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I love the idea of teaching my children to think for themselves. I value their ideas and opinions and want to help them learn how to evaluate information, weigh different views, and come up with their own perspective. But that’s proving to be easier said than done. In this time of heightened political awareness, my 6-year-old has absorbed a fair amount of the dinner conversation regarding the Presidential race. He is well aware of the views my husband and I share and has become adept at repeating them. And I have to admit, I love that. I find it absolutely adorable when he tells people which candidate he’s supporting and what “he” thinks of the other one. I’m really not sure I’d find it quite so cute if he was speaking in favor of the other candidate. Is it really so bad to want him to share our values? Isn’t part of parenting sharing your ideologies openly with your children and explaining why you believe what you do? In 12 years he’ll be casting his own ballot. He’ll have a lifetime to march to the beat of a different drummer, if he so chooses. Until then, I’m perfectly happy to steer him in our direction.
While I was excited for Commuter Girl, I was kind of dreading the start of swimming lessons. I know I was the one that said she needed to do it, and I’m the one who signed her up for the lessons. But, through all of that I never thought about the fact that a parent would have to get in the pool with her...I thought bathing suit season was over. But, Commuter Girl comes first, so I got out my suit and shaved my legs.
The first lesson was fine. Commuter Girl seemed intrigued. She splashed, kicked, blew bubbles. She even put her whole face in. The second lesson was awful. She spent 30 minutes in the pool crying. The instructor was amazing. She helped us to stay positive and we didn’t get out of the pool until the lesson was over. I don’t think it was a pleasant experience for anyone. I felt particularly bad for the other little boy in the class and his parents, but we all got through it. Now, we have a little fish on our hands. After 4 lessons, including the one full of tears, she is jumping in the water, kicking “like the big girls” in the lesson before her, touching the bottom of the pool with her toes, and bragging about it all to anyone who will listen.
This is a really good lesson for me as a parent. I need to make her stick to her commitments – and at 2 ½ that means staying in the pool until the lesson is over and finishing the 10 sessions. If she were miserable for all of the lessons, I wouldn’t sign her up again, but we need to teach her to finish what she starts…even if it means I have to wear a bathing suit.
There was a curriculum night last night for parents of infants and toddlers at the Bright Horizons child care center my daughter attends. We hemmed and hawed about whether or not to attend the event that coincided with dinner, bath, and bedtime for New Girl. Ultimately, I decided to pick her up early and bring her, along with one of her friends, to my office for dinner, changed her into her pj’s and brought her back for the evening child care the center provided, and then New Dad brought her home and put her to bed while I stayed for the full evening.
It was so worth it. I know how masterful New Girl’s teachers are with toddlers, but I was equally impressed, inspired, and reassured about the poise and confidence they demonstrated in the adult-only setting. I learned so much about how they offer limited choices, guide learning and positive behaviors, keep their cool under pressure, and support each other. Just like parents, they indicated that one of the most important ways they work as a team is to support and reinforce what their co-teachers communicate to a child. I learned that, just like me, they have bad days when the toddler tantrums get to be too much, and they turn to coworkers to give them a breather. I learned that my daughter isn’t the only one who stops on a dime when her teachers instruct “red light” but acts like her mother is speaking a foreign language when I do the same. I learned that very few children are potty trained before moving on to preschool and that my daughter knows what it means to be a “proper diner.” I learned that my child is better able to adjust to changes in her routine than I ever anticipated (she LOVED the evening child care and didn’t want to leave). Finally, I learned that LL Bean supposedly sells toddler mittens that zip up the middle for easier dressing. My homework assignment is to find them.
I am pretty new to the green scene so I am still testing out eco-friendly products to find the ones I like. My dilemma is what to do with the items I don’t like. For instance, I bought some dishwasher detergent that simply didn’t work. I had to rinse the dishes thoroughly before putting them in the dishwasher (wasting water), and then wash at least a quarter of the load again after it had already been through the dishwasher (wasting water again). I couldn’t take it anymore, so I bought different detergent leaving a nearly full bag of capsules sitting under my sink. Similar things have happened with shampoo and conditioner, bath soap, and cereal.
I’ve resolved to buy trial sized items when possible so I can test out the product before buying a larger size. I still don’t know what to do with the old items though. I’m hoping I can convince my husband to keep using them while I move on to the new product. Now if I can only get through the six tubes of toothpaste I bought at Costco before I decided I wanted to go natural.
Caller ID is great, but I cringe every time my phone rings and it says “Bright Horizons” with my local area code on the screen. Today, my blackberry rang, sure enough…it was the center. Is Commuter Girl hurt? Is she bleeding? Is she sick? Am I going to have to leave early? I hope she doesn’t have a fever, I can’t take the day off of work tomorrow — and we all know she has to be fever-free for 24 hours before she can go back to the center.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the teacher said “Hello, everything is fine.” She then proceeded to tell me that she was calling so Commuter Girl could tell me something. She handed over the phone and I heard this sweet little voice. “Mommy, I peed on the potty. I did.” She then proceeded to not say another word, but to instead nod her head, according to her teacher, to every question I asked. Regardless of the one-sidedness, it was the best conversation I’ve had all week. A huge thanks to her teacher for making my day!
My 3-year-old just had her tonsils and adenoids out, and I am proud — and relieved — to report that thus far things are going very well. She was a real trooper, and has yet to complain even once about the pain.
Before we left the hospital, we were given a long list of post-op instructions. Soft foods, pain medication, antibiotics, and so forth. Last on the list of instructions was two weeks of “quiet play.” Quiet play? The last time there was anything even resembling quiet play in my house was before we got our dog…and that was before the three children arrived. So to think that we could have two weeks of quiet play in our home is clearly wishful thinking. My daughter may feel like laying low, but how do I get my 6-year-old and my 1-year-old (not to mention my Golden Retriever) to cooperate? I’m all for art projects, videos, books, and other non-physical activities. But my children are another story. We’ve been home from the hospital for less than 24 hours and already my daughter wants to play “chase” with her brothers. The videos are sitting unwatched; the paint brushes remain dry. I think it’s going to be a very long two weeks.
Rate these working parent infractions on a scale of 1 to 10:
1) Specifically for a child under 2, turning on the TV for her/him in the morning so you can catch a couple more zzzz’s
2) Same question, but this time, in order to make dinner
3) Serving hotdogs and canned fruit for several meals in a row because you haven’t had time to go grocery shopping
4) Sneaking out of work early on a quiet Friday in order to go grocery shopping
5) Putting off shampooing your child’s hair until Saturday when the babysitter can do it and endure the protests during the rinsing phase
6) Offering Fig Newtons for breakfast because, after all, they’re not a cookie, they’re a Newton
7) Using precious work hours to shop online for new shoes, Halloween costumes, holiday presents, etc.
8) Putting away the toddler’s clean laundry without really folding it, because, after all, those clothes never stay folded or organized in the drawer anyway
9) Pretending not to notice your child eating the stray cheerios and stale crackers she has unearthed from the depths of the car seat, and then never really cleaning them up afterwards either
10) Quietly envying every other working mother you know because they all seem to have it figured out just a little bit better than you.
I was stunned recently when I found out that baby carrots are not really “baby” carrots at all. They are really just regular sized carrots cut down into the convenient size everyone seems to love. Also, depending on what you read, they may contain more sugar than regular and less beta carotene than regular carrots and they may or may not be cleaned with chlorine.
I guess I never really thought about how they were grown. Did I think that there were mini-carrot plants lining the rows of vegetable gardens? The problem with knowing all this is that I just can’t bring myself to buy them now; I feel like I’m being scammed. Even though they are regular carrots, because they have to be cut down and prepped, they cost more than regular carrots. Sure they are convenient, but does it really take that much time out of my meal prep to peel and cut a few carrots? I’ve begun to see other “baby” vegetables, like baby cucumbers (basically the size of two baby carrots), in the store, but won’t buy those either, even though I’m pretty sure those are legitimately smaller cucumbers. They’d probably be hard to peel though.
Well, we have entered into a new phase in New Girl’s development, and I’m not so sure it’s one I like. I think she has learned to lie.
Yesterday we were watching a ladybug on the garage floor. Now, I’m not so sure that ladybug had much life left in her because, while she did make some movements, she didn’t go anywhere fast, even as we hovered over her and touched her. New Girl seems to have developed a skittishness about bugs, and at her tender age, I don’t think that’s great. So, I was happy to help her see how cute and harmless the ladybug was.
A few minutes later, as she moved on to bigger and better things New Girl tried to climb into a toy train that was meant for a 6-inch plastic monkey, As I was warned her that she wouldn’t fit and that it wasn’t safe to try, she stumbled back and stepped on the aforementioned ladybug. She looked back and knew right away that the ladybug had met her demise. “Look,” I said, in a completely observational and non-judgmental tone. “You stepped on the ladybug. What do you think happened to her?” Her reply was this, “Mommy stepped ladybug.” Now, I was not in that ladybug’s path, and New Girl knew it. She inched further and further away from the late ladybug and kept repeating, “Mommy stepped ladybug.”
I feel quite certain that she knew that she may well have done something wrong and yet at 1½ I never expected her to think she should shift the blame. If this is what she’s doing now, I think we’re headed for some crazy teenage years.
I have to admit I’m a bit afraid of Halloween costumes. And truth be told, a fairy princess costume is just as scary to me as a wicked witch. What scares me about costumes actually has nothing at all to do with the creepy masks or the ghoulish disguises. What freaks me out is the prospect of creating my kids’ costumes.
My colleagues have been talking about their children’s costumes for days. One made a ladybug outfit for her baby; another “threw together” a Bob the Builder getup. I can not sew a button. Really. Which puts me at a great disadvantage on this holiday. Sure, I know I could go to one of the dozens of Halloween stores that mysteriously appear after Labor Day, but I simply can’t justify spending fifty dollars on a costume that my 6-year-old will wear once. I come by this shortcoming honestly; I was a mime every single year from first grade through eighth. I wore all black and painted my face white. Piece of cake. But a mime won’t work for my son. He informs me that’s just not cool. So far he’s thinking Darth Vader, Spiderman, or an airplane. Does anybody know of a “cool” costume that a novice like me could pull off?
Disclaimer: This post is not “green” related.
Neither my husband’s family nor my family live in the same state as us so we do not have a large pool of babysitters to choose from. So when I came across this blog post I was intrigued. The more I kept reading though, the more I kept thinking about speed dating. I haven’t participated in speed dating myself, but from what I’ve seen on television, it’s a whirlwind night of interviewing potential dates in five minute bursts.
A children’s boutique in my area has taken the same idea but instead of dates, parents are looking for date nights. It’s speed dating, babysitter edition. Groups of parents meet up with groups of babysitters and have brief conversations about their needs. If it’s a match, you might go home with a phone number or e-mail address. If it’s not, you can move on to another potential sitter, or go home and try internet dating. Both of these options are worth considering, but I think I’ll leave dating to the teenagers and trust good old parent referrals for finding my babysitters.
Green Mom reminds us to reduce, reuse, and recycle…
I just got back from the consignment store where I dropped off two baby gates (yes, we took down the baby gates, and I swear our house is bigger now!), a pair of snow boots, and about 25 pieces of clothing that Commuter Girl doesn’t fit in anymore.
I’m not the only one who sees the value in recycling what doesn’t fit. The consignment store was packed. I got there about five minutes after they started accepting consignments and there were already five people in line ahead of me. When I left there were at least 10 people still waiting. Thank goodness I didn’t take Commuter Girl with me.
So far I have recycled and reused. And, really, I reduced as well. I reduced my spending. I came home from the consignment store with eight new long-sleeved t-shirts, a dress, two pairs of pants, and a tutu. But the best part of it is that I only spent $23. That’s right, $23 I had a small credit from the last batch of things I dropped off for consignment, and I didn’t buy anything that was more than $5. I’m not typically very good at bargain shopping, so I’m pretty proud of how I did today!
Here’s the setting: me, alone with New Girl in a small tourist shopping area. New Girl was cranky when we first arrived and was even crankier one hour later as we attempted to depart. (Found out later she was sick, but at the time, I had no idea.) She really didn’t want to get in the car seat. She whined a bit when I first attempted, so I left her in the stroller and loaded the rest of the stuff into the car first. It only delayed the inevitable. I tried bribing and cajoling with treats and books and stuffed animals and whatever toys I had around. To me it’s all better than making a scene in public, and, after all, we were supposed to be having a good time, so I was happy to pacify her if it could be done.
But, it wasn’t to be. She screamed and yelled and whined and complained, as I picked her up, fought the arched back and flailing arms to strap her into the car seat. When I finally got her buckled, I turned around to find an older woman just standing there in the parking lot watching me. She wasn’t pretending to do something else, wasn’t peering over her shoulder, wasn’t offering help (I wouldn’t have wanted any). She was just standing there as if she had bought a ticket to the cranky toddler show. After I loaded the stroller, I saw her with a group of eight or so other women. Did they think someone was possibly harming a child and dispatch one of their own to check it out? If so, can I still be annoyed with her voyeurism?
My 3-year-old is getting ready for surgery in a couple of weeks to have her tonsils and adenoids removed. Let me rephrase that, I am getting ready for my daughter’s surgery to have her tonsils and adenoids removed. She is not getting ready because she does not know this event is going to take place. And therein lies the problem: I don’t know how or when to break the news to her. Were I to explain the procedure to her, I don’t think she would really understand. She doesn’t have a concept of time, so the fact that we’re still a couple of weeks out wouldn’t resonate. And even if she did have a grasp of the timing, why worry her for two whole weeks? On the other hand, I don’t really want to spring it on her. Shouldn’t she have the opportunity to mentally prepare, as it were? Help! What’s the best way to prepare her without stressing her out? I’m quite certain I’m stressed enough for the two of us.
While I would love to only serve Green Baby homemade macaroni and cheese, it doesn’t always work out that way. When I do use the boxed stuff, I usually go for Annie’s Homegrown (and add in some fresh veggies). Right now through November 30th Annie’s is running a box top collection campaign. Schools can sign up to collect box tops, then enter to win an organic gardening kit. Annie’s is also partnering with Kiwi Magazine to donate $35,000 to the National Gardening Association’s Adopt a School Garden Program™ and to provide families that purchase an Annie’s product a free one-year subscription to Kiwi Magazine.
It warms my heart and makes me laugh that Commuter Girl is a miniature version of Commuter Dad and me. I have to hide my amusement when she yells at the dog, and pretend not notice when she walks with her hand on her hip (which I never realized I did until I tried to figure out where Commuter Girl picked it up). I love seeing her sooth her dolls the same way I soothe her. And, I crack up when she picks up her cup with a handle and says “this is my coffee.” Last week I was asking Commuter Girl to get dressed. She, as is common, wasn’t listening so I asked again. Then, she looked at me and said, “Don’t talk to me like that. That’s rude.” That is exactly what I would have said to her had she spoken to me like that.
I can handle all of those things. The funny comments and gestures, the differences in what is OK for Mommy and what is OK for little girls. But, now she pretends to drink wine. She pours the “wine” from her teapot into a little plastic cup in her play kitchen and then offers it around. The other night she even came over to me, called me by my first name and offered me a glass of wine. It was really funny at the time, but what has me really worried is that at school the other day she offered her teacher a glass of wine! I guess what happens at home doesn’t stay at home.
I think becoming a parent ups the ante on feeling guilty. Whether it’s feeling like I don’t spend enough time reading to my son or the fact that I don’t always make home-cooked dinners, there is always something to feel guilty about. But now, I also have ecoguilt.
The other day I went to the grocery store. The all-natural pudding that I prefer comes in both individual serving size packs and larger multi-serving containers. However, the low-fat option only comes in the single serve pack, so by buying it I am contributing to the plastic crisis. Once I got to the check out, I realized that I’d left my reusable bags at home. I felt OK about asking for paper because we use them to store our recycling until trash day. Before I noticed, however, the bagger had put my paper bags inside plastic bags for easy carrying. When I was finished shopping, I climbed into my gas guzzler SUV and drove the half mile home instead of walking with my groceries, my son, and a diaper bag. Hopefully Mother Earth has children and will forgive me.
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