you don't keep your word" twist. Pretty harsh for preschoolers, but hey, who am I to judge? I've been guilty of over-explaining things a time or two myself.
But after approximately 47 versions of the same lecture, I wanted to turn around and say, "Geez! What, are you new at this? You gave them the cookies first. It's over. Call it a day, and next time, lunch first and dessert after!" But just as I was about to give in to the urge to at least turn around and glare meaningfully at the parents (hey, I'm not from here - I have no problem being rude now and then), I heard a little voice behind me say, "So, if I eat another bite, can I have some more cookies? And watch TV later?"
And of course, the parents agreed, as everyone around them knew they would. The family packed it up and left, discussing what movie the boys wanted to rent on the way home from the zoo.
And as much as I wanted to sit in judgement of their poor parenting skills, instead, I started thinking: am I guilty of the same thing? Do I threaten my kids with ridiculous punishments? Do I bribe them? Do I fail to enforce consequences for misbehavior or for poor choices?
The short answer to that question is yes. The long answer is yes, but only when I've realized that my original punishment is too harsh, or will punish me more than the guilty party, or will take away from our valuable family time, or when I'm really really mad and not thinking as clearly as I should - or when I forget what I said in the first place (one of the perils of being an older mom). But still - the answer is yes. And I want it to be no. I really, REALLY want it to be no. I want my kids to know that when I say something, that's the way it is. I want them to know that they can count on my word as being true and final and reliable. I once heard someone say that if you don't follow through with consequences, you've lied to your kids. Sounds kind of harsh, but I understand what he means. If I say no playtime until chores are done, I need to follow through and check to see that things are done properly BEFORE I let the kids off the hook, rather than going back and yelling at them later. If I say, "Clean your rooms before the movie," I need to get off my butt, go upstairs, and check under the beds and in the closets before handing over the remote. And when I dole out justice, whether it's a natural consequence or an actual punishment, I have to make sure - beforehand - that it's something I am willing to enforce. If the consequence is more unpleasant for me to enforce than it is for the child to endure, what's the point?
I once told my daughters that I would cancel Christmas if they kept fighting. Really? I LOVE Christmas, and I would NEVER do that. But I was at that breaking point where I just couldn't stand the bickering for one more second. A string of difficult mornings with kids who didn't want to get out of bed found me threatening to make them ride the school bus if they weren't ready to leave on time. (Now, before anyone gets upset and says that riding the bus is no punishment, let me say this: My kids aren't even up yet when the bus comes past my house at 6:36 each morning, because school starts at 7:40. We live 5 minutes from school. So yeah, it WOULD be a punishment.) But how would THAT solve anything? I'd be the one getting up even earlier! Yet another frustrated afternoon of jamming uncooperative little toes into ballet tights led to my empty promise to pull them out of the dance recital - after hundreds of dollars spent on lessons, shoes, costumes, and photos. Like I'd do that. All that time and money wasted, and for what? Because a 5-year-old had a hard time with the seam of her tights? How much better would it have been to make light of the situation, to say, "Tell your piggies to get inside those tights! Your ballet shoes are lonely!" and make her giggle rather than cry?
No, those empty threats and ridiculous comments say more about my frustrations as a parent, about my sleep deficit level, about my overall state of mind than they do about my kids' behavior. They're good kids, but they're kids. As my friend Jen says, you can't expect them to get in one day or one year what we've finally understood after 30-some years. They weren't born middle-aged, they were born brand-spanking new. They need time to figure out how to navigate the world. And let's face it, my mood determines the tone of the day, the mood in my home.
Slacker Mom Says... mean what you say and say what you mean. It's so easy to make empty threats, to give convoluted and unrealistic punishments that we know, as we say them, that we're never going to uphold. We all do it at some point, and we all know we do it. I'm vowing to stop right now. The next time I want to threaten to throw away all their toys because no one cleaned up the playroom, I'll remember that my agenda is just that: mine. Just because I want them to do something, it doesn't mean that they care at all about my timeline. A little patience and a sense of humor go a long way.
Two orders of overpriced chicken tenders and greasy fries later, we were seated at a window booth overlooking the alligator enclosure. (Yeah, THAT'S the perfect place to eat chicken. Watching a hand-fed alligator whose main diet is - of course - chicken. Smart.) It was a drizzly day, and still fairly early, so there weren't that many diners in the cafe yet. But one family stood out, and not only because they were sitting right behind us. No, this particular family could be easily recognized by the incessant screaming of their three young children and the shrill response of the adults as "Parents Who Make Empty Threats that Everyone in a Three-Mile Radius Knows They Have No Intention of Carrying Out."
Now, usually Slacker Mom is all about the love. Do what works for you; don't judge other parents; no one knows what is really going on in another family. But seriously, these parents were just about the most annoying adults I've encountered in a long, long time. Two little boys, who looked to be about 3 and 5, sat at the table with their parents. A younger child sat in the stroller, flinging food out and screaming at the top of his lungs. Great, I thought, lunch AND a show. Ignoring the screaming and the politely curious looks of the other diners (this is the South, after all, and no one would be outright rude), Dad kept pushing the chicken on one kid ("One more bite! One more bite! Then you can have a chip!"); Mom was pushing a sandwich on the other ("Please? Please? For Mommy?"). As she got more and more frustrated, and the kids got more and more vocal about their feelings regarding lunch, Mom's speech went something like this: "You asked for the sandwich so you have to eat it. You promised you'd eat the sandwich after you had the cookies, so now you have to keep your word. If you don't keep your word, you can't have TV or dessert all week." Dad's was along the same lines, but with a "no one will ever trust you again if you don't keep your word" twist. Pretty harsh for preschoolers, but hey, who am I to judge? I've been guilty of over-explaining things a time or two myself.
But after approximately 47 versions of the same lecture, I wanted to turn around and say, "Geez! What, are you new at this? You gave them the cookies first. It's over. Call it a day, and next time, lunch first and dessert after!" But just as I was about to give in to the urge to at least turn around and glare meaningfully at the parents (hey, I'm not from here - I have no problem being rude now and then), I heard a little voice behind me say, "So, if I eat another bite, can I have some more cookies? And watch TV later?"
And of course, the parents agreed, as everyone around them knew they would. The family packed it up and left, discussing what movie the boys wanted to rent on the way home from the zoo.
And as much as I wanted to sit in judgement of their poor parenting skills, instead, I started thinking: am I guilty of the same thing? Do I threaten my kids with ridiculous punishments? Do I bribe them? Do I fail to enforce consequences for misbehavior or for poor choices?
The short answer to that question is yes. The long answer is yes, but only when I've realized that my original punishment is too harsh, or will punish me more than the guilty party, or will take away from our valuable family time, or when I'm really really mad and not thinking as clearly as I should - or when I forget what I said in the first place (one of the perils of being an older mom). But still - the answer is yes. And I want it to be no. I really, REALLY want it to be no. I want my kids to know that when I say something, that's the way it is. I want them to know that they can count on my word as being true and final and reliable. I once heard someone say that if you don't follow through with consequences, you've lied to your kids. Sounds kind of harsh, but I understand what he means. If I say no playtime until chores are done, I need to follow through and check to see that things are done properly BEFORE I let the kids off the hook, rather than going back and yelling at them later. If I say, "Clean your rooms before the movie," I need to get off my butt, go upstairs, and check under the beds and in the closets before handing over the remote. And when I dole out justice, whether it's a natural consequence or an actual punishment, I have to make sure - beforehand - that it's something I am willing to enforce. If the consequence is more unpleasant for me to enforce than it is for the child to endure, what's the point?
I once told my daughters that I would cancel Christmas if they kept fighting. Really? I LOVE Christmas, and I would NEVER do that. But I was at that breaking point where I just couldn't stand the bickering for one more second. A string of difficult mornings with kids who didn't want to get out of bed found me threatening to make them ride the school bus if they weren't ready to leave on time. (Now, before anyone gets upset and says that riding the bus is no punishment, let me say this: My kids aren't even up yet when the bus comes past my house at 6:36 each morning, because school starts at 7:40. We live 5 minutes from school. So yeah, it WOULD be a punishment.) But how would THAT solve anything? I'd be the one getting up even earlier! Yet another frustrated afternoon of jamming uncooperative little toes into ballet tights led to my empty promise to pull them out of the dance recital - after hundreds of dollars spent on lessons, shoes, costumes, and photos. Like I'd do that. All that time and money wasted, and for what? Because a 5-year-old had a hard time with the seam of her tights? How much better would it have been to make light of the situation, to say, "Tell your piggies to get inside those tights! Your ballet shoes are lonely!" and make her giggle rather than cry?
No, those empty threats and ridiculous comments say more about my frustrations as a parent, about my sleep deficit level, about my overall state of mind than they do about my kids' behavior. They're good kids, but they're kids. As my friend Jen says, you can't expect them to get in one day or one year what we've finally understood after 30-some years. They weren't born middle-aged, they were born brand-spanking new. They need time to figure out how to navigate the world. And let's face it, my mood determines the tone of the day, the mood in my home.
Slacker Mom Says... mean what you say and say what you mean. It's so easy to make empty threats, to give convoluted and unrealistic punishments that we know, as we say them, that we're never going to uphold. We all do it at some point, and we all know we do it. I'm vowing to stop right now. The next time I want to threaten to throw away all their toys because no one cleaned up the playroom, I'll remember that my agenda is just that: mine. Just because I want them to do something, it doesn't mean that they care at all about my timeline. A little patience and a sense of humor go a long way.
Friday, April 9, 2010
"Are We There Yet?" is a 4-Letter Word
A recent episode of "The New Adventures of Old Christine" showcased an ill-fated attempt at a family vacation. Delayed flights, crazy routings, lost IDs, snotty airline personnel, family tensions - it was all there. But what really caught my attention was this: Christine's 13-year-old son wanted to bring his Nintendo DS, and his mom wouldn't let him, saying, "This is a family vacation! We're going to talk and spend time together!" His response? "Talk? What? You ruin everything!"
Really? His life is ruined because he's not allowed to take his video game along on a family vacation? I thought this line was a little over the top - until I started asking around. Most of my mommy friends confirmed that when they travel, their kids have cell phones, iPods, DVD players, video games, you name it. The backseat of the family car has become a fully-equipped media center. No one needs to talk to each other. Kids don't even have to cooperate and decide which movie to watch, because most of their cars now have dual-screen DVD players. And Mom doesn't even have to listen to the soundtrack of the Hannah Montana movie for the 725th time, because each child has her own headphones, too.
This new concept of entertainment stands in stark contrast to the vacations most of us remember. Family vacations of my childhood were decidedly unplugged. My parents would put down the back seats of the station wagon, we'd all unroll our sleeping bags, and the party would begin. We didn't have electronic gadgets to divert our attention from the scenery. There were no dual-screen DVD players - in fact, no TV of any kind. No, we had to create our own fun in the backseat. The license plate game, Mad Libs, a rousing rendition of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" (or something even less appropriate that my parents couldn't hear, like "My Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Burning of the School"), negotiating for each other's Slim Jim or Bubblicious stashes, or even - gasp - READING a BOOK! Sometimes my brothers would introduce a super-fun game called "Roly Poly" - you know, the one where they'd sit on either side of me, and as we rounded a corner, they'd squish me in between them. Fun.
Yes, we got on each others' nerves, but we quickly learned to get along and find something fairly quiet to do - or face the dreaded "if I have to stop this car..." threat. (I'm not sure what my parents would've done if they'd had to pull over, but back then, the threat alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of children of all ages. We never found out, but we never WANTED to find out.) Sometimes we got bored, yes, but God forbid we say that out loud - our parents would start "entertaining" us with show tunes or long, boring stories about their childhood tribulations. (You know, walking to school, 3 miles, in the snow. Uphill. Both ways. You get the picture.) No, it was much safer to entertain ourselves and each other. But you know what? I don't have a single childhood memory that doesn't involve my brothers. Our family vacations? True family moments. We fought, and made up, and shared, and played, and interacted with each other. Isn't that what we want for our kids?
Now, I'm not advocating abandoning seat belts and booster seats here (or threatening your kids, although we've all been there), but why do we feel the need to constantly provide entertainment for our kids? Why can't they entertain themselves? And why do so many kids sit isolated, plugged in, during "family" time?
For my kids? It's kind of sink or swim when we travel. They'd better find a way to entertain themselves, because I don't want to hear the words "Are we there yet?" (Um, did I stop the car? Is the plane still flying? Then no, we're not there yet!) or "I'm bored!" (Really? I'm driving; you're playing. Who's bored? That's right. Zip it.) We don't have a built-in DVD player. (We do have a portable DVD player, but I can't figure out how to install it in the car - so my kids don't get to watch movies on long car rides. And I can't find the battery pack, so they can't take it on the plane. What can I say? I'm a slacker.) My kids don't have iPods, cell phones, or a DS. My cell phone has no games, music, or internet access. Nope, when we travel - by car or by air - my kids listen to CDs, audio books, the radio. And they are subjected to my singing along to their music. My kids read, color, play magnetic games. They make up elaborate stories. Color Wonder, Colorforms, pipe cleaners and beads, Polly Pockets - these are the staples of my girls' carry-ons. My kids talk to each other - and to me. Sure, I've had to get creative at times: Airsick bags make great hats for stuffed animals; stickers plus craft sticks equals instant puppet show. And never underestimate the power of a really good book. But bored? I don't want to hear it. If you're bored, it's your own fault.
Slacker Mom Says... let's all stop trying to play Vegas-style entertainer for our kids when we travel. They can find something to do! Let's bring back the family conversation, the license plate game, I Spy, and Twenty Questions. Let's find ways to truly spend time together, even on the long and boring drive to Disney World in the July heat. I'm not saying you can't pack the electronics; I'm just saying let's not rely on them totally. Families are so busy these days; let's take any opportunity we can to spend real time together. We're building the memories of a lifetime here. Besides, subjecting our kids to our singing and storytelling will give them something to complain to their friends about after they get back home.
Really? His life is ruined because he's not allowed to take his video game along on a family vacation? I thought this line was a little over the top - until I started asking around. Most of my mommy friends confirmed that when they travel, their kids have cell phones, iPods, DVD players, video games, you name it. The backseat of the family car has become a fully-equipped media center. No one needs to talk to each other. Kids don't even have to cooperate and decide which movie to watch, because most of their cars now have dual-screen DVD players. And Mom doesn't even have to listen to the soundtrack of the Hannah Montana movie for the 725th time, because each child has her own headphones, too.
This new concept of entertainment stands in stark contrast to the vacations most of us remember. Family vacations of my childhood were decidedly unplugged. My parents would put down the back seats of the station wagon, we'd all unroll our sleeping bags, and the party would begin. We didn't have electronic gadgets to divert our attention from the scenery. There were no dual-screen DVD players - in fact, no TV of any kind. No, we had to create our own fun in the backseat. The license plate game, Mad Libs, a rousing rendition of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" (or something even less appropriate that my parents couldn't hear, like "My Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Burning of the School"), negotiating for each other's Slim Jim or Bubblicious stashes, or even - gasp - READING a BOOK! Sometimes my brothers would introduce a super-fun game called "Roly Poly" - you know, the one where they'd sit on either side of me, and as we rounded a corner, they'd squish me in between them. Fun.
Yes, we got on each others' nerves, but we quickly learned to get along and find something fairly quiet to do - or face the dreaded "if I have to stop this car..." threat. (I'm not sure what my parents would've done if they'd had to pull over, but back then, the threat alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of children of all ages. We never found out, but we never WANTED to find out.) Sometimes we got bored, yes, but God forbid we say that out loud - our parents would start "entertaining" us with show tunes or long, boring stories about their childhood tribulations. (You know, walking to school, 3 miles, in the snow. Uphill. Both ways. You get the picture.) No, it was much safer to entertain ourselves and each other. But you know what? I don't have a single childhood memory that doesn't involve my brothers. Our family vacations? True family moments. We fought, and made up, and shared, and played, and interacted with each other. Isn't that what we want for our kids?
Now, I'm not advocating abandoning seat belts and booster seats here (or threatening your kids, although we've all been there), but why do we feel the need to constantly provide entertainment for our kids? Why can't they entertain themselves? And why do so many kids sit isolated, plugged in, during "family" time?
For my kids? It's kind of sink or swim when we travel. They'd better find a way to entertain themselves, because I don't want to hear the words "Are we there yet?" (Um, did I stop the car? Is the plane still flying? Then no, we're not there yet!) or "I'm bored!" (Really? I'm driving; you're playing. Who's bored? That's right. Zip it.) We don't have a built-in DVD player. (We do have a portable DVD player, but I can't figure out how to install it in the car - so my kids don't get to watch movies on long car rides. And I can't find the battery pack, so they can't take it on the plane. What can I say? I'm a slacker.) My kids don't have iPods, cell phones, or a DS. My cell phone has no games, music, or internet access. Nope, when we travel - by car or by air - my kids listen to CDs, audio books, the radio. And they are subjected to my singing along to their music. My kids read, color, play magnetic games. They make up elaborate stories. Color Wonder, Colorforms, pipe cleaners and beads, Polly Pockets - these are the staples of my girls' carry-ons. My kids talk to each other - and to me. Sure, I've had to get creative at times: Airsick bags make great hats for stuffed animals; stickers plus craft sticks equals instant puppet show. And never underestimate the power of a really good book. But bored? I don't want to hear it. If you're bored, it's your own fault.
Slacker Mom Says... let's all stop trying to play Vegas-style entertainer for our kids when we travel. They can find something to do! Let's bring back the family conversation, the license plate game, I Spy, and Twenty Questions. Let's find ways to truly spend time together, even on the long and boring drive to Disney World in the July heat. I'm not saying you can't pack the electronics; I'm just saying let's not rely on them totally. Families are so busy these days; let's take any opportunity we can to spend real time together. We're building the memories of a lifetime here. Besides, subjecting our kids to our singing and storytelling will give them something to complain to their friends about after they get back home.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
On Twilight and Marriage...
It's Spring Break! And you know what that means - yes, this week marks exactly one year since I became obsessed with all things Twilight. (You thought I was going to mention the beach, vacation, that type of thing, didn't you? Yes, we are going to the beach, and yes, it's nice to have the kids off school, but let's get our priorities straight, shall we?)
Resistant at first, I quickly fell under Stephenie Meyer's spell. It was Nina who first tried to recruit me for Team Edward. I'm not going to lie to you; I thought the entire concept was stupid. I'm not a teenaged girl; I'm not into vampires. No, I told her for weeks, I'm not reading a book that was a Teen People "Hot List" pick. And I've read enough of her "must-read" Nicholas Sparks books to know that we may be best friends but we do NOT share the same interest in books. (Before the Sparks fans get upset with me: he's a good story teller, I'll give you that, but his writing is repetitive, formulaic, and predictable.) But after weeks of daily phone calls, she finally wore me down. I bought the first book, Twilight, fully expecting to roll my eyes and make fun of her. I mean, really - teen girl falls in love with teen vampire. Whatever.
And then I read the entire series in eight days. The entire series. All four books. All 1,690 pages. In e-i-g-h-t days.
Once I started, it was un-put-down-able. My kids were fed and clothed and (relatively) clean, but I was completely obsessed. I read while I ironed, while waiting in the carpool line, while my kids and husband watched TV; I stayed up hours past my bedtime every night. I devoured each and every word, bought the next book well before I finished the previous one, and rented the movie version of Twilight - which I'd refused to see when it first came out. Compelling, mesmerizing, captivating storytelling, along with good writing, good dialogue, good imagery.
Yes, they're vampires. Yes, it's teen love. But it's so much more than that. I think what draws women, adult women, to this story, is the fact that against all odds, against all common sense, against the rules of society and science and nature, two people feel so strongly for each other that they are compelled to be together. What speaks to women, the young and the middle-aged alike, is the idea of a love so destined, so magnetic, that nothing can keep them apart. Not the fact that she's the police chief's daughter and that he's a danger to society; not the disapproval of their families and friends. They would rather die than be without each other. They would do anything to protect each other. Despite the odds against them, despite the challenges they face, they are compelled to be together, drawn by a love so deep it feels out of their control. Nothing can keep them apart. It's more than passion, or attraction, or mere lust - no, Bella and Edward are meant for each other, destined to be together, regardless of what happens around them, to them, because of them.
What woman wouldn't want a man to feel that way about her?
But though I love the books, and am currently on my fourth reading (hey, the movie version of Eclipse is coming out soon and I need to be prepared), I can separate fact from fiction. I may be fairly obsessed and have an old-lady crush on Edward, but I also know that real-life love, married love, takes time, effort, work. The books may be marketed at teen girls, but I doubt any teenager can truly understand a love so deep. All of us have experienced crushes, first love, puppy love - but what Bella and Edward share is so much deeper than that. And hopefully, what we have with our husbands is much deeper than that, too. It's mature love, a love born out of shared experiences, a love that comes from facing trials and troubles together. It's the kind of love that holds your hand in the delivery room when you are certainly not looking your best; the kind of love that gets a man up in the middle of the night with a scared child so you can sleep a little longer; the kind of love that lets us know this man would literally lay down his life for his children and wife. It's grown-up love.
A marriage is a give-and-take, an ongoing compromise, between two people who have committed themselves for life. Sometimes things are good; sometimes things are less good. Sometimes things are just, well, dull and staid and boring. But that's real life. Real life isn't always exciting, invigorating. Paying bills, driving carpool, making dinner - this is not the stuff of romance. But it's the stuff of life, of family life; it's what bonds us together. Yes, it's important to have those "grand gestures" in a marriage. But it's the small things, the little daily gestures, that speak to a deep, meaningful life together. As my friend Janet (whose husband introduced me to mine) says, "Attraction is important, but that initial passion will fade. You have to work to keep it alive. And in the end, I'd rather have a man who will wipe the baby puke out of my hair than one who'd buy me diamonds but sleep through the stomach flu." Well-said. Me, too.
Slacker Mom Says...real life is not a movie or a book. Real life isn't always exciting. A marriage is what we make it, after all. I may be obsessed with Edward and Bella's love story, but I still make time for MY love story. I'm not sure I believe in destiny and fate, but I do believe in forever, and in my husband, and in our love for each other. We'll keep working at it, keep challenging each other, keep loving each other. He's no vampire, and I'm not a teenaged girl, but we belong together.
And besides, when I'm in full Twilight obsession mode, he reaps the full benefits of my Edward-induced, romance-fueled attitude. When I read or watch anything Twilight-related - well, think about it. I'm just sayin'.
Resistant at first, I quickly fell under Stephenie Meyer's spell. It was Nina who first tried to recruit me for Team Edward. I'm not going to lie to you; I thought the entire concept was stupid. I'm not a teenaged girl; I'm not into vampires. No, I told her for weeks, I'm not reading a book that was a Teen People "Hot List" pick. And I've read enough of her "must-read" Nicholas Sparks books to know that we may be best friends but we do NOT share the same interest in books. (Before the Sparks fans get upset with me: he's a good story teller, I'll give you that, but his writing is repetitive, formulaic, and predictable.) But after weeks of daily phone calls, she finally wore me down. I bought the first book, Twilight, fully expecting to roll my eyes and make fun of her. I mean, really - teen girl falls in love with teen vampire. Whatever.
And then I read the entire series in eight days. The entire series. All four books. All 1,690 pages. In e-i-g-h-t days.
Once I started, it was un-put-down-able. My kids were fed and clothed and (relatively) clean, but I was completely obsessed. I read while I ironed, while waiting in the carpool line, while my kids and husband watched TV; I stayed up hours past my bedtime every night. I devoured each and every word, bought the next book well before I finished the previous one, and rented the movie version of Twilight - which I'd refused to see when it first came out. Compelling, mesmerizing, captivating storytelling, along with good writing, good dialogue, good imagery.
Yes, they're vampires. Yes, it's teen love. But it's so much more than that. I think what draws women, adult women, to this story, is the fact that against all odds, against all common sense, against the rules of society and science and nature, two people feel so strongly for each other that they are compelled to be together. What speaks to women, the young and the middle-aged alike, is the idea of a love so destined, so magnetic, that nothing can keep them apart. Not the fact that she's the police chief's daughter and that he's a danger to society; not the disapproval of their families and friends. They would rather die than be without each other. They would do anything to protect each other. Despite the odds against them, despite the challenges they face, they are compelled to be together, drawn by a love so deep it feels out of their control. Nothing can keep them apart. It's more than passion, or attraction, or mere lust - no, Bella and Edward are meant for each other, destined to be together, regardless of what happens around them, to them, because of them.
What woman wouldn't want a man to feel that way about her?
But though I love the books, and am currently on my fourth reading (hey, the movie version of Eclipse is coming out soon and I need to be prepared), I can separate fact from fiction. I may be fairly obsessed and have an old-lady crush on Edward, but I also know that real-life love, married love, takes time, effort, work. The books may be marketed at teen girls, but I doubt any teenager can truly understand a love so deep. All of us have experienced crushes, first love, puppy love - but what Bella and Edward share is so much deeper than that. And hopefully, what we have with our husbands is much deeper than that, too. It's mature love, a love born out of shared experiences, a love that comes from facing trials and troubles together. It's the kind of love that holds your hand in the delivery room when you are certainly not looking your best; the kind of love that gets a man up in the middle of the night with a scared child so you can sleep a little longer; the kind of love that lets us know this man would literally lay down his life for his children and wife. It's grown-up love.
A marriage is a give-and-take, an ongoing compromise, between two people who have committed themselves for life. Sometimes things are good; sometimes things are less good. Sometimes things are just, well, dull and staid and boring. But that's real life. Real life isn't always exciting, invigorating. Paying bills, driving carpool, making dinner - this is not the stuff of romance. But it's the stuff of life, of family life; it's what bonds us together. Yes, it's important to have those "grand gestures" in a marriage. But it's the small things, the little daily gestures, that speak to a deep, meaningful life together. As my friend Janet (whose husband introduced me to mine) says, "Attraction is important, but that initial passion will fade. You have to work to keep it alive. And in the end, I'd rather have a man who will wipe the baby puke out of my hair than one who'd buy me diamonds but sleep through the stomach flu." Well-said. Me, too.
Slacker Mom Says...real life is not a movie or a book. Real life isn't always exciting. A marriage is what we make it, after all. I may be obsessed with Edward and Bella's love story, but I still make time for MY love story. I'm not sure I believe in destiny and fate, but I do believe in forever, and in my husband, and in our love for each other. We'll keep working at it, keep challenging each other, keep loving each other. He's no vampire, and I'm not a teenaged girl, but we belong together.
And besides, when I'm in full Twilight obsession mode, he reaps the full benefits of my Edward-induced, romance-fueled attitude. When I read or watch anything Twilight-related - well, think about it. I'm just sayin'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)