What’s wrong with a wife? September 1, 2009

The NYT Modern Love column is something I look forward too every Sunday. Typically I am pacing for the paper to be delievered because that is my sad life. It’s true. I am generally fired up every Sunday when I check and check and recheck and the paper still isn’t there, only for my lazy slovenly, good for nothing NYT delivery person to toss it into my yard around 8am.

I mean really. We are like 2.5 hours into our day by then, why do I have to pace for it? Its sad really.

So, back to the column. I think Sunday’s column is the first time I’ve been not only pissed off as I read it but also confused. I needed to read it a few more times to even make sense out of what the point of it was.

The writer had me with the first sentence, I was seething, as she bragged about how she has a big job and two kids and how when other working moms comment that she must be so busy, her response was a flippant “Not really, my wife stays home.” Imagine if a man responded in such a fashion. We’d be organizing to burn and pillage his home, decrying him as the world’s biggest chauvinist and wondering why in the world he doesn’t pick up some slack around home to appreciate just how much is wife makes his successful career possible.

Yet instead, because the author is female, we are supposed to accept her obnoxious statement and appreciate that it’s a column about gay women raising children and the struggles with what to call each other.  But not me. I’m pissed off at how obnoxious she is regarding the ease with which she maintains her career because she has a wife at home. Then she goes on to berate straight women in marriages because essentially we take on too much and are power hungry and refuse to relinquish tasks to our husbands, as she so gallantly did to her wife (after implying her wife still doesn’t do it all as well as she would and flat out stating it took her 18 months to accept her wife’s way).

How noble of the author to admit that her career is successful and she is able to maintain it and manage it all because she has an organized wife at home. Isn’t the reality that most women take on the majority of these tasks – whether they work or stay home – and when they stay home, they do so because that is their job but when they work, they do so because these things help them stay connected and involved in the lives of their children in the way that they would want too, if they were home. 

But then she cuts at the heart of at the biggest point of contention among almost every woman with kids I know – the unbalanced workload between husbands and wives. While her arrogance and judgement irritated the hell out of me – she still made a legitimate point in that having a more involved husband at home means relinquishing control and letting him take charge of some duties – without berating him for doing it differently than we would.

What a conundrum I find myself in – both loathing and appreciating some of the words of this woman. And she’s right. We all want our husbands to take on more work around the house, really to just take initiative. To notice when something needs done, cleaning, fixing, purchased at the store, and just do it – without being asked or handed a list. And I do think that this behavior happens more often with positive reinforcement, like that of a child pushing boundaries – the more praise and recognition we heap on them for menial tasks, the more inclined they are to do them. I think if we critique what they do constantly or we don’t ever ask them to do it because we figure that is more work than just doing it ourselves, then we forfeit the right to complain about our husbands because we are enabling them NOT to be a true partner.

Then the author goes back to what was her original point of their identities as two women, both wives, and how to refer to each other publicly. At the onset of their relationship, they felt it was very in-your-face to people to refer to each other as wives, both because it is unexpected and the word “wife” has such negative connotations.

Now here’s something else I have a beef with. Why is this? And why are other women reinforcing this notion? Why is someone who manages the house, primarily raises the children to be upstanding and responsible members of society, and keeps food on the table and clean clothes on everyone’s bodies – why is this condescending and something we recoil over? Aren’t we way past that? Haven’t we all recognized that many women deliberately choose this path and take great pride in it, often times finding it more fulfilling than some dumb job in a cube.

I couldn’t believe this made it into the Sunday NYT.

Meet the New Nanny August 31, 2009

There seems to be a pandemic sweeping our nation – and no I’m not talking about swine flu – though this pandemic is also highly contagious and can result in unplanned Emergency Room visits.

What I’m talking about is this sweeping attitude amongst lazy ass parents that the park is their new nanny. It comes with the best price, right – free – and apparently its there to entertain their child and render their roles and responsibilities as parent obsolete.

The consequences of relying upon the park as nanny, however, impact more than just that particular family and frankly incite rage in most of us. My conclusion to avoid this pandemic was to purchase my own swing set and slide, have my husband build it in our backyard, thus my own yard can act as my nanny and it need not bother anyone else, and I can avoid the rising blood pressure and rage that is almost guaranteed with a park visit lately.

I’ve blogged on this topic before and yet this subject is more common among brunch guests, email tirades and casual conversation at the beach, than is trashing husbands for being lazy around the house, so it merits a revisit.

Why do parents find it appropriate to check out at the park? To just sit in a corner and gab with each other while sally is running up the slide the wrong way, as your child is tying to slide down the right way? Or to pretend that they don’t see junior tossing sand in the eyes of his sandbox playmate over and over again? Or to let their 8 year olds tear up and past a climbing wall as my almost 4 year old is trying to navigate her wobbly way to the top? And why do I have to spend my time policing these junior tyrants and barking at them when my time is better spent monitoring my own kid, who herself is no innocent lark in occasional bad park behavior?

Do we need a nationwide bulletin to remind parents that the park is, in fact, not their nanny but is instead there provide a fun outlet for all children, and when visiting the park, their job is to keep an eye on johnny, enforce good behavior and discipline bad behavior? And guess what, when little kendra acts out, don’t let her explore her boundaries and learn how to play based on her peer’s response, grab her, discipline her and remove her from the play area. I don’t care if I’m inflicting my discipline philosophy on you – if your kid is going to misbehave and my kid is the victim, then your kid gets my approach if you do nothing.

Can we include this in the bulletin?

It’s easy to trash lazy moms who have clearly checked out – they do seem to be the most common culprit in this behavior – but that’s because more moms are home than dads. I have seen my fair share of dads too busy on their blackberry or cellphone to bother dealing with their snot nosed twerp.

So please parents – get your shit together – and remember that the park isn’t your  nanny and your kid isn’t awesome when they are breaking the rules and making an otherwise enjoyable park experience – miserable.

Body Talk August 26, 2009

An otherwise typical playdate last week resulted in some great blog fodder. We were at the preschool playground, getting the kids together before the new school year (FINALLY) starts. A friend and I just met a mom who is new to the school. Her older one is in DD1’s class and she mentioned she had a two week old at home.

At this point, we’d known her about 90 seconds. I couldn’t have told you her name if my life depended on it.

My friend remarks on how good this woman looks, she  said she herself looked so butt 2 weeks post baby.

I echoed the sentiment, I was so fat and bloated and blah blah, she looked great.

Abruptly she says “I should let you know, I had a surrogate.”

Dead silence.

My friend’s mouth gaping open a bit.

AWKWARD is the only word fitting for this situation.

Now, let’s get a few things straight. I am in full support of surrogacy, have a baby any way you can get one. There is no judgment going on here. It was just so unexpected and awkward and seeing as how I couldn’t even remember her name, it just seemed strange that she busted out with that statement. Why not just accept the compliment and move on?

So I tripped around saying how she still looked really good, not tired at all, my eyes were so puffy and swollen 2 weeks home with a new baby.

Meanwhile my mind was racing with the following questions:

How did you find the surrogate?

How much did it cost?
Is your older child also from a surrogate?

Same one?

How come you chose that route?

Did you buy the woman a gift for delivering you a healthy baby? (recall: i am not a minimalist. i like things. if i’m ever your surrogate, i want a nice present. and a personal trainer.)

I mean, if she’s going to offer up something so personal, can I follow up with equally as personal questions? Naturally my equally nosy older sister has tasked me with finding out the answers to these questions as soon as possible.

But see, I think  there was so much more to this exchange than the awkward moment and wondering if she shared  just a bit too much information 90 seconds into meeting one another.

It’s about our need to comment on women’s bodies. Aren’t we all guilty?

The chorus of anger towards those who comment on our bodies and growing size while preggo can be heard loud and clear here on KT. We want to pillage the homes of the offenders. We want to respond with mean comments on how much bigger they’ve gotten since the last time we saw them too. We want to claw their eyes out. We hate them. Those commenters.

But what about after we’ve had the baby? Do the same rules apply? I, for one, love being told how great I look post baby – even when I know the person doesn’t mean it, because I crave my old body so much. You know, because my old body is so hot.

Seriously, I hope someone will compliment me. I’m open for business and practically soliciting body comments. Many of us love to show off our cleavage post baby because our boobs are big and round. We are screaming out – comment.

So all it takes is our placenta coming out for our perspective to shift?

Did we have a right to tell this woman she looked great? It’s really none of our business, we were just saying what we like to hear 2 weeks later.

And how fascinating that we assume that because a woman has a newborn, she has just given birth to that baby. We all know dear friends, if not ourselves, who have had trouble getting pregnant and had to take many paths to get to this point, so why the assumption that she has given birth?

Do we have a double standard with body comments pre and post baby?

The KT List: Beach Edition August 21, 2009

I’ve spent a good part of the summer at the beach. From my many trips alone with the girls, we know I’ve concluded one important thing: husbands are good for hauling crap onto the beach. Divorce would be bad.

I’ve also had a few months to put together my list of beach essentials.  Before you go on, a few notes. First, I am not a minimalist. If you are a minimalist, then KT’s beach survival list is not for you. Also, this list is particularly useful if you have more than one child. I didn’t necessarily need all of these things last summer. And well, I’m a gal who likes to need and collect things, so I do not say that lightly.

I made my peace with the true fact that I am no longer able to toss a few gossip rags, a bottle of water, some sun block (who the hell has time to apply sun block anymore?), and a cheesy beach read into a cute straw beach bag, grab a chair and hit the beach. Those days are long gone. As they are for you. So here goes, kittens.

Topping the list, without a doubt, is the very thing that saved summer. If you are a regular beach-goer, then this item is a must have. Easily the best $80 or so I’ve ever spent. And once you own one, you will note that it is like a veritable convention of these surrounding your beach camp each and every time you go. And if you relish in shopping, as do I, then you will size up the cousins of this contraption and determine that your deluxe model, with it’s big wheels fit for pulling over sand with relative ease (for the husband, of course), was well worth the extra cash.

Behold the Wonder Wheeler Deluxe - in all of its plastic perfection and big wheeled glory.  It is the ultimate visual representation of parenthood, of dorkiness, the minivan of the beach, if you will. Being seen pulling or standing close to one of these tells the skinny bikini clad teens and young lovers around you that you gave up on being cool a long time ago. And as I went to dig up the link – don’t think my stomach didn’t turn upon realizing this life-saver of summer is now on sale for HALF PRICE. The rush I get from a great deal on a great item keeps me going for months, I almost want to buy them in bulk now and then sell them to others at the onset of Memorial Day 2010.  The only thing this summer champ can’t do is carry a baby – and don’t think I didn’t consider where a baby might be strapped in, similar to a baby bjorn, thereby freeing up both hands of one parent (the one clever enough not to be pulling or pushing the WWD).  I considered how the sturdier baby just might be fine sitting in the main basket. Trust me, desperate times call for desperate considerations.

So now that I’ve tipped you off on the ease of transporting all the gear, including chairs and the ever-important beach umbrella, to and from the beach, let’s now get into the actual gear.

Surviving two hours on the beach with two children under the age of 4 is no small feat.

Because DD2 was immobile way back in May, and in my naivete I presumed she would be immobile all summer long as was her sister, I purchased the covered tent for baby. As luck wouldn’t have it, she was crawling shortly after July 4 and so she maybe played and napped in the thing twice before she spent her next visit pushing her head up against the mesh netting that was zipped closed and them promptly began screaming bloody murder for someone to retrieve her. So – it worked well for DD1 and was a total waste for DD2, and as any self-respecting shopping lover would do, I lost the first tent from DD1. So we have this useless second one. IF she had stayed immobile, as I had planned, then it would have been a real asset to our beach-going experience.

Which brings us to our second question: how to keep the mobile baby distracted long enough not to eat a pound of sand each beach visit?

Enter the baby pool. You got it. We are big fans of the baby pool on the beach, steps from the ocean, filled with like 3 centimeters of water. I don’t think the baby pool will be useful for us next summer, but it was a life saver this summer and because DD2 would play in the pool with rubber ducks and whatever else she could find, DD1 was then interested in playing in the pool and ripping all the toys from DD2 hands (read: enabling some ‘relaxation’ time for us away from playing “let’s jump waves” in the ocean).  The baby pool gets ranked second for me after my beloved WWD.

In case you’ve lost track, you are now hauling several chairs, a baby pool, a baby tent, gobs of beach toys, towels, a cooler, snacks and a beach umbrella to the beach. If you are anything like me, you are wondering why in the hell you are even bothering.

Which brings me to the joys of applying sunscreen. I don’t know about your children but applying sunscreen to DD1 is like chasing around a chicken whose head was just cut off. As it turned out, the Coppertone Water Babies sunscreen in the form of roll-on, that she could apply herself (Miss “I’m three, I can do it by MYSELF”), eased my pain and misery. I can’t recommend this product enough if you don’t already have it or if your child hasn’t turned into the taz devil yet when trying to apply sunscreen.

And finally, let’s end with me. I still haven’t found that fabulous, stylish and practical beach cover-up.  Happy summer kittens, there isn’t much left to go.

Doubt August 14, 2009

A therapeutic phone chat with a KT BFF earlier this week is prompting today’s post. I don’t know if misery loves company or if I always feel better just knowing that I’m not totally failing nor am I alone in my doubts, but it was just the sort of conversation I needed.

The thing is, I am typically a very confident person. I don’t really waiver on things or get all insecure. And we know I certainly loathe mommy guilt. I think it’s BS.

Don’t worry, I have gone all rogue George Bush on you, I’m not above an apology or admitting when I’m wrong. And I know how to pronounce simple words, like “nuclear.” Though it seems I yell these days more than I’d like too.

Anyhow, the continued growth and development of DD2 is a fabulous thing. She is 100% goofball, all smiles, and she is very active, crawling, cruising and working very hard to walk in an effort to keep up with her busy older sister. What this means, however, is that each day she becomes more time consuming.

And seeing as how there is only one of me and two of them for 10 hours a day, I am spread real thin. This is a phenomenon that is taking a lot of time for me to adjust too. It’s huge.

The thing about adjusting to life with two, is that it’s a long slow process, thank god. In those beginning months, the baby doesn’t do anything but sleep eat and poop, as we know. While those things are more time consuming than I had remembered them to be, they are basic and simple tasks, and generally we felt that DD1 had no real change in her life with the addition of a new baby sister. At first.

But then DD2 kept growing and getting more active and seeking more attention. And this is what leaves me riddled with doubt most of the time.

Before I quit working and spent my days at home, I imagined how my time would be spent. In reality, my time is split between shepherding between the needs of both girls, intercepting the breaking of fingers of the baby, cleaning up messes from art projects and cooking projects with DD1, tearing through the playrooom like a crazed maniac as DD2 heads for the very dangerous and small parts toys from DD1 things that I was just sorta hoping she wouldn’t notice even though I knew she would, and changing diapers and giving bottle feeds and other meals.

Etc etc.

My point – the amount of “quality” time where one of them is getting my attention is very limited. Like barely any of it. This is hard for me to get my head around. It leaves me wondering, could I be spending my extremely limited “down time” differently to give them more attention, especially DD2. It seems that she’s always just sort of hanging out. When she is playing, I figure she’s happy and she can play without my full attention (unlike DD1), so I leave her be. If I hear crying, I actually ignore it until it reaches some kind of fever pitch because I figure they are working it out.

Yes. An 8 month old is working it out. You’ve heard of that before, haven’t you?

Anyhow – I find myself stuck in a place that is new to me – this place of constantly second guessing myself and worrying that there isn’t enough of me to go around. Again, no guilt, just some difficulties in adjusting to life with two. A life that is never dull for one moment, that is for sure.

The KT List August 11, 2009

I figured, Oprah does it, so why can’t I? So today, you are gonna get the inaugural KT “My Favorite Things” List.

Over the course of the past few weeks, I seized on the opportunity to go to the grocery store without my two children. It’s amazing how quickly and efficiently you can tear through a grocery store when you’re up against the great baby-preschooler clock….it’s like I can hear the hands tick-tocking at full blast in my head as I bolt through the aisles hoping for the best. But see, at least they keep me straight, DD1 and DD2. When they are along, if it ain’t on the list, it ain’t in the cart. There’s no dawdling in grocery shopping with children.

So, on these rare and wonderful opportunities to peruse the grocery store solo (and also noteworthy, I was headed to a very well-stocked and brand new grocery store by my mom’s house. Apparently I live in communist Russia circa 1982 because the Safeway by my house is so sparse, I’m in shock when I can even find a packet of frozen chicken, let alone a package of diapers) – I found some of the leading contenders in the KT list.

Now – before we go any further – let’s review some of the sad and pathetic realities of my inaugural KT list.

One – I have made it clear that I ENJOY going to the grocery store (without children). PC (pre-children), I loathed going to the grocery store. Now, I don’t really think about it, except when I’m cursing and banging my cart around my communist safeway (truthfully, i don’t go there – it’s gross. only DH gets sent there when we are low on something stupid. otherwise I just go to Whole Foods. It’s not dirty. And the flowers are pretty. Like me. Plus most Targets have groceries now thus my bi-monthly $400 benders).

Two – the items I am most excited about on my very own hot list – are from the GROCERY STORE.

Not a cool store.

Or a boutique.

Or Europe.

Or even freaking Macys.

But the GROCERY STORE.

Pathetic?

Yes.

Efficient and realistic?

Yes.

So let’s get started.

The new John Frieda Root Awakening Shampoo and Conditioner has changed my life. When I am done blow drying my hair after a shampoo with it, I look like I’ve just stepped out of the salon. Not to mention how fabulous my hair smells. I swear, when I step out of the bathroom, there is a fan blowing my hair just perfectly off my face and I can hear a gasp of pleasure from the crowd.

I actually look forward to showering so that I can use it and smell it and be oh-so-pretty. C’est vrai. Even in this 100 degree heat, for a few minutes, before I am lapping the house after a child or I step outside for one second, my hair looks good.

My other fav grocery store item – Nivea’s Touch of Happiness body wash. It might even make me happy. Seriously. Love it. I love it so much, that in anticipation of the communist regime here in Maryland, I swooped the last two off the shelves the other day at Target, figuring I’d never see it again.

I love to shower.  I smell pretty.

Now – for a non-hygienic tip – ummm….the move Julie & Julia. Shame on you if you haven’t seen it yet. Clearly if you haven’t seen this movie then you don’t love the following things:

France

Butter

Food

Super fun Valentine’s Parties

Did I mention food?

Seriously – the movie had me on a high for like an entire day and I can’t wait to see it again.

And while we are on the subject of media, I am obsessed with Discovery Health’s “I didn’t know I was pregnant“. It airs on Tuesday nights at 9pm, I think. And I really can’t look away. Are these women seriously in that much denial? Is it really possible to be in labor and NOT notice you were pregnant?  Can you really be that stupid or is denial really that powerful? Whatever the case may be, it is so incredulous, this show, that I really can’t get enough of it. Tune it. Tuesday nights are lame anyway.

After spending much of the summer at the beach, I would love to be writing about my new favorite beach cover-up that suits the needs of a busy mom on the beach – a mom who might have a few curves, shall we say, a mom who wants to look stylish and hip but is wearing something practical (and I might add, without long sleeves because unlike most beach cover-up makers, I tend to go to beaches were it’s, umm, hot out) – but I still have yet to find said beach cover-up. I keep looking and looking. This cover-up will make it to the top of my list when I find her. I have to believe she is out there.

I thought about writing about some of my favorite things for DD1 and DD2. But let’s keep this about me, shall we?

Tune in again kittens. This won’t be my first and last KT List.

The Squeaky Wheel August 7, 2009

I grew up in a household where the phrase “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” was embedded in our brains from a very early age. If any injustice was brought upon myself or any of my three other sisters, there was hell to pay, via my  mother. I vividly remember her at school and going to parent meetings with a list. At times, I found it embarrassing, but sometimes it was awesome. Like when it was 60 below zero in Iowa City in the winter of 1994 and my friends and I asked my mom to call the president of the University to express her horror that classes hadn’t been cancelled.  Sadly her complaints didn’t work that time.  But we appreciated her moxie.

Anyhow – don’t get me wrong. I know and believe there is a difference between complaining too much and speaking up when it’s important. I don’t want my feelings to fall on deaf ears (a lesson DD1 is learning now because she dramatically exclaims “owwwww” to everything, my fav being when I apply sun block. Yeah, that hurts, kid.).

One example is it seems every spring, there is an increase in the number of unleashed dogs by the swings at the playground in my hood. I find this totally unacceptable and it frankly enrages me. So every year I post some scathing email on our hood list serv. What shocks me is the number of people who email me privately to thank me for posting, how they feel the same but fear posting something. What the f? What do they think is going to happen to them? Some neighbor is going to egg their house? I mean – hello – it’s against the law in our county to have your dog off the leash.  Not to mention it is putting your young child at risk when unleashed dogs approach them – why would I keep my mouth shut? It shouldn’t even be a topic of discussion.

And so this brings me to today’s issue – which is not against the law – and was new territory for me. We were at a playdate with DD1’s new school classmates and one mom got to telling us that one of the kids in the class has such severe allergies that last year in the 3s class, they couldn’t have playdoh because she might put it in her mouth, they could only bring goldfish and saltines for class snack and that class wasn’t able to participate in the  fun cooking projects they do on occasion.

I was dumbfounded. First of all, teach your kid not to put things in her mouth that are so dangerous. Second, let that kid’s parents bring a separate snack -why should all the other kids have to eat goldfish as snack for 9 months? She eats lunch at school – so clearly she can be around other food and the school is already a nut-free zone.

But it’s the no cooking that gets me. Why should 7 other kids have been penalized all year just because of that kid and her allergies? If it’s so bad, then the parents should keep her home on the cooking days. Why did all those other kids have to miss out too?

And what was up with the parents in that class for tolerating and accepting that? Am I a bitch or are we too accepting and sympathetic of a society sometimes?

After running my intentions by my husband, the old filter in our house, I emailed the teacher to inquire if all of this was true and if the same restrictions would apply to this year’s class? I have a real beef with the cooking issue though I also think 4 year olds can learn to not put playdoh in their mouths (and should be way beyond that point anyway). I haven’t gotten a response just yet. My email was polite and a simple inquiry.

But mark my words – no kid of mine is missing out on the cooking at school this year. What would you have done?

Perfection August 4, 2009

There’s this idea floating out there that simultaneously perplexes me and irritates the hell out of me. It’s this notion of being the perfect whatever – perfect mother, perfect body, perfect spouse (puke), perfect employee. Perfection.

What does that mean?

And what happens when you are perfect?

And who decides what makes you perfect?

With motherhood, is it being happy and patient with your children, always having cleverly planned activities for them balanced with developmental playtime at home? Is it also balancing your career and your house and your marriage while being a superb mother? Is it also having a great body and perfectly coiffed hair and outfits whenever you step out of your home?

Give me a freaking break.

Seriously – it’s the same as striving to be some kind of supermom. Or super-employee. Or model like body.

Why do people hold themselves up to this unattainable and absurd standard all the time? Why do I constantly hear people talking about it? What does any of it prove? Are people really so insecure that somehow they believe that if they attain this definition of perfection, then their life will somehow improve?

And why does it irritate me so? I mean, I am dramatically rolling my eyes and throwing up in my mouth whenever I hear someone say it – whether it’s some naive preggo who has no idea what kind of mack truck is going to hit them when the baby arrives or some annoying parent or some dumb TV anchor doing another feature on supermoms.

I think it annoys me because it’s a waste of time and emotion.
But the truth is, we all hold ourselves up against someone for some reason. We might not admit it, but I’m pretty sure we do – even if we know it’s silly – we are still doing it. Even if we’re not even striving for perfection. Sometimes I might just be striving to get out the door with brushed teeth.

Usually, I think this happens because someone in our circle of friends has achieved a milestone in their life that we haven’t but very much want too – whether that be career accomplishments, marriage, the birth of a child, buying a new home. Maybe for some it’s even buying a vacation home.

Last week, I read a column in the Washington Post by Carolyn Hax about this very topic. I really recommend everyone read it. The basic idea being that someone was dining with friends, all of whom are married, all the wives pregnant, and everyone seemingly successful professionally.

On the surface, it seems like this group of friends have all achieved perfection and oddly, at the same time in their lives.

Meanwhile the person writing in is single, not happy in her career and battling depression. She was looking for advice on how to not seem like a basket case in comparison. Carolyn’s response was brilliant, in my view, because she really pointed out the perspective that life is a long, windy road with many ups and downs, and what this person was getting at the dinner was a snapshot in time of those people’s lives.

This really struck a chord with me.

It’s very easy to make assumptions when all you have is a snapshot – the whole picture is never quite what it seems.

It was a healthy dose of “grass is always greener” perspective. I urge you to read it. Even if I am a week late in writing about it.

Crime & Punishment July 26, 2009

All of you avid KT fans out there know that we talk a lot about disciplining preschoolers here on KT. I have a veritable hoodlum living chez moi and as any parent knows, we must creatively re-invent our punishments constantly, otherwise they fall on deaf ears.

My current punishment du jour is this “If you land in 2 time outs, then you don’t get a popsicle for lunch.” (This is usually threatened by oh – about 6:24am, with the first time out locked in by 7am. And of course, I am pretty generous, for to use the timeout too much with my hoodlum is a total waste of time and energy).

It’s working. But this one has only been used for a few days.

Ahh…behold the power of the sweet, easy to melt, unbelieveably cheap popsicle. Who knew?

The old rules chart worked pretty well for about 2 weeks. Then it lost its luster. The cheap thrill of drawing a smiley face next to one of the followed rules quickly grew boring. And really, who can blame her.

I’m thinking of bringing back the rules chart, however, as it’s been a few weeks and I scored some new stickers at Target’s One Spot (where, am I alone in this, I easily wrack up like $20 to my final bill because not everything is $1).

But here is my current dilemma – finding a punishment that solely punishes DD – not me. I am not alone here people. If I take away, say, cartoons – then who am I really punishing when the going gets tough?
Me.

So I try to take away things that I either don’t care about (like popsicles) or things that tend to drag on into perpetuity (songs, stories at bed time).  Again – I should get a reward for having to endure the crime, no?

What I’m desperately searching for is a creative list of things I can also take away from her that again, only punish her, and not me. I am all ears for any ideas here…..please….I bet of you……help a sister out.

Here is a list of some offenses that warrant punishment:

Pinching mommy because she doesn’t like what I’ve just said

Assaulting baby sister under the guise of “gently playing like such a good big sister”

Taking all of baby sister’s toys away from her and then hiding from her – with the toys- because she can now crawl

The old power trip that started with the arrival of baby sister “No, I don’t want daddy to take me out of my carseat, I want mommy to do it” (because mommy has baby sister, basically whomever is preoccupied with baby sister then becomes the only person who can complete the task and this gets old after about 10 seconds but a heartfelt battle inevitably ensues several times a day complete with kicks and screams)

I could go on and on with the lists of crimes but what I’m looking for are creative punishments. And spanking – doesn’t work on this kid – I tried it. I was never sure if I would spank her. Not because I am opposed to spanking but because I just never was sure if the crime would warrant the spank. Oh indeed, that day did come and it was just obvious that the only appropriate response would be to spank her and then send her to her room.

She didn’t care. And she also likes going in time out. I’ll say “Do you want to go in time out?”

And her response is “yes.”

OK then.

Hence the need to take things away…things that only punish her and not me…..put your thinking caps on kittens…..for I am all ears.

Signed,

Pleading for ideas

Staying Home July 21, 2009

I’m 3.5 months into my new stay-at-home gig. Everyone loves to ask me how it’s going, am I getting bored yet, will I go back to work, do I like it, what is different now?

Here’s my view on adjusting to life at home after a 13 year career.

First – am I getting bored yet. I love that one. The answer to that is a resounding – NO. I dream of the day when I have time to actually get bored. Don’t you?  The correct question would be this – are you frustrated yet?

The answer to that is – it depends on the day but frustration is, indeed, a frequent and regular part of my daily routine. But I’m preaching to the choir on that one.

Will I go back to work?

I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps the novelty hasn’t worn off yet but I wouldn’t even consider going back to work right now even if some opportunity came knocking on my door. Which it hasn’t. I love being home, frustration and all. I love taking and picking up DD1 from school, I love spending my days with them, I do not even think about going back to work on my worst days.  It’s also very liberating for me to just have no career plan. It is what it is. I am home. I dig it. I am aware every day that I am lucky to have the opportunity to stay home.

One thing that is very different is my stress level. I enjoy not having to worry about a nanny being sick, if the nanny  is keeping the baby on a feed schedule, let alone the annoyance of not finding things in my own house because someone has been there all day. Of course, there are stresses that come with staying home all day – so again – it’s all just different – but I like it like that.

What is different now?

OK. This one is something I think about a lot. The truth is, I am barking at and frustrated with my husband way more now than I was before. Is this because I am home or is it because life is just harder with more kids? That I don’t know the answer too because for us, both things happened at basically the same time. But this is just the truth. You read KT because I tell it like it is – this is my new reality. Is there more bickering because we are still adjusting to life with 2 in combo with the ongoing challenges that come with a more sophisticated older child? Perhaps. The topic of discipline or failure to discipline- is a hot and regular topic around my house – and trust me – no one’s ripping their clothes off over this hot topic. The only thing rising in anyone’s body is my blood pressure.

And am I barking at DH more because I am home more now, therefore I am doing more house things – like picking up and laundry – than I did before – or am I barking at him because I spend enough time picking up after two kids, I don’t need or want a third to pick up after? I’m not sure. But don’t think I haven’t hatched a plan that includes shoving his boxers that are dropped at the foot of the laundry basket (I’m seriously not even exaggerating), or his socks strew in random rooms (did he find them there? No.) – into his pillow case – and just waiting to see how long it takes him to notice. I mean, why shouldn’t I? Do the boxers or socks belong in his pillow case any more than they belong at the foot of the laundry basket (I mean, come on) or on the dining room floor?  

So there is more barking and argumentative conversations than there was before. Would this be the case if I were still working full-time? Possibly. Would they be about different things? Probably.

So what next?

Despite the bickering, the frustration and the endless laundry, I couldn’t be happier and love not sitting behind a desk all day. Is it true that I secretly dread August, what with no camps, no grandparents in town and no help? Probably. But me and the girls will survive – we have fun every day.  It’s totally worth it.