Since first grade started, my sweet six-year-old has a new habit: about 10 minutes after I make it downstairs after putting the kids to bed, she shows up in the kitchen (where I still have at least a half-hour's worth of work ahead - dishes, lunches, etc) and says, "I can't fall ASLEEP!" I end up walking her back upstairs, tucking her in, putting her covers over her ear (don't ask; it's one of her few quirks so I just go with it) and close her door. No big deal, right?
Wrong. It's been every couple of nights for a month now, and no matter how much my thighs thank her for the increased stair-climbing sessions, I'm pretty darn tired of putting kids to bed twice. So I told her that from now on, I'm only putting her to bed once. If she gets up after that, she's going to have to put herself back to bed. I'm off-duty after 7:30 PM. (Except of course for the ever-annoying reading logs. And packing lunches. And folding laundry. But I digress.)
Did my "get tough" plan work? Well, yes - as long as my husband isn't home yet. If she comes down and her daddy's there, all my hard work goes out the window. All she has to do is turn those big blue eyes up at her daddy, and he's carrying her back to bed. Part of me wants to say, "What are you DOING? I've worked hard to get my point across!" But the other part of me says, "So what? I said that I wouldn't put her back to bed. I never said NO ONE would go up with her!"
The bottom line is, she's only 6. And he's away from her all day long, usually arriving home after the children are asleep. So if he wants to walk upstairs with her, hear a little bit about her day, give her some extra cuddles and kisses, does it matter? Sure, she needs her rest. Yes, it's important for her to get in bed and stay there. But I suspect that her "I can't fall asleep" is more about needing a little more one-on-one attention after a long day away from home and less about being unable to fall asleep - or breaking the rules. And who am I, with my seemingly-arbitrary rules about bedtime, to take that time away from a daddy and his daughter?
There are times that I am waiting, desperately, for bedtime to come, days when I think, "I can't wait to get these kids in bed so that I can relax for a few minutes and have some peace and quiet." But lately, time seems to speed up. I look at pictures from just a few years ago and think, "Where did those babies go?" My oldest is starting to think about boys, wants to wear lipgloss to school, and gets mad when her dad wants to walk her to her classroom door. My baby doesn't need me to tie her shoes or brush her teeth anymore. They can shower alone, wipe themselves, unload a dishwasher. Gone are the days of total dependence on me - and I'm not sure I like it. It's gone too fast. I haven't appreciated it or enjoyed it enough.
Slacker Mom Says... don't rush the small stuff. Extra hugs, kisses, wiping noses and bottoms and faces - it'll be over all too fast. No mom ever regretted giving one more kiss, one more cuddle, one more "I love you!" before bedtime. But I can tell you this: I do regret every harsh word uttered in impatience, every "hurry up!" muttered as we tried to get under the covers "on time", every night where I rushed them into bed so I could get back downstairs to finish the dishes. I wish I'd let the dishes sit and told them one more story about my childhood, or read one more book, or that I'd sung their songs to them one extra time. Soon enough, no one will want me to read Goodnight Moon or Time For Bed, and I'll have plenty of time for dishes - and won't that be awful?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Not Only is the Grass Not Greener, it's Probably Dead (Or Married)
Last week, I spent a few days in LA, where I grew up. I moved away years ago, but my sister and my parents still live there, so I find myself making the pilgrimmage every year or so. One afternoon at my sister's house, while my niece colored quietly and my nephew chased the puppy around (nature vs. nurture, my ass) my sister and I commiserated a bit about our husbands and their annoying habits. We joked about how hard men can be to live with at times, and how sometimes we think it would be easier without them around. Her friend Amy, who'd stopped by for the afternoon, was not amused. She decided to share some stories to show that the grass is NOT necessarily greener.
Now, I've known Amy since she was about 14. The fact that she's old enough to date, let alone vote and own her own home, still surprises me. But Amy has remained, despite several long term relationships, a fascinating job on a cruise ship, and a stint in the Big Apple ala Sex and the City, the quintessential single girl. Me? I've been with my husband for 15 years, married 12, so I can no longer remember what dating is like. Or maybe I've just blocked it out of my memory, both the good parts (first kisses! waiting for the phone to ring! meeting interesting people!) and the bad ones (first kisses! waiting for the phone to ring! meeting people you think are interesting but who, it turns out, still work at the video store and live in their mother's basement because they peaked in high school!). But I digress.
Amy, it seems, has recently begun using a dating service. Not your average online dating service where everyone's photo is 10 years and 30 pounds out of date, but an actual matchmaking service - sort of like having someone's grandmother set you up with nice boys from her church but cooler, less embarrassing, and more expensive. Naturally, being the curious (read: nosy) type, as well as needing to live vicariously through someone, I begged for stories. Why a matchmaking service? Why not just meet guys the old-fashioned way, ie getting drunk at a bar and scrawling your phone number on his arm with lipstick? (Tells you how long I've been out of the game. My babysitter tells me everyone just dials their own cell from the guy's cell so they have each other's numbers. Now that's no fun. Can't "fake number" anyone anymore.) So Amy, in an effort to oblige me (and probably to thank me for years of being their only source of beer while they were underage), regaled me with her own "Greatest Hits - or Misses - in Dating."
Trust me, you will never underappreciate your husbands again.
Bachelor #1: While living in New York, she meets someone who lives in Jersey. (Now, even if you've never lived on the East Coast, you should know enough about New Jersey stereotypes to see where this is going.) For their first date, he doesn't want to leave Jersey ("Why would anyone willingly go to Manhattan?" he asks, knowing that she lives and works near Wall Street) and he insists on meeting only for a drink "to see how it goes" - then goes to the wrong bar and calls her cell to yell at her for standing him up. (See, the last time I was dating, no one had cell phones. So in this case, I'd have left, thinking he didn't show, and he'd never have called me again, thinking I'd ditched him. Problem solved.) Meanwhile, she's in the right bar, sitting at a table, waiting for him. He finally shows up,an hour late, goes to the bar (rather than ordering from the waitress, thereby avoiding having to pay for HER drink, too) and orders a white wine spritzer. Um, a white wine spritzer? Could he BE less manly? I don't care how much you hate beer, order a damn Heineken and pretend to drink it. When the waitress comes by and asks, "Would you like to order any food?" he barks, "No! I already ate!" without giving Amy a chance to order - even though he knew she came straight from work. A few f-bombs later, and she's ready to fake a heart attack just to get out of there. Date over, Loser. Don't call me again.
Bachelor #2: This charming fellow, recently divorced, spends the entire evening talking about how he can't wait to get married again, how he loves being married, how he can't stand being single. Red flag, anyone? Can you say desperate and needy? When they leave the restaurant, he walks Amy to his car and says, "Check out my car. Wanna take a ride? I'll take you anywhere you want to go, Baby." The "ew" factor aside, like she's going to get in the car with a guy she barely knows. Appealing to the fact that he has 2 teenage daughters, she asks, "Would you want your daughters to get in a car with a man they barely know?" His response? "Whatever. I'm sure they already have." And laughs like a lech. The clincher? He's still married. Separated, but not divorced. She tells him she's "not feeling the chemistry" and "doesn't want to lead him on", but he calls and texts for days before she finally changes her number.
Bachelor #3: Think the third time's the charm? Think again. This guy's idea of a dream date was to invite Amy to watch him play hockey, then take her to the rink's bar for a beer - without showering first. Ever sat next to a guy when he comes off the ice? I have. It's not pretty. I'd rather clean up a room full of other people's puking kids.
Ladies, this is what's out there.
Thus, the new matchmaking service. It's an interesting approach: they send 3 men and 3 women out on a group date. Less pressure, more people to keep the conversation going, fewer awkward silences. Sounds good, right? Wrong. Not a love connection. But on a positive note, she likes one of the other women so much they end up having lunch and dissecting the 3 guys on their group date. Life long friendship, maybe. Life partner, not so much.
And it's not just Amy. One friend of mine says the dating pool is so shallow, she's now dating the brother of the guy she dumped ten years ago. Another friend says she's at the point where she'd rather date an old guy for his money than have to meet men her age, because the men HER age all want 20-year-olds. I can't argue with this; my 40-year-old brother is currently dating a 22-year-old. Even my 6-year-old thinks he's too old for her: "Ew, Mommy, that's gross. That's like that Ke$ha song, Dinosaur!" If you don't know it, download it. For $1.19, you'll get a good laugh. (My husband, of course, has a different attitude about my brother's girlfriend, but that's another story. Me, I'm just jealous of her "I've never been pregnant, popped out a ten-pounder, and then nursed her 12 times a day for a year" boobs.)
Yep, that's what's out there. Your husband's looking better already, isn't he? A few dirty socks on the floor, a little toothpaste in the sink, the occasional toilet seat left up - small price to pay for an otherwise good man who loves you, appreciates you, and won't ask, "Macaroni and cheese for dinner AGAIN?"
Slacker Mom Says... the grass ain't greener, ladies. Complain, vent to your friends, let it all out. But when push comes to shove, I know I've got a good deal. While I was in LA, my husband was here with the kids, playing Mr. Mom for a week, without complaining. We all have our annoying little habits, Slacker Mom included. I, for one, wouldn't trade my husband for anything. Well, not right now. Ask me again when he retires and is under my feet all the time.
Now, I've known Amy since she was about 14. The fact that she's old enough to date, let alone vote and own her own home, still surprises me. But Amy has remained, despite several long term relationships, a fascinating job on a cruise ship, and a stint in the Big Apple ala Sex and the City, the quintessential single girl. Me? I've been with my husband for 15 years, married 12, so I can no longer remember what dating is like. Or maybe I've just blocked it out of my memory, both the good parts (first kisses! waiting for the phone to ring! meeting interesting people!) and the bad ones (first kisses! waiting for the phone to ring! meeting people you think are interesting but who, it turns out, still work at the video store and live in their mother's basement because they peaked in high school!). But I digress.
Amy, it seems, has recently begun using a dating service. Not your average online dating service where everyone's photo is 10 years and 30 pounds out of date, but an actual matchmaking service - sort of like having someone's grandmother set you up with nice boys from her church but cooler, less embarrassing, and more expensive. Naturally, being the curious (read: nosy) type, as well as needing to live vicariously through someone, I begged for stories. Why a matchmaking service? Why not just meet guys the old-fashioned way, ie getting drunk at a bar and scrawling your phone number on his arm with lipstick? (Tells you how long I've been out of the game. My babysitter tells me everyone just dials their own cell from the guy's cell so they have each other's numbers. Now that's no fun. Can't "fake number" anyone anymore.) So Amy, in an effort to oblige me (and probably to thank me for years of being their only source of beer while they were underage), regaled me with her own "Greatest Hits - or Misses - in Dating."
Trust me, you will never underappreciate your husbands again.
Bachelor #1: While living in New York, she meets someone who lives in Jersey. (Now, even if you've never lived on the East Coast, you should know enough about New Jersey stereotypes to see where this is going.) For their first date, he doesn't want to leave Jersey ("Why would anyone willingly go to Manhattan?" he asks, knowing that she lives and works near Wall Street) and he insists on meeting only for a drink "to see how it goes" - then goes to the wrong bar and calls her cell to yell at her for standing him up. (See, the last time I was dating, no one had cell phones. So in this case, I'd have left, thinking he didn't show, and he'd never have called me again, thinking I'd ditched him. Problem solved.) Meanwhile, she's in the right bar, sitting at a table, waiting for him. He finally shows up,an hour late, goes to the bar (rather than ordering from the waitress, thereby avoiding having to pay for HER drink, too) and orders a white wine spritzer. Um, a white wine spritzer? Could he BE less manly? I don't care how much you hate beer, order a damn Heineken and pretend to drink it. When the waitress comes by and asks, "Would you like to order any food?" he barks, "No! I already ate!" without giving Amy a chance to order - even though he knew she came straight from work. A few f-bombs later, and she's ready to fake a heart attack just to get out of there. Date over, Loser. Don't call me again.
Bachelor #2: This charming fellow, recently divorced, spends the entire evening talking about how he can't wait to get married again, how he loves being married, how he can't stand being single. Red flag, anyone? Can you say desperate and needy? When they leave the restaurant, he walks Amy to his car and says, "Check out my car. Wanna take a ride? I'll take you anywhere you want to go, Baby." The "ew" factor aside, like she's going to get in the car with a guy she barely knows. Appealing to the fact that he has 2 teenage daughters, she asks, "Would you want your daughters to get in a car with a man they barely know?" His response? "Whatever. I'm sure they already have." And laughs like a lech. The clincher? He's still married. Separated, but not divorced. She tells him she's "not feeling the chemistry" and "doesn't want to lead him on", but he calls and texts for days before she finally changes her number.
Bachelor #3: Think the third time's the charm? Think again. This guy's idea of a dream date was to invite Amy to watch him play hockey, then take her to the rink's bar for a beer - without showering first. Ever sat next to a guy when he comes off the ice? I have. It's not pretty. I'd rather clean up a room full of other people's puking kids.
Ladies, this is what's out there.
Thus, the new matchmaking service. It's an interesting approach: they send 3 men and 3 women out on a group date. Less pressure, more people to keep the conversation going, fewer awkward silences. Sounds good, right? Wrong. Not a love connection. But on a positive note, she likes one of the other women so much they end up having lunch and dissecting the 3 guys on their group date. Life long friendship, maybe. Life partner, not so much.
And it's not just Amy. One friend of mine says the dating pool is so shallow, she's now dating the brother of the guy she dumped ten years ago. Another friend says she's at the point where she'd rather date an old guy for his money than have to meet men her age, because the men HER age all want 20-year-olds. I can't argue with this; my 40-year-old brother is currently dating a 22-year-old. Even my 6-year-old thinks he's too old for her: "Ew, Mommy, that's gross. That's like that Ke$ha song, Dinosaur!" If you don't know it, download it. For $1.19, you'll get a good laugh. (My husband, of course, has a different attitude about my brother's girlfriend, but that's another story. Me, I'm just jealous of her "I've never been pregnant, popped out a ten-pounder, and then nursed her 12 times a day for a year" boobs.)
Yep, that's what's out there. Your husband's looking better already, isn't he? A few dirty socks on the floor, a little toothpaste in the sink, the occasional toilet seat left up - small price to pay for an otherwise good man who loves you, appreciates you, and won't ask, "Macaroni and cheese for dinner AGAIN?"
Slacker Mom Says... the grass ain't greener, ladies. Complain, vent to your friends, let it all out. But when push comes to shove, I know I've got a good deal. While I was in LA, my husband was here with the kids, playing Mr. Mom for a week, without complaining. We all have our annoying little habits, Slacker Mom included. I, for one, wouldn't trade my husband for anything. Well, not right now. Ask me again when he retires and is under my feet all the time.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
When Your Reputation Preceeds You
A couple of months ago, I met a nice mom at the pool. She and her family had moved to the neighborhood about a year before, but for some reason, we hadn't met. Our kids started playing Marco Polo, we started talking about our kids, and eventually, we got around to introducing ourselves formally.
And that's when it got interesting.
When I told her my name, she kind of cocked her head to one side and said, "Oh. YOU'RE Kelly." Hmmm. Yes. yes, I am. Not being one to just let things like that go, I said, "Yes, I'm Kelly. Why?"
Long story short, one of my (not-so-nice) neighbors "warned" her about me. Said that I call myself Slacker Mom, but I'm (and this is a direct quote) "hypocritical and a perfectionist who pretends to be a slacker but is really full of doggie doo." (OK, that last part is a bit of paraphrasing, but hey, some things shouldn't be repeated.) She went on to say that a REAL slacker doesn't volunteer at school, make homemade cookies, keep a clean house, or drive her kids all over town to their various activities.
So let's just get one thing clear: Slacker Mom is not about sitting on your butt all day, eating bon-bons and watching soap operas. (I'm not even sure what a bon-bon is, to be honest. And if I'm sitting around eating anything, it's going to be cheese, with a bottle of wine on the side.) No, Slacker Mom is about letting go of what doesn't matter - to you - so that you can focus on what DOES matter - to YOU.
Slacker Mom started as a joke with my best friend, Nina, one summer. We joked about how summer is the time to relax, to avoid all the commitments and activities of the busy school year, a time to just enjoy our families and friends and not be so focused on the unimportant stuff - like making sure each child drinks 3 full glasses of non-flavored milk every single day, or sterilizing every single counter top after every single meal. Sometimes, it's OK to leave the dishes until morning. Sometimes, it's OK hit the drive-thru or stir a little strawberry syrup into the milk. Sometimes, it's OK to let the kids stay up too late and eat ice cream before dinner while (gasp!) watching (non-educational) TV during the week!
Slacker Mom is about "live and let live" parenting, without judging other moms and their choices. Slacker Mom is about supporting each other, helping each other, ending the Mommy Wars. Slacker Mom is a no-nonsense look at this crazy and wonderful job of motherhood, its trials and tribulations, its joys and rewards, with a side of humor. Because honestly, if we didn't laugh, we'd cry. And then the kids would cry. And then our husbands would freak out and start crying, too. And I don't know about you, but we are ALWAYS running low on tissue around here.
So yes, I volunteer at my kids' school. I like it, I do it because I like it - but I couldn't care less if you do it or not. Yes, I make homemade cookies rather than buying store-bought Chips Ahoy- because my girls and I like to bake together, and besides, my youngest has so many food allergies that there are virtually no store-bought baked goods that she CAN eat. And yes, I keep a clean and fairly tidy house - at least, it's clean enough that if a neighbor stopped by, I wouldn't be completely embarrassed. Just don't open any closets or the door to my kids' playroom. But I would never judge anyone else's house - even my sister, who, 8 months after moving in, admits to having boxes in her dining room. Hey, I have boxes that came back from Spain with us in 1999 that are still unopened. Whatever.
As for driving my kids around to various activities, Slacker Mom readers already know my position on kids and their schedules. I have 2 kids, each does one year-round activity and one seasonal sport. And they do a LOT less running around than many of the kids I know. My kids have time for playdates, play dough, and playing with each other. I have time for my kids, my commitments, my husband, my friends, and - equally importantly - myself.
So, you might ask, how did I respond to these charges of hypocrisy and perfectionism? How did I defend myself against this woman's claim that I am full of poo?
I didn't. And I won't. Because, basically, I really don't care. Besides, we all know that when it comes to people like that, there's really nothing you can say anyway. Her comments say a lot more about her than they do about me. Happy people don't go around trying to make other people miserable. They just don't.
Slacker Mom Says... whatever. Or, as my sister would say, "Bite me." How about if we talk less trash about other moms? How about, instead of meeting a new neighbor and telling her all the reasons why she shouldn't like someone else, we just get to know each other and form our own opinions? Wow. Wouldn't that set a nice example for our kids?
And that's when it got interesting.
When I told her my name, she kind of cocked her head to one side and said, "Oh. YOU'RE Kelly." Hmmm. Yes. yes, I am. Not being one to just let things like that go, I said, "Yes, I'm Kelly. Why?"
Long story short, one of my (not-so-nice) neighbors "warned" her about me. Said that I call myself Slacker Mom, but I'm (and this is a direct quote) "hypocritical and a perfectionist who pretends to be a slacker but is really full of doggie doo." (OK, that last part is a bit of paraphrasing, but hey, some things shouldn't be repeated.) She went on to say that a REAL slacker doesn't volunteer at school, make homemade cookies, keep a clean house, or drive her kids all over town to their various activities.
So let's just get one thing clear: Slacker Mom is not about sitting on your butt all day, eating bon-bons and watching soap operas. (I'm not even sure what a bon-bon is, to be honest. And if I'm sitting around eating anything, it's going to be cheese, with a bottle of wine on the side.) No, Slacker Mom is about letting go of what doesn't matter - to you - so that you can focus on what DOES matter - to YOU.
Slacker Mom started as a joke with my best friend, Nina, one summer. We joked about how summer is the time to relax, to avoid all the commitments and activities of the busy school year, a time to just enjoy our families and friends and not be so focused on the unimportant stuff - like making sure each child drinks 3 full glasses of non-flavored milk every single day, or sterilizing every single counter top after every single meal. Sometimes, it's OK to leave the dishes until morning. Sometimes, it's OK hit the drive-thru or stir a little strawberry syrup into the milk. Sometimes, it's OK to let the kids stay up too late and eat ice cream before dinner while (gasp!) watching (non-educational) TV during the week!
Slacker Mom is about "live and let live" parenting, without judging other moms and their choices. Slacker Mom is about supporting each other, helping each other, ending the Mommy Wars. Slacker Mom is a no-nonsense look at this crazy and wonderful job of motherhood, its trials and tribulations, its joys and rewards, with a side of humor. Because honestly, if we didn't laugh, we'd cry. And then the kids would cry. And then our husbands would freak out and start crying, too. And I don't know about you, but we are ALWAYS running low on tissue around here.
So yes, I volunteer at my kids' school. I like it, I do it because I like it - but I couldn't care less if you do it or not. Yes, I make homemade cookies rather than buying store-bought Chips Ahoy- because my girls and I like to bake together, and besides, my youngest has so many food allergies that there are virtually no store-bought baked goods that she CAN eat. And yes, I keep a clean and fairly tidy house - at least, it's clean enough that if a neighbor stopped by, I wouldn't be completely embarrassed. Just don't open any closets or the door to my kids' playroom. But I would never judge anyone else's house - even my sister, who, 8 months after moving in, admits to having boxes in her dining room. Hey, I have boxes that came back from Spain with us in 1999 that are still unopened. Whatever.
As for driving my kids around to various activities, Slacker Mom readers already know my position on kids and their schedules. I have 2 kids, each does one year-round activity and one seasonal sport. And they do a LOT less running around than many of the kids I know. My kids have time for playdates, play dough, and playing with each other. I have time for my kids, my commitments, my husband, my friends, and - equally importantly - myself.
So, you might ask, how did I respond to these charges of hypocrisy and perfectionism? How did I defend myself against this woman's claim that I am full of poo?
I didn't. And I won't. Because, basically, I really don't care. Besides, we all know that when it comes to people like that, there's really nothing you can say anyway. Her comments say a lot more about her than they do about me. Happy people don't go around trying to make other people miserable. They just don't.
Slacker Mom Says... whatever. Or, as my sister would say, "Bite me." How about if we talk less trash about other moms? How about, instead of meeting a new neighbor and telling her all the reasons why she shouldn't like someone else, we just get to know each other and form our own opinions? Wow. Wouldn't that set a nice example for our kids?
Friday, August 20, 2010
Unplugged, By Choice
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)