Binkytown

Are you a Wimp?

In the early days when I would pick up my son, still an infant, from his day care I would often see loads of children milling around the play area. The teachers would be spread out among the playground equiptment but rarely would I see them fully engaged in play with the kids. I chalked it up to end of the day exhaustion; I know I would be wiped after spending the day with fifteen toddlers. Little did I know that this was not kid-burn-out as I had assumed...

Read my review of A Nation of Wimps: The High Cost of Invasive Parenting at the Full Mommy.

Ill tell you what I want, what I really really want

Except I don't know.

I saw my sister yesterday and she asked what our Mother's Day plans were. We don't have any.

My husband's family celebrates it quietly with a card and a phone call to Mom. My family always has had a get-together, although not necessarily on that day, and provided gifts for Mother's day, which really, feels more and more strange to me the older I get.

We could go out to breakfast, with scores of other families in a loud crowded place, but that really doesn't sound like much fun. Besides, who will be in charge of making sure we have toys, spare clothes, a potty seat, wipes, the light blue sunglasses (not the dark blue ones) and miscellany packed to go? Oh right, that would be me. Hmmm. 

I am much more likely to feel emotional or mom-ish on my son's birthday. To me, a child's birthday is something a mother always shares, even though the focus is entirely directed elsewhere. That's a day when you can reflect and recognize more than the day to day tasks and feel a real sense of accomplishment, of progress. A random Sunday in the middle of the month of May? Not so much. Maybe this changes as your children get older and Mother's day becomes something you can build a tradition on or where family memories are created. We are not there yet. So what I wish for this Mothers Day, I wish for mothers everywhere:

A day that is warm enough to play outside. Sunshine would be a bonus.

An afternoon nap- for both of us.

Random acts of affection: Perhaps an unexpected and unsolicited leg hug from a little man whirling through the kitchen.

A few minutes to talk to my husband uninterrupted before nine p.m.

A tasty meal. I don't care if I have to make it, I just want it to taste good.

No runny noses, coughs, band aids or crying jags that last more than five (OK seven) minutes.

Clean sheets to fall into at night, feeling content.

How do you want to be recognized this year? Check out the Parent Bloggers Network special extended Blog Blast to promote their new charitable giving site, Johnson’s Baby Cause, powered by Global Giving. As part of their responsibility to the global community, Johnson’s has hand-selected dozens of charities around the world that mirror their deep commitment to caring for the health and well-being of mothers and children - not just on Mother’s Day, but every day of the year.

If you are feeling more like damn it, you deserve a gift, I hear you - Both Johnson’s and PBN are chipping in for the prizes. Ten winners will receive a Johnson’s Mom and Baby product gift basket (thanks to Johnson’s) and $25 credit to donate to the charities of their choice at Johnson’s Baby Cause (thanks to PBN).

If you’ve got more than a few bucks to spare (or even if you don’t!), check out the celebrity-sponsored eBay auction benefiting Johnson’s Baby Cause. Bid on baby gear that’s been gently used by celebrities. (Think of how much fun it would be to brag about that at your next play date!)

         

Um. Contradict yourself much?

On whether the media should provide more realistic body ideals:

To expect that anything put out by Hollywood is going to be realistic is a bit naïve at this point. But that’s me, a 31-year-old woman, talking. If you’re a 15-year-old girl, you look at these bodies and think, How am I going to attain this?

I believe we have a responsibility in terms of disclosure about what’s touched up. More and more actresses are saying, ‘Look what they did to my waist on that photo shoot!’ that is powerful because at least it gives women a chance to express their imperfections. We owe it to girls out there to portray a healthy and true image of ourselves.

Quoting Elisabeth Hasselbeck, now appearing on the cover of Fitness Magazine, six months after the birth of her second child. In a bathing suit. And gold bracelets.

http://www.celebrity-babies.com/2008/05/elisabeth-hasse.html

He's really on to something.

Of course, I think my son is brilliant and talented and funny. He kicks a soccer ball while running like a semi-pro. He catches his football effortlessly. He cracks me up. Example: While trying desperately to convince me to buy some fruit snacks at the grocery store he said to me but mom they are so delicious and then slowly moved his tongue across his top lip in a licking-your-lips type fashion. Really, how am I to say no to that? ( I did, but it wasn't easy to do while laughing.)

He's now showing an affinity for music as well. Tomorrow is the Salamander Spring Sing at school. Three and four year olds putting on a music show. I am seriously dying from the cuteness factor already and there are 30 more hours to go. Because they practice every day he's springing up with new little tunes all the time that I've never heard before. In addition, he's starting to repeat many of the melodies he hears in passing. I was watching the Justin Timberlake HBO special while folding laundry and the chorus of "What goes around" got stuck in my head. I was singing it to no one but myself while pulling him out of the tub the other day and now he sings it all the time. If I try to sing with him, or before him, or after him, for that fact, he corrects me and says no, it's like this: and then sings the exact same thing I just did. I pulled up this video on YouTube and let him listen with headphones on and his smile went from ear to ear. It's the goes around song- he exclaimed, his eyes lit up. Oh yes it is.      

We are heading into the six month, one step backwards, two steps forward transition period. Like clockwork he's starting to plainly disobey, fall apart, yell and scream for every reason or no reason at all. I'm happy to report that I still remember the last time we went through this and I recall clearly coming out the other side and all the things I had to do to get there. I'm much more prepared and level headed about this round, and so far, hormones be damned, I've managed to persevere without completely freaking out like I did the last time. I know this is a phase and I know now is the time to metaphorically batten down the hatches. He needs clear boundaries and no exceptions and for us to tow the hard line. It can be done, but it's difficult for everybody. 

Yesterday was an amazing day. It was warm and sunny. We had the day off. We played and went out to lunch and set up race tracks. He was happy and warm and silly and I enjoyed every breath taking minute of him.

This morning he kicked and punched and refused to get dressed. Calling me on my bluff to carry him out to the car in his pajamas he looked at me defiantly and said "fine". So I did. Where he asked for real pants. (But left his shark jammy tee shirt on. I didn't even explain it apologetically to the day care teacher. I admitted it: He's still in part of his pajamas. That's how this morning went.)      

Tomorrow is another day. No, scratch that, in five hours it will be a different day for us with different moods and challenges and hopefully hugs. When he looks me straight in the eye and overturns a basket of toys I will do my best to take a deep breath and remember the wise,worldly, words of the all-of- twenty-something Justin Timberlake, because what goes around does come back around.

Waterworks

1. My husband is starting a new job (probably) May 19th. At the same company where I have worked for 13 years. Completely different area, but still, it's strange.

2. We have an old home. It needs new windows. We are trying to move little man from baby's room to the spare room we don't use and haven't touched since we bought the place. Somehow we've gone from a simple "let's repaint in here" to the entire upstairs needs new windows and must be repainted. By people other than us. For which we will shell out many dollars. Because of possible lead paint, etc. I may have to sleep in my living room for awhile. I am not sure how this happened. 

3. There is a baby coming in nine weeks

4. I have a new OB that I'm not entirely comfortable with

5. I have to decide VBAC or C Section and the choice feels monumental. No matter what good (or bad) advice anyone gives me, it's up to me and I am equally as torn

6. I have gained 40 pounds

7. I want to kick that hairdresser who cut my hair last time. I went (somewhere new) for a touch up and realized it's going to take me nine months to grow these god damned layers out

8. I have a cold

I started crying on Sunday and haven't stopped since.

The end.

   

Fast forward

Here at big city corporation it is Bring Your Child to Work Day. I'm pretty sure the Bring Your Child to Work Day people came up with this, but here at big city corporation we like rules and the rules are your child has to be nine or older to come to work with you. No screaming and pooping babes. Which I can appreciate, even though I think it would be a hoot to ogle some little teeny babies or wait patiently in the ladies room for some toddlers to finish waving their hands in front of the automatic paper towel dispensers. It would be a lovely distraction.

Some women in my department brought their daughters and while I thought they were indeed cute in their fancy dresses and shiny shoes it was the boys who made me stop in my tracks. Super adorable nine and ten year old little men, dressed in khakis and polo shirts. Long and lanky, some with glasses, walking closely down the hallways with their moms.

My boy at ten years old flashed before my eyes. 

These boys were still close enough to be comfortable walking side by side with their moms, not yet with the attitude of a teenager who wants their own space, but older than a young child who might still cling to a parent. These boys straddled that space effortlessly, walking with confidence, but not too much.

I saw my boy, a young man. Tall and skinny, a spring in his step.   

As I watched these pairs circulate around the building I thought those moms must be so proud. I was proud for them. I've said before, every milestone, every six month increment, every first day in a new classroom brings me so much joy. It means I'm doing something right, to see him growing, changing and learning as much as he does. But it also makes me sad, because sometimes I feel like I'm wishing the sometimes really challenging days away and don't appreciate this time as much as I should.   

I'm starting to really struggle at 30 weeks. Feeling a deep seeded sense of panic; This feeling of I can't do this. I haven't even worked my way up actually bringing this child home, I'm still so consumed with the physical reality of trying to maneuver in this big body and work and clean and cook and not sleep and how am I going to do this for ten more weeks? How will my body continue to grow in this space that I already feel is reaching maximum capacity?  How will my lungs collect any air at all?

Of course they will and I will, I have no choice and I know this. Every time that little voice springs up in my brain that says "I can't do this" I beat it down and ask of it, don't you know how fast the time goes? One day this will be a distant memory, just as the days before my first little man arrived are now. I wish someone, some brilliant physicist could explain to me how time seems to go so slowly yet really races past you at the speed of light and you don't notice until you look behind you.

Today I saw the future, walking in a pair of neatly ironed Dockers with me, open and bright eyed and growing up.   

    

Those were the days

A year or two after we were married, but before we had a child, my mate and I were living the high life. We purchased a duplex and rented the upstairs flat ($$), we deducted everything under the sun (totally related to the house of course) ($$), we had good jobs ($$) and disposable income ($$).

It must be noted that I was before, and am again, only buying things on sale and only when I can totally justify it. I grew up without money, have always been very frugal and had very little that was material or just plain fancy. I am hard on things, and as such, have never spent money on anything that is not easily replaced.

Around this time my husband decided to purchase a big ticket toy item, a bright yellow kayak with a hefty price tag. It cost as much as three months of day care does right now, so that's like chicken scratch in comparison today's expenses but back in those days, wow, that was a LOT. I was also working with a woman who appeared almost weekly with a new shiny bauble of some kind and had enough gold necklaces to choke an elephant. Gold necklaces=not my thing, but I kept thinking, do people really do this? Buy jewelry just because they can?

I started dropping hints that I'd like some earrings. As a gift. I knew we would move out of that duplex one day and double our mortgage payment, I knew a kid would probably arrive and diapers aren't cheap, so I thought this was my chance. It was now or never. I didn't want the ones basketball players wear that are as big as chocolate chip cookies, I was talking tasteful, little, diamond studs. I also figured if I didn't tell him he wouldn't figure it out, gifts were never big in his house growing up and he does fine, but he's not an over the top, I'm going to SO surprise you kind of guy who picks you up from work with a suitcase in the car and whisks you away to a spa. Not his style.

He mostly ignored me.  One night while watching TV a commercial came on for one of those chain jewelry stores advertising a sweetest day sale or some crap like that and I said, innocently enough, if you don't want to buy them for me I think I might buy those myself. He rolled his eyes and questioned why I would want to spend money on that. Well you bought a kayak, I observed, not because I was trying to guilt him into anything, for real, I just wanted to point out that I didn't stop him from doing that (Go ahead- ask me how many times he's used it in the past 5 years. Please.) so what was the big deal if I wanted something fun for myself?

Fast forward a couple of months. The mini obsession with the diamond earrings had faded and had been replaced by a little dog. We had a big dog and while what I really wanted was a baby, I was perfectly happy to satisfy that desire with a dog small enough to fit into my purse. I talked about it constantly. It wasn't realistic, and we decided not to do it, but I wanted it none the less.

Christmas arrived and we have a tradition. One big gift and a bunch of little miscellaneous goods wrapped up for fun. I unwrapped a stylish black leather clutch, a lovely Christmas gift and proceeded to unwrap my packages of gum, bendy straws and nail files. The last package was soft, you could squeeze it. Tearing off the paper I uncovered a teeny stuffed animal dog. Just like you wanted he said. My smile went from ear to ear. He got it, he got me, what I wanted. In his own way.

I started to pick up the paper scraps and clean up, tossing the dog lightly aside. He snatched it away quickly. What? I asked, puzzled by his attention to the pretend dog he had just thoughtfully given me.

Look again.

In the dogs ears were two pretty, delicate, stud earrings. Diamond earings.

Wow.

He totally blew me away.

I was surprised, I was touched and I was happy- in that way you get to be when someone gets you a gift that you really, really wanted but didn't expect. So clever, my man.

I have still have those earrings and wear them all the time. Except for the 5 week period in 2007 between Thanksgiving and Christmas when I left them on a shelf at my in laws house and had no idea I did that and searched frantically, all the time, for them (in drawers I never use, in the vacuum cleaner, in every pocket of everything I own) completely terrified of having to tell him that I lost them. Thank God I didn't have to. Not only because they were more costly than your average pair of earrings, but because that Christmas morning, and his creativity and thoughtfulness has yet to be outdone and I will never forget it.

The Parent Bloggers Network is collaborating with GetInHerHead.com, a free service for couples who want to get it right every time. Most men want to be better at giving, but they’re just not wired to listen as closely and remember details as well as your girlfriends do. Write your own, maybe you could win a gift certificate to your favorite spa for $250!

Check out the posts!

   

Stick people are nice, but..

Wanna make me a new banner? If you have time and want a client let me know and let me know your rates.

I already have one in mind, but alas, artistic- I am not.

Drop me a comment or if you prefer you can email me at amywojo at yahoo dot com.

And I only know this much

Is anyone following the story of the Polygamist ranch in Texas? Of the women who are starting to gain some publicity and attention?

Granted, it takes very little to make me cry on a normal day, when I'm not gestating. While pregnant it's a constant free for all, bursting into tears without warning over very minor offenses. But this, this is almost too much to handle, yet I feel like I can't look away. And I'm not just talking about the dresses and the wild, wavy, wacky hairstyles, although, that does involve some study.

It's those children. Hundreds of children. 

How does it feel if your seven year old child is in a shelter with the chicken pox and you can't be there to hold their hand. To whisper a sweet good night, to arrange the blanket just so?

To say I don't understand this lifestyle is an understatement. I am not religous, rural or young and I think two people in a marriage is quite enough thank you very much. I also think if you want to get married you should have to wait until you are 30. My husband and I don't even have a joint checking account, much less joint spouses or rules about how one conducts themselves. 

I don't know what went on there besides the obvious and that some of these mothers allowed very young daughters to be married off to very confused men, and for that, I question their judgment. From the outside, it's obvious. That's clearly the wrong choice. But for them, they must have believed they were doing the right thing for those girls. Isn't that what we all do as mothers, as parents, every day? Try and make the best decisions we can with the knowledge we have? I feel sorry for them, their grief is as plain as their face.

I agree the thirteen year old girls should be removed from the fifty year old husbands. Maybe it's worse than that, I don't know. Maybe there is compelling evidence that says these mothers need to be immediately separated from those kids. I just don't know how anyone could know that today, given the circumstances. There clearly is not a handbook to follow to deal with a situation like this. Until authorities know more, gather more, learn more about what happened, I wish those mothers could be with their children. I read that only women without children and those with babes under five were able to go back to their homes. What of the eight year olds? Experiencing the most amazing mind altering culture shock they could have ever dreamed of. Without the lifeline that they have always known.

I understand there are laws and processes to follow when a child has been abused. Law enforcement is doing their job. But the media will grow weary of this, the spotlights will fade and then what will become of them? Where will they go? Let's say half of these kids wind up in foster care or placed elsewhere. Hopefully if they are young enough they will adapt.  But their mothers. Do you think they will ever get over it? Losing a family? The conflict of being told every minute of every day that the life you lived was wrong. What you believed in, twisted. Reconciling a life, before and after.   

So much heartbreak. Past, present and future.

I'm not religious, but this is so troubling that I am tempted to say I'd like to offer up a prayer of some kind to someone about this. To ease this burden.

But it sounds like maybe that's what got them into trouble in the first place.

Vroom vroom

The Parent Bloggers Network is asking what you can do just as well as any man out there.

Hmmm.

I have no sense of direction. I can't read a map. I can't shoot a basket and have no idea what to do if my car won't start (although I'm going to register my vehicle on MyCarPage at Ask Patty, it's a start.)

I have a younger brother, five years younger who I never paid attention to. I played with Barbies, dress up clothes and make up. I never touched a toy with wheels. I knew nothing about vehicles.

Until I had a son.

I would challenge any man on the street. I know the difference between an excavator and a front loader. I can spot a gantry crane five miles away. Could they?

I can pick out a Chevy from a Ford. I know about cylinders. Good lord, I even know who Jeff Gordon is and about NASCAR. I never saw that coming. 

My house is littered with cars. Literally. They are in my shower. On my bed. In my briefcase and jacket pockets. While I'm writing this? My son is racing them across the couch and occasionally over my foot.

That's my cue. Time to go play race cars.

Check out this weekend's Blog Blast .This week, they have teamed up with Ask Patty, the premier automotive web site for women, to promote their new feature - MyCarPage.  You can read more posts and maybe win a nifty gadget for both men and women!