Don’t Give Up on the Boys July 19, 2008

My son is 2 1/2. He is the sweetest, cuddliest thing around. Way more cuddly than my daughter was at this age – he still wants to get into bed and snuggle in the morning, which usually gains me an extra 30 -45 minutes of sleep – which I am all for. He also just comes over to me during the day and wants to sit on my lap – with his pacifier in mouth and his head on my shoulder, he is still my little babe…

I want to remember this time for when he is 15 and 16 years old and struggling to put as much space between me and himself as he possibly can, and I don’t want to remember this in order to embarrass him, but instead to remind me that he isn’t all gruff talk and gangling limbs – that underneath all that adolescent awkwardness and angst – he remains a sweet, and sensitive, and confused child. I think too often we just let our boys drift – we go all psycho on our daughters and all of a sudden over analyze their every move and action once they hit about 14, but somehow boys are able to drift right along. 

As I teacher I heard over and over again “Oh, he’s just acting like a boy”, “Boys, will be boys”, which are such hollow empty phrases – when our boys really do deserve better. This attitude is like giving a child a free pass to behave however they want. I don’t agree. I think as a whole we need to hold our boys to higher standards and also keep them closer…

My mother recently acknowledged that she should have spent more time worrying about my brother. She wishes that she had made more time for him, to get to know him better. He is 36 now and married, and while he and my mother do have a relationship, so much of it is simply cordial – there isn’t that knowledge there that comes with asking the deep questions and taking the time to listen.

My brother turned out fine and all that, but it was always my sister and I who were the recipients of those “talks” – which lasted well into adulthood and for the most part which I guess I finally outgrew when I became a mother myself – maybe it was because I finally started behaving better, who knows.  However, my mother and I still talk a lot, about everything under the sun, and maybe part of it can be explained away because as women we do go through similar experiences, but I think if you take that position it is too easy of a cop-out.

The point is my mother regrets all those years when my brother was lost to her – he was always a good kid, played hockey, stayed above water in school – but if he tended to drift around on the weekends, or missed his curfew, or slept most of the day – there was nothing…

I don’t want to be in this position with my son…

The Mother I Am… May 7, 2008

I often wonder what kind of a mother I am. Where do I fit on the spectrum of motherliness? And what exactly is on that spectrum anyway? I say this not because I am insecure in my relationship with my children, but I  wonder what kind of a mother I am in relation to my own mother.

I have been thinking a lot about that lately – about the things my mother did, and didn’t do, and I wonder why she made particular decisions. For example, why did she think it was a good idea for me to get a perm in grade 4? Looking back at family pictures it certainly wasn’t because it was attractive.

I wonder why on earth she didn’t censor the make up choices I made in Grade 7? I mean I realize it was the early 80’s, but come on, the blue frosted eye shadow up to my eyebrows was a bit much! I wonder this particularly because my mother always looked so put together, and I don’t recall seeing any family photos of her with blue eyeshadow up to there!

I also wonder about recent comments my mother has made to me, that she allowed my brother too much freedom, and that she wasn’t there emotionally for him when he most needed it.

I wonder all these things as I slowly engage in the struggle to raise both a daughter and a son. And by struggle I don’t mean in the sense that it is a chore that I could do without. I mean struggle in the sense that not a day goes by that I do not engage in making decisions, and sorting through choices – whose outcomes and resolutions will impact the lives of all involved.

These moments of choice can be overwhelming at times. Moments building upon moments – as each decision rests upon the one that came before - and your destination becomes something that was not recognizable at the outset.

My children are still young, but time has a way of moving at lightning speed once you become the grown up, and I see choices having more weight to bear as the future draws near. I trust that I will be ready to make these decisions as my children grow older, and that they will join me in this journey as they become more able to take part.

However, I am already set to veto the blue eyeshadow…

What are we celebrating? December 13, 2007

What happened to children’s birthday parties?  Whatever happened to having some kids over to your house, or your backyard (maybe to the bowling alley or a movie if you were lucky), playing pin the tail on the donkey, having cake and ice cream, and calling it a day?  When did things change?  I guess it was somewhere between the time I turned twelve and when my daughter started going to birthday parties, which was about six months ago. 

You’ve come a long way humble birthday party!  In all fairness to the birthday party I do live in Manhattan where things are often larger than life and space is at a premium so it is not always possible to have a party in your own home.  However, it seems like kiddie birthday parties are a big thing everywhere – according to the amount of coverage it receives in national magazines. 

This is my first year of the “birthday party”.  My daughter is only four so we are at the cusp of the madness that might descend upon us when it comes to birthday parties.  At least the type of party that is expected of you from the preschool crowd.  First of all it has become necessary to invite the entire class (at 20 kids in my daughter’s class this seems like sheer lunacy) because heaven forbid you would want to upset a child.  Some parents do try to circumvent this by inviting only “all the girls”, or “all the boys” in the class.  It has also become a necessity to invite siblings – both younger and older – and hey, why not bring along both mom and dad at the same time.  This leads to massive amounts, of what I consider to be, “unnecessary people”; a ridiculous amount of junky toys that are disguised as gifts; and turns a four year old’s birthday party into an event that parallels my wedding for the amount of planning that went into the “big day”.

The preschool that my daughter attends suggests that “young children can not handle large parties, therefore it is best to invite two or three friends and to keep activities to a minimum”.  As an educator I agree.  However, it appears that none of the preschool parents listen – as they continue to invite the entire class, and siblings, and parents to the blessed celebration.  The venues tend to become a little crazier each year as well - puppet theaters, painting studio, gymnastics studios, Build-a-Bear.  One family I know rented out a disco for the their daughter’s fifth birthday.  Close to 100 people were there – there was a candy and ice cream bar for children, an open bar for parents, disco dancing lessons, make-up stations – which is all ridiculously ostentatious.  I shudder to think at what the plans might be for her 16th birthday!

I am all for small family celebrations with a few close friends.  Doing dorky things like decorating cupcakes together, and choosing a special meal to cook and eat.   A birthday should definitely be a celebration – but it should have more to do with how your child came into your life – sharing birth stories, or stories from what it felt like the first time you held your child, looking through photo albums together and talking about funny moments from different years – creating a time line, scrapbook or journal that you and your child can add to each year and remark upon the growth – that is what birthdays are all about.  Not the pile of presents, or the over the top party that leaves everyone exhausted, and cranky, and definitely does not honor the child – but only leaves a funny taste in your mouth…. 

Where did all my free time go?… December 10, 2007

Sitting at home alone, I cannot help but think what I might be missing out on.  What do people do after dark?  I guess I used to have an idea, but I don’t think I ever really capitalized on it.  Having all that freedom – before children arrived that is.  What did I used to do?  How did I spend my time? 

I know that I spent a lot of time curled up on our couch watching Law and Order reruns (I can never seem to remember exactly who does what in each episode, therefore I continuously become sucked into watching them over and over again), drinking peppermint tea, and eating some variation of snack food.  I guess occasionally I also must have worked out – either taking my time and going to a yoga class, or trying to fit in a run after work.  But how exactly what was I trying to fit a run into?  What the heck else did I do with my life before I had children?

Sure, I worked – but I became really good, really fast at not bringing my work home with me.  I had a husband – but he was usually too busy working late to include in my evening plans – yes we did have the occasional weeknight dinner together, and I know that he also came home for the odd meal which usually meant I would have to either cook him something to eat, or decide which take out menu to use.
I was also working on my master’s degree – but in retrospect I really wasn’t that busy all of the time – especially compared to the busyness of having children.  The reality of being on call 24/7 differs from work schedules, dinner dates, and assignment deadlines.

Not to denigrate the work of others who do not have children.  They are busy doing important work – leading full lives, enjoying themselves, establishing themselves in their careers and creating relationships.  I don’t take away their busyness and say that it is all pointless compared to the busyness of those with children.  However, I do know that it is just different somehow – and I really do not know what it can be compared to. 

I believe it is the resulting lack of “me” time that is built into your day as a mother that can be the most difficult to accept.  Especially when you had some sort of life, engaged in something fulfilling before you had children.  Independence of career, of financial stability, of coursework, and having the freedom to do what you want with your life are pretty much taken for granted by young women – who are not always prepared for the unending commitment that comes with the birth of your first child.  It takes a great effort to remain your self through the entire process, which I believe is completely important in maintaining your sense of sanity.  But there is no doubt about it, your entire life will change. 

I have likened it to Marine boot camp – where you are completely stripped down to nothing and then slowly built back up again.  I believe this is a necessary process on the path to motherhood, and really fatherhood to for that matter.  It is absolutely amazing how demanding a little 7lb bundle of a baby can be – and how you will adapt your entire life around this little being at the snap of their finger. 

The role of a parent in these early stages is really to render one’s self helpless – to absolutely give yourself over to your child – respond to their every need – let them know that you are there for them.  There is too much talk about spoiling a child by picking them up too much, or by responding to every cry – it is extremely hard to spoil a newborn – they need love unconditionally, as sleep deprived as you may be.  Besides spoiling has more to do with the level of consumer consumption that your child undergoes in their lifetime – how quickly you respond to their requests to “have, have, have” – rather than simply holding your child in the middle of the night when they have had a bad dream.

Now that my children are somewhat older (4 years and 20 months), I do see “me” moments slipping back into my life.  There is now time for sips, and sometimes even cups, of peppermint tea; some mornings I can finish most sections of the newspaper; requests are not as demanding, or at least they can wait, until Mommy is finished reading the page, stirring the soup, brushing her teeth.  I don’t take these moments for granted as I once did – time by myself has become precious – now if I could only do something about those bloody Law & Order reruns!

My own private energy crisis… December 6, 2007

At what age do you lose the ability to leap out of bed and face the day with boundless energy and enthusiasm?  At what age do you all of a sudden find yourself in dire need of a dose of caffeine before you can even contemplate putting together a complete thought?  And trust me some days the dose needs to be heavier than others!

I ask myself these questions as my two children bound into our bedroom – terrier-like – anywhere between the hours of 5:30 a.m. and 7:00 a.m.  A few mornings last week my 20  month old son believed it to be most engaging to begin his day at 4:30 a.m.  Not very thoughtful of him, I say.

I am not that far gone that I have forgotten what it was like to have an endless supply of energy.  I am just not sure when things changed, exactly.  Perhaps, at some point in college.  After all, that is the point in my life when I began to drink copious amounts of coffee.  A self-perpetuating ritual of dumping about half a tin of milk, and equal amounts of sugar into a paper cup.  At least at that point in my life if I didn’t really feel like awakening and going to class I didn’t really have to.  Most of my morning classes were taught in large sections, so unless there was an exam that day no one would notice my absence.  Plus, college was also a time in my life when I could party with the best of them until about 3:00 a.m. or 4:00 a.m. and still make it through the next day on 2 or 3 hours of sleep.  Oh, if only I could have kept some of that energy on reserve.

Prior to having children I often bounded out of bed myself on weekends, much to the annoyance of my husband.  Unless of course we were out drinking the night before – a graduate school custom that we perhaps outgrew a little later than others.  In my previous life as a childless woman – I was often awake at first light.  Now I could easily fall asleep bathed in the atomic glow of the sun at high noon!  Saturdays were often my long-run days (again, this neatly fits into my previous life) and 6:30 a.m. or 7:00 a.m. always seemed like a good time to start – especially in the summer when the heat and humidity always provided an easy excuse not to run at all.

I think the practice of practically mainlining caffeine began with the introduction of children into our sleep patterns.  Having the second child only intensified the need to drink as much coffee in the shortest period of time possible.  I find myself exhausted in the morning.  My children sleep through the night, I generally fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, and on most nights I get at least seven hours of sleep.  That may not sound like much – but trust me in parenting lingo seven hours of uninterrupted sleep is a small slice of heaven.   My energy crisis has less to do with what happens at night, and more with what happens during the day.  Energy is sucked out of me in little fits and bursts – right from the early hours until it is lights out for the kid-lets at 8:00 p.m.  It is all the usual suspects of modern life – combined with children – unanswered emails, phone calls to return, books to read, games to play, articles to write, research to conduct, meals to prep and cook, husbands to look after, relatives to worry about, presents to buy, groceries to order – and so on, and so off.  I am not complaining – I love my kids, I love my life, I just hope that the price of coffee doesn’t go up….

Who Knew? December 5, 2007

Last night’s dinner – a rather thrown together affair, but one that came out just right.  I usually eat with my kids at 5:00 or 5:30.  My day usually starts at 6:00 a.m., so I am ready to call it dinner at that time.  Yesterday worked out differently – at least for a week night.  First of all my husband said that he would actually be home for dinner.  He travels a great deal, and on many of the nights that he is not traveling he is eating dinner with clients in lavish steakhouses. 

Secondly, my husband had a rather odd request that he wanted “some sort of bean and couscous dish – maybe with some mint or basil thrown in.  You must have a recipe for something like that in one of your vegan cookbooks”.  Odd for my husband, because he is a full blown carnivore.  If he could figure out how to have steak for three meals a day he would do it – thankfully the idea of steak smoothies have not caught on!  Although, to give my dear husband a break – his palate has expanded to include – tofu, and tempeh, and a greater assortment of vegetables over the past few years.  However, one thing he has refused to grasp onto is the whole “bean thing”.  So, after I picked my jaw up off the floor – I got to work – or I at least thought about getting to work.

Problem #1 – the cookbook that has an awesome bean salad recipe in it is at our cabin.  So, on to plan B – which is to say I began to improvise.  I can do this – I wrote a bloody post on the concept yesterday – so I should be able to pull something out of my hat.  The first thing that needs to happen when you begin to improvise in the kitchen is to give yourself permission to not follow a recipe.  We have become an nation of expert-followers – and are often hesitant or unsure what to do if there is not one in the vicinity.  I know what flavors work together – plus,  I have certainly cooked enough beans in my lifetime to be able to pull something together. 

So, what to do.  Can of black beans in the pantry, excellent (okay, I live in a small Manhattan apartment so I don’t actually have a pantry – but it sounds so grown up), frozen corn in freezer.  I have olive oil and red wine vinegar, salt and pepper so I can throw all that together for some sort of dressing.  Perfect, shallots in the cupboard, I will add one of those.  I will pick up some cilantro, couscous, red peppers, and some kale to serve as a side-dish.  The peppers were a bust at the market 11.99/lb – which is a tad bit ridiculous – so I found a jar of roasted red peppers in my fridge that will work just as well.  I get home throw everything together except for the couscous (and kale, of course), to let the flavors have some time to meld in the fridge.

Feed the kids at their usual time – I am going to eat with my husband after the kids are in bed.  I make the children ravioli and roasted green bean (amazing! Recipe to follow), and kiwi.  I tell them that the green beans are “green bean french fries” and serve them with ketchup.

Kids are in bed.  Remove bean mixture from refrigerator and bring to room temp.  Boil some water – add some couscous and vegan margarine.  Remove from heat, let sit for five minutes.  Mix couscous and bean mixture.  I get a little crazy at the end and slice an avocado and add pine-nuts to the mix – and voila!  Sort, of a kitchen sink approach, but it all worked out in the end.  I never did make the kale.  The roasted green beans I made were incredible (thanks to Veganomicon) I finished the rest of the batch off, which must have been about 3/4 of a lb. 

So, a relatively quick and easy meal.  The green beans were wilting in my refrigerator and my first thought was to steam them and do the usual toss in vegan margarine and watch my children, and myself, try to gag them down.  I am not really that fond of green beans, but for some reason feel compelled to buy them.  Anyway, I have become a devotee after one simple recipe from Veganomicon for roasted green beans- I know it sounds crazy, but trust me.  Preheat oven at 400; trim green beans; toss in olive oil, salt, and pepper (I also added some bread crumbs – but you could just as easily add vegan parm, or nutritional yeast); throw them in the oven for 15 minutes – and then come out crunchy, and tender, and yummy, and just go out and buy some green beans and try them…

My First Girl’s Weekend… December 1, 2007

So, here I am on my first girl’s weekend.  Okay, it is really a weekend spent with my four year old daughter, but that still counts as a girl’s weekend, right?  The two of us headed up to the Adirondacks yesterday afternoon, leaving my husband and 20 month old son in the city.  My husband was the one to encourage the two of us to come here by our selves,which everyone I have talked to said was, “very brave of him”, but I am not sure what exactly the “brave” part is – it is his son after all,  and nobody tells me how “brave” I am when I spend time alone with the children, but I don’t really expect anyone too – such is the plight of a mother – but I digress…

We had an uneventful drive last night, although we did hit quite a bad snow storm which made conditions a little treacherous for the last 30 miles, but we arrived intact.  After a quick snack, it was bed for both of us.  The morning started slow enough – we slept in until 7:00 (my son generally awakens at 5:30, so trust me 7:00 was a luxury).  My daughter did some crafty things, I had a shower, we waited for some lumber to be delivered, and for someone to come measure our kitchen.  Not much was planned for the afternoon – I thought we would go out for lunch, grab some groceries for dinner, and then go to the nursery to see what we could plant in the Spring, and then go to Main Street and look at some shops. 

Well, we never made it past lunch and the grocery store.  Lunch was a disaster – behavior and attitude wise – from my dear daughter.  Up, and down, and all around!  You would think that we have never eaten in a restaurant before.  Generally, when we do eat out – my daughter is quite content with sticker books, drawing paraphernalia, and the odd children’s book.  However, today she was having none of it.  I had brought along some new little sticker books for her, and my writing journal – hoping to generate some ideas and brainstorm.  I don’t think I need to go into details – I am sure that most parents have experienced very similar situations, and most non-parents have witnessed someone else going through the same experience and have thanked their lucky stars that they do not have children!

The car ride home was not happy – lecturing, and tears, a raised voice on my part, and promises to behave starting “right this minute” on the part of my daughter.  Didn’t feel like buying any of it – so we got groceries and spent the rest of the afternoon at home. 

It was at home that I had my “epiphany”.  I happened to pick up a book that I received for Christmas last year entitled, Graceful Parenting, by Eve M. Dreyfus, M.D.  I was hoping to be inspired for some magazine articles that I hope to submit in the coming weeks.  Instead, what I found were these words that lept out to me -

• children do not purposely misbehave, they are not tyring to hurt you or make your life hard, they are doing the best they can
• you don’t need to yell to get your point across
• don’t expect too much from your child – instead learn what to expect from your child at each age

 All sage advice, which of course I wish I had been reminded of before we went out to lunch!  Upon further reflection there was a lot going on at the lunch that I didn’t acknowledge.  First, my expectations were for a nice, quiet, mature meal – where I could spend some time working – while my daughter entertained herself for part of the meal – she obviously had different expectations.  Second, we sat in a booth with a large bench that was perfect for sliding across and driving your mother crazy – we also sat right next to a glass partition that separated the bar from the restaurant – it was a great temptation to my daughter to stand up and see what was going on in the other room.  Third, she was greatly distracted by a large group where a young girl and her brother were running all over the restaurant (which also drives me crazy, but clearly delighted my daughter).  In reality, my daughter didn’t throw food across the restaurant, she didn’t start screaming like a banshee, and for the most part she stayed in her seat (expect for the peeking across the partition), we even managed to have some funny conversation and giggles – not bad for lunch with a four year old. 

As an educator I know what to expect from young children.  It is difficult to change your thinking  mid-stream when you expect more out of your own child than you know they are really capable of achieving.  As I read the sentences listed above, I reached over to my daughter on the couch, gave her a big hug, and told her I loved her.  Her dimpled smile was what I expected.  We will try again tomorrow – and take our weekend one moment at a time…

The Good Father November 28, 2007

What does it take to be a good father?  Well, quite simply that depends on the day the question is asked, and on who is asking the question.  My husband, the father of my children, travels a great deal.  It is not uncommon for him to not be home all week – or to roll into the house in the wee hours – only to head out onto another trip a couple of hours later.  At first our four year old would often wonder where Daddy was now, and maybe even shed a few tears that she misses him.  However, lately it has just come to be a thing that she has accepted – which I am not always sure is a good thing. 

I often resent this travel.  Not becasue I believe it to be something exciting that I am missing out on – believe me, I can think of better things to do than travel to Houston for a day trip.  I resent the travel for the disruption that it causes in our day to day interactions and growth as a family.  On most days it feels that I am the one left to raise the children on my own.  Thankfully they are an easy lot, and they are still young so there is not too many activities or emotions to work on managing at the moment.  But it would be nice to have a shoulder to lean on , and I don’t think it is asking too much to eat dinner together as a family a couple of times a week.

Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a wonderful provider.  He has his eye on the future and manages our money and resources appropriately.  And I do not dare to compare myself to a single mother who often has very few people on the horizon to give her a break.  And of course I tend to over-analyze these things.  I try to distance myself from the “women’s magazine hysteria” that is centered around all the things that you can potentially do wrong to screw up your kids.  I revert back to all the times in history when two parents were not around all the time and that in all honesty I do not really know anyone who had a “normal” upbringing – again brought to you by women’s magazines and the hallmark company – where the family sits around the table eating together and laughing and sharing the days joys and triumphs. 

Do I sound bitter?