How Do Babies Get Out?

How do babies get out?

 

I was so much happier to get this question then how do they get in.  Whew!!!  I had my first baby naturally (whatever that means) and my second c-section.  So I quick ran through where the first one came out and then got to the interesting scar for the second one, hoping to not have to explain how it got in or how that tiny little spot lets out a kid.  My mom was sitting with me for this and then she got in the act showing her scar.  I don’t know why my 6 year old always has to ask this question when I am unprepared.  Can’t she submit an agenda?  I need to be prepared with more professional mommy answers.  I was lucky my mom was a fantastic explainer and very open in our conversations regarding all things sexual or body function related.  I hope to mimic that but am somehow more of a prude than my 65 year old mom.  How did that happen?  I am also very aware that my 6 year old loves to share personal conversations with EVERY SINGLE child she knows, and some she just meets in the playground.  I of course had to remind her that unlike sharing stories of her friends or cousins rashes she is not to share our latest discussion.  I expect tomorrow it will be on the blackboard of her first grade class.

Inspiration

Generally I like to write funny things.  Things that I know all parents can relate to. Even when you feel you are alone you find out that so many others are experiencing exactly what you are. Today I got really inspired.  My oldest daughter is very similar to me in looks and personality.  Of course, we all try to work on our flaws by teaching our kids how to be better than we are, to reach for the stars and believe in themselves.  I took my daughter to an ice skating party today.  My daughter has never ice skated and I am no pro.  I am not even a terrible amateur.  My status could well be described as pitiful.  In fact, when my ever-supportive best friend found out I was headed to the rink she laughed me right off the phone.  (Hmmmfph!!!) Why I was the parent who ended up taking my daughter-- when my husband has skated in his adult life, and would have made a much better teacher-- I don’t know. I can only suppose I was thinking about hot chocolate and the sidelines. So, I take my daughter to the rink and am about to dump her off to the very capable instructors when I see the terror that I often see in my own face when taking on something new.   I even tell my daughter that for fear of getting stitches she doesn’t have to skate if she doesn’t want to.   I try to be supportive with the you-can-do- it, try-your-best attitude, but against my better judgment and a huge dose of parental guilt I go put on a pair of skates.  I was nothing short of embarrassing-- clinging to a 2-inch ledge of wall since there is no railing to hold on to.  I was thinking how much I hate the ice, the cold, the fact that I can’t dance to the great music playing for fear of getting stitches when an ice guard tells me there is a private party and we must vacate the wall.  “WHAT???!!!”  I say, “we can’t get across there”-- an obvious tremor to my adult voice.  The ice guard takes pity on us and lets us slide. Thankfully, not literally.  We make it what feels like three miles back to the start and--lucky us--it is time for pizza.  I almost bend to kiss the ice but fear I will never make it back to standing.  We have our pizza and I am trying to stall when we visit the facilities and my daughter says, “Hey Ma, I think that we can do this”.  “Really”, I answer.  “Yeah, ‘cause I know that practice makes perfect and if we try really hard we can skate without the wall”.  “Really”, I answer.  Now I am afraid and trying not to show it because my daughter isn’t and I don’t want her to be. She goes on with her little determined self and makes me get back on the ice and try to skate without touching the wall. After a while I give up (after all there is hot chocolate waiting for me in the nice, safe party room).  She does several more rounds, takes a spill on the ice, recovers and commits to getting away from that wall, and being the brave girl I wish I was.  That’s my inspiration.

The Law of Supply and Demand

Why is it that the toy that never gets played with gets cried over when finally discovered by a sibling or a stranger?

 

I am thinking of putting a stranger on my payroll that plays with all the unused, unwanted toys in my house till they regain their popularity.  It would certainly be cheaper than going out and buying more toys we have no room for.  For now I will just ask my toddler to play with the giant Bratz microphone or the dusty dance mat that barely makes an appearance from its spot under the bed.  Then of course her big sister will suddenly renew her interest in them.

 

I have always been an advocate of hiding the excess birthday gifts for rainy day surprises but you can only get away with that till your kids are like 3 (if your lucky).  In an apartment it is kind of hard to hide toys, they are usually under a bed or in the bottom of a toy chest.  There’s a spot my kids never look.  Good reason never to have a toy chest unless you plan on rotating it every 2 weeks so they will actually know what is on the bottom.  You can also get a clear bin so at least your kids can see what’s on the bottom.  I can say with absolute certainty that no more than 5 toys per child are actually popular at any one time in most households.  We all know our children have their favorites but everything else is mainly junk we can’t wait to get rid of but won’t for fear that our children might miss it or the person who bought it three years ago may decide to pay a visit and notice it gone.  For me it is a real cleansing experience, pardon the pun, to get rid of excess toys.  The best way to do it is either alone or with the promise of something new if the old moves out.  Better yet, let’s teach our kids to give their unwanted toys to charity.  Happy Spring cleaning!

I Need Money

“Mom how do I get money”, my five year old asks?  “Well, when you are a little older mom and dad will give you an allowance so you can learn all about how to handle money”.  “ I am going to need a lot”, she tells me.   “Really”.  I can’t imagine what she will need all this money for although I picture lots of extra Hannah Montana trinkets and stickers all over my apartment.  “Well”, I tell her when you get a little older you’ll get a job.”  “Oh”, she says.  “What will I do?”  I say, “well, hopefully something you love so you will be successful and make lots of money.” Ahhh always the dreamer, I discuss many of her talents with her like egg cracker, hair brusher, plate cleaner, trick or treat professional, chop buster, common great kid jobs.  She says “I am going to be an artist.”  “Great,” I say.  “Then a fashion designer.”  “Ooooh,” I say.  “I can make stuff for you” she says. ”Yeah,” I say, she still likes me obviously.  Now she starts coming up with all kinds of ideas for what she will design for me.  I am thinking now of not encouraging fashion design.  Lastly she tells me she is also going to drive a limosine but she still doesn’t understand that the successful part of limo is when you are being driven in it, not driving it.  I love five.

What's on the menu at your house?

What’s on the menu at your house?

 

What’s wrong with me?  What’s wrong with more than half the mom’s I know.  How many meals do you make every night to satisfy the needs of the members of your household?  Where is society headed?  I never ate something different then my mom and dad ate unless you include NOTHING!!  That’s right!  If I didn’t eat what mom made for dinner, I didn’t eat.  Surely my mom and dad were lucky to have eaten at all.  Here I am only second generation in this country and I have to feed my husband organic, my oldest something involving pasta or chicken nuggets and my youngest something with rice and beans or a variation of cold cuts.  Then to top it off the oldest goes running to the pantry after her plate is empty looking for her instant gratification sugar rush.  The nerve.  There is no “may I be excused.” There is barely the acknowledged rule of cleaning off the plate and placing it in the sink.  With the economy in the toilet and the dollar in my house requiring a little extra stretch Annie will not prove the only “hard knocks” talk in my house.  I think dinner a la carte is through, it is time for the eat it or starve special.  Can I do it?  Could you?