Fruit in my dessert

Stop Pretending

Many of you know about my fairly well documented "issue" of staying up way past my bedtime. I have long blamed my parents (duh) for having this problem because they gave me a tv for Christmas one year and I stayed up late every night watching David Letterman - in the days when he wasn't on until 12:30, and then there was the fact that my dad always worked really late (in our basement) so I had someone to stay up with, even though we weren't in the same room or even on the same floor - at least until I got older and he'd be up when I came home from a night out and we'd watch Cops and eat ice cream until 1am. But I digress.

I have tried all sorts of things to "correct" my problem, including a reward chart - something I don't even do with my children! No, it wasn't a joke, but it was a spectacular failure. I have also tried to get B-husband involved and invested, thinking that two people changing a habit is better than one - and heck - he falls asleep on the couch all the time, so getting him to bed before he passed out seemed like it could be a fun challenge for both of us. Well, either there are ALWAYS "special" sporting events that go late or my timing was just bad [says the girl typing next to her husband watching the BCS Championship game]. Nothing works, not consistently anyway.

What's the big deal, you ask? So you go to bed a little late...get over it. Well, I'm one of those people who needs a good 7 to 8 hours - and everyone who has to deal with me when I don't get it always wishes I did. I mean I can function without it - for days, even weeks - but I'm much snippier, snappier, crankier...and INefficient and UNfocused, which makes me even snippier, snappier, crankier. Throw in a 2-year-old who acts like a 2-year-old and a 5-year-old who sometimes acts like a 3-year-old and you wind up with a 30-ahem-year-old who acts like a 2-year-old. Add some work frustration, logistics issues, and a slightly imperfect husband on the third Tuesday of the second month of the year...you get the picture.

What dawned on me tonight is what I think is the ROOT cause of my issue. It's not my parents' fault for buying the tv, it's not my dad's fault for being nocturnal, it's not even...wait for it...B-husband's fault for not wanting to get on my early-to-bed train. I think the issue is that with ALL the coolness that has faded away from my life in the last several years, starting with the mononeucleosis-debacle of 1996, this may just be the last vestige [no laughing, please] of me thinking I'm a cool kid, a rebel, a young person who can do whatever she wants whenever she wants because nobody is the boss of me and I can if I want to...really, I can. I'll show you all! Mooowahhaaahhhaaa!

Yeah, not so much, I'm not that cool. And truth be told, I never really was, or much of a rebel either. But with all of the control exerted within, without, on top of my daily life, and the lack of control I have over all of it (when I'm willing to admit that), this was my (idiotic) piece de resistance (too tired to insert accents). Did you catch that past tense? Now that I know what the root cause is, I can just STOP pretending...and go to bed. Goodnight. Darn. I'm already 20 minutes late.

Kindergarten sucks

I'm not ready. I said I was, but I'm not and I'm mad that I don't get a choice in the matter.

Not ready for what, you ask?

Not ready for Kindergarten, duh! I answer.

You smile, you may even laugh a little. I think it's [sort of] funny too, when I'm not busy trying not to cry.

Today is day three. B dropped him off - at the door - this was the last transition in the process.

He got a little upset and said that he wouldn't be able to find his classroom. B talked him through it and the principal introduced him to the "big" kids (1st & 2nd graders) who would escort him upstairs. He recovered quickly on his own and walked in with confidence. Just like any parent would want, right? Except B and I are both trying not to cry and he's probably already coloring pictures in his class.

On the second day, I was late to drop him off. We were ready an hour before school started and live a block away from the building. We had two "issues" just before we were to walk out the door - one requiring a full outfit change of a toddler - and, well, we were late by 4 minutes. All the other kids were seated in their seats already [though on the way out, I saw another much more relaxed seeming mother walking her son in too...]. It was a rushed goodbye b/c I was afraid of breaking the rules and getting in trouble [yes, seriously]. He blushed for one of the first times in his life, which made me feel even sadder and guiltier. I'm a blusher and it's usually not any fun when anyone else notices. Again, he said goodbye and went with his teacher to hang up his stuff. It took me the whole day to shake it off and I made sure I was one of the first in line to pick him up.

On the first day, we mostly got it right. Though they asked us to leave the room when I was in the middle of reading a story to him and I really didn't want to leave in the middle of the story. I mean, didn't I owe it to him to finish the story? He wouldn't know what happened in the end if I left now. I started to leave, then I started to read the next page, then I left because, well, I felt silly trying to rush through the story as other parents were leaving the room.

Everyone said it'd be harder on me than it would be on him. And I did believe that, I did. I knew he was ready. Not a doubt in my mind. And I thought I was ready too. He needs more stimulation, more learning about "school" things. He's ready to be in big kid school. And selfishly, his moving on is one signal in my path to feeling okay about working more and continuing to re-expand my professional self. I've even joked with people about L being ready for more than her "silly" 2 mornings per week of preschool b/c I selfishly want the time for work without having conflicting feelings about it...or paying for additional childcare.

Because he was ready, I thought I was ready. I changed my mind. I want him back. Right now. And, I do not care at this moment that he is so clearly ready, and that somehow I can take some credit for that. I don't want the credit, I want my H here running around, drawing pictures, playing and fighting with his sister. Kindergarten sucks.

I'm even more upset now because I know that if this is my reaction to Kindergarten, I'm in big trouble for the next 30+ years. This nonsense is exhausting.

H drew this pic this morning before school. Overheard: "I'm going to draw a picture for mommy because she's so cranky." A few minutes later he came in to see me in the shower: "I need to look at you. Is your hair brown or...oh, it's orange." Ah, if only it were developmentally appropriate for ME to be that self-centered....

P.S. I'm pretty sure that's my heart ripped out of the middle of my chest.

New Window

I'm in a bit of a state this week - not New York state, though that's true too, but one of my frenetic, anxious, can't focus, so much to do so little time, nothing's quite right, should I call the therapist kind of states. I can see all the things contributing, but I'm not even in the mood to try to relax myself or use one of my many calming techniques because, well, I'm in a bit of a state. Nothing dramatic, just grrrr.

As I sit here in my state, wanting to accomplish things for our home: we just purchased a new mattress and I'm panicked I don't like it and it was a million dollars and the exchange policy is frightening and I don't know which one I would want instead, and we need a bed, and nightstands, and paint, and...well, we don't need any of those things but I'm picking this very visual and tangible thing to be frustrated about because it's easier than being frustrated about intangible things...even though those aren't ridiculously dramatic either. Oh, bother. That wasn't a sentence at all. I also have lots I want to accomplish for my paying job, well, because I like it, and I think I'm doing well, but I need more time, more focus, more energy, more, more, more.

Where was I? As I sit here, I realize that my browser (yes, internet browser) habits are reflecting my life habits or vice versa. I used to be a one or two window at a time girl...maybe because that was all that was possible? I don't remember. I'm "reading" aka listening to the Steve Jobs biography...maybe it will remember for me. But now, and for as long as I can remember in recent (post-child bearing) history, I'm a 10-20 window or "tab" girl. It makes Brian twitch when he sees all the windows open (he also twitches as I calmly type with my battery anywhere from 89-7% with no plug in site). Back to the metaphor. I have all these windows open, and I leave them open because I'm not done with what I'm doing in that window - reading something, researching something, writing something, buying something, snooping around about something, finding something for work, paying bills, debating whether to sign the kid(s) up for a class or a camp or myself for a gym, obsessing over calendars and schedules and prices, looking up things we'll never buy and places we'll never go to avoid figuring out how to set up an account to transfer money. Sometimes the things get "accomplished," but more often than not lately it seems that they don't, and sometimes the window stays open for weeks until my computer gets mad at me and shuts them all down and I start over again (though my BFF, Firefox tends to restore them even then).

So many open windows, so little time, and even when I have the time, I don't use it just right or my brain fights against me to not accomplish the task at hand and then I think of something else more important - or more fun - to do. I don't have an inspired closing thought on this, which I suppose is appropriate for this post. But I think I'll hit "Publish" before I go open another window. Then I can count this as an accomplishment for the day. Maybe I should go open a real window...I think the AC is getting to me.

Miss Representation, Shaping Youth, and Me

My latest guest post is up over at Shaping Youth. This one is about Miss Representation, young children (mostly mine), and The Paley Center screening I attended, along with Shaping Youth's commentary on Miss Representation's latest efforts in conjunction with the Superbowl. Here's a preview of my piece:

Gender is the latest hot topic around here.

For almost a year, my preschool aged son has said on occasion, “boys are girls and girls are boys.”

He has told this to friends in class, often girls, who have gone home and told their mothers, thinking he has told them a funny joke.

He also thinks that “kids” means “boys” but not “girls.” He has asked me to explain this to him but I’m not sure he quite gets it yet. Only very recently have questions about different pieces and parts on girls and boys come in to play. He also recently asked me if he could “milk a baby” when he grows up. I’ve hesitated to say too much because the innocence of not knowing the difference between genders is one I’d like him to hold on to for a while. While I don’t want him to be ignorant, I also don’t want his rapidly firing synapses to process anything through a gender lens before it absolutely must.

Please head over to Shaping Youth to read more and let me know what you think. And check out Miss Representation for information on the great work they are doing.

The Invisible War

It's Martin Luther King, Jr. Day - a day on, not a day off. This year, like the few previous, I have planned to dedicate the day to service, particularly since I am no longer employed full-time by a national service organization. I did not make it happen today.

So, in the spirit of what Martin Luther King, Jr. taught us - about equality, service, and human rights - I would like to share this video that was brought to my attention by the folks at Miss Representation, a documentary film-turned-campaign "that seeks to empower women and girls to challenge limiting labels in order to realize their potential."

Jennifer Siebel Newsom, who wrote, directed, and produced Miss Representation (2011, find a way to see it if you haven't), is a producer on a new documentary called, The Invisible War, Official Selection at 2012 Sundance Film Festival. The film brings to light the prevalence of sexual assault in the military. 

I do not want to say too much before seeing the film or doing any research beyond the trailer, but that such large scale atrocities are taking place within the United States and its government agencies - particularly one created to protect us - devastates and angers me. I hope this film is the beginning of a louder, more effective and efficient movement to eradicate this particular disgusting injustice.

Jumpstart's Read for the Record 2011

My regular readers know that I have worked for Jumpstart, an early childhood education organization, not once, not twice, but three different times during my illustrious career. The organization's pull on me has been strong for several reasons, but the most important has always been the mission, to ensure EVERY child in America enters school prepared to succeed.

Tomorrow marks the SIXTH annual Jumpstart's Read for the Record, during which more than TWO MILLION adults and children will read Llama Llama Red Pajama together across the country to bring attention to the importance of HIGH QUALITY early education for ALL children.

Please pull out your copy to read with your child(ren), read it online HERE(English) or HERE(Spanish), and/or watch it being read by the author, Anna Dewdney, HERE.

Please register to be counted as part of the new world record and check out the national coverage of the event on NBC's Today Show tomorrow morning (Thursday, October 6, 2011)!

This year, I'm reading to Henry's preschool class in the morning and taking Henry and Lucy to Starbucks to read it again in the afternoon. [Starbucks is having Read for the Record events at 26 locations in NY. Check HERE to see if you can go to one near you!] We might even read it again at bedtime just for kicks (don't worry, we will only count each one of us once).

And, if you want to see the personal impact and importance of the work Jumpstart does every day to address the early education crisis, please read THIS PIECE by a Jumpstart volunteer on The Huffington Post.

Please vote for me

I just submitted 150 words to the Reader's Digest Your Life writing contest on Facebook. The 100 entries that receive the most votes will be judged by an "expert" panel with the chance to be published in Reader's Digest and to win $25,000.

My piece is entitled Angry Mother. Please check it out, and if you love it, vote for it. You can vote once per day through November 1. Please note, you have to LIKE Reader's Digest on Facebook before you can vote.

You can click on "Angry Mother" above or HERE to read my entry.

Thank you!

SpongeBob and other thoughts on media for young children

I wrote a post last week for Shaping Youth in response to the recent study on the immediate effects of fast paced television on young children. I was angry at the study, the media coverage of it, and the programming aimed at young children and their parents. Please read my post and leave a comment at Shaping Youth to let me know what you think. If you want to hear more of my opinions on young children and media, let me know that too!

Full of Awesome

My good friend, Amy, a mother and designer of 4March and Meenooma fame, just shared this awesome post from Pig Tail Pals, a blog I hadn't heard of before now that is all about redefining what it means to be girly. It always inspires me when I see people spreading the messages of power and strength for girls and women. Read the post, which is a poem, and think about how full of awesome you feel. I think I'm in the category of "getting it back."

And, in the same vein, I just saw The Help a couple of nights ago, and thought NOTHING was missing and that it was a beautiful adaptation of a beautiful story. And it brought this back for me, which I am highly considering starting to say every day with my own children:

You [are] kind

You [are] smart

You [are] important

 

Well, you are!

 

The kindness of strangers

Today was a good day. A rare day when I got up at 5am and had two and a half hours to shower and read and clean and make lists before the children got up at 7:30 (noon by our standards). Our wonderful babysitter came for four hours and played with the children, including one on one time with the older one while the younger one napped, while I got lots of work done promoting Brian's new book. The transitions flowed. We had a lovely trip to the post office to send books away. And then, as we were walking back toward home, actually toward the playground to play tennis, I engaged Henry in a conversation about making a choice, mostly because I couldn't decide and wanted him to make the choice for me (it had to do with him and an activity).

I noticed a woman walking alongside us and I was pretty sure she was listening to the conversation. She was about my mother's age I think. After Henry and I were done with our conversation (and he had made the choice, not the one I would have made on my own), the woman said, "I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but I just wanted to say what a lovely conversation that was. And what a wonderful example of parenting...you didn't interrupt him...respect...I wish you were MY mother...you're a F***ing rock star...here's that Mother of the Year Award you know you deserve...." Okay, so I'm paraphrasing, but she did gush and it was more than a few sentences. I laughed (uncomfortably) and said thank you several times, and yes, I might have teared up a bit, and I might be now.

Here's the thing: I don't know who that woman is. I don't know what, if any qualifications she has to say those glorious things to me (though I know she was right - dead on, actually). She doesn't know who I am. On a different day in a different moment, I am 100% sure that she could have just as easily seen a very different scene and heard a very different conversation between Henry and me. I remind myself of this not just with my own public parenting moments, but with those around me. I try hard not to (somewhat unsuccessfully) judge. I go out of my way to say when a parent gives me the slightest opening, "oh, we've been there," or "it's so hard sometimes," or something else to say, "no, no, I'm not judging you, I swear." I try hard (somewhat unsuccessfully) not to care if I think someone is silently judging me.

But the good stuff, LET IT FLOW. That woman made my day and it took a second. It was kind, it was generous. It was judgmental (of me, of experiences she might have been comparing me to). We need to do it more - to each other, to ourselves. All day long. And we need to hear it, be open to it. Thank you, stranger lady.

On second thought, you might not be in to that whole, "praise me and tell I'm awesome all day long and I'll be okay" thing like I am.

Today was a good day even without stranger lady. I didn't "need" her comment today, but I'm going to save it up for a day that I do.

PS - There was a second stranger lady a few minutes later who helped me locate Lucy's lost shoe on the sidewalk. She spotted us walking back covering our tracks with one shoe on the Luce Goose and pointed it out - it was one inch from falling off the sidewalk and into the bus path. Thank you, stranger lady #2.

PPS - yes, I am that ethnocentric that my though right now is, "only in New York." Don't burst my bubble by telling me that people are like that everywhere. They're not. At least to me ;)

PPSS - yes, I know that New York isn't an ethnicity. Is there a similar word that means the same thing for cities? I couldn't find it and I'm too tired to search anymore.