Overscheduling Our Kids

I signed Daughter (3) and Son (5) up for soccer this Spring. Many of Son's friends have already played a Spring/Fall season or two so we're late to the game. But I've also heard that some of these same four year olds were in tears or unwilling to play last year. So balancing my fear that I've held Son back too long is my instinct that I waited until the right time when he was ready to join an organized sport. (And my memory of our attempt at a week long summer soccer camp when he was two. He refused to play, I hustled around the field with infant Daughter in Baby Bjorn, and we stopped going by the third day.)


Now, I'm also fretting about what summer camps to put them in. This has become the discussion of the month as we mommies feel the impending open ended days looming a few months from now.


What will I do with them all day?

I don't want them to be bored!

I'll go crazy!


Last summer, I opted for the "let's have lazy days of beach combing, playing on the backyard, swing set, picnic dinners and play dates with friends" approach. Lulling me into this fantasy was a hazy memory of my own idle summer days in childhood. Wasn't this the way it's supposed to be?


Well, there were two faults to my delusion. One: Few of Son's friends were around for play dates (and mommy company for me) because they were all in camp. Two: I did go just about crazy by mid-summer from our long idle days together.


So, this summer I'm opting for a combo approach that will hopefully engage their little energetic bodies and creative souls yet leave time for free play.


At Daughter's three year check up yesterday, I asked Doctor how much camp to put her in. "I don't want to over schedule her at such a young age," I proclaimed.


"You know, people complain there's not much to do in our town," she replied. "And while I agree this can be a problem for teens (her daughter is fourteen), I tell them to start something themselves. Come up with something to do. But, many kids don't know how to do this because their parents have always scheduled activities for them."


Hmmmmm. Her comment reminded me of an article I read in an old Redbook Magazine at the nail salon. Titled "How to Let Kids be Kids" it discussed the pros and cons of over scheduling. The author, Judith Newman, was fighting the same fears we all consider: Don't our kids need more stimulation and challenge? "What, I wonder, will they be missing if they come home from first grade and do what I did as a little kid: nothing?" She asks.


The article goes on to quote several experts on the subject. "Children learn through playing, through active exploration that feeds their imagination, not by always having others organize the world for them." Said Susan Linn, a psychologist at the Judge Baker Children's Center at Harvard Medical School and the author of The Case For Make-Believe: Saving Play in a Commercialized World


That makes sense to me and has been my predominant philosophy with my kids so far. But am I being too old-fashioned? Am I kidding myself that my summer experience from the 1970s is the right one for my kids in 2009? Do idle summer days prepare them for a Facebook, Twittering, only-a-Google-search-away, who-knows-what-else-will-be-invented-by-the-time-they're-ten world?


The truth is, free play is a perfectly valid skill for a hyper-connected world. I can give my kids some organized activities that weren't available to me when I was a kid and make sure they also have free time for creative play. As Linn goes on to say later in the article, "Play is about discovering what the world is for yourself." Not what programmers, producers, teachers and coaches make it for you. "...To develop into a creative being in this noisy, fast-paced, electronics-filled world, children need 'time, space, and silence."


So, I'll take them to camp in the morning for a few weeks. We'll go to the beach some afternoons. Run through the sprinkler on others. And, I'll probably hire a mother's helper to help ensure my sanity and "encourage" their free play.

Mommy on the Verge

Husband's been out town for a week now and the kids and I are starting to fray at the edges.

Son wakes up and starts whining immediately, I whine back, and Daughter's constipated on her sixth day of potty training (serious whining). My morning routine's deteriorating within the first fifteen minutes vs the usual breakdown as we try to leave the house.

Son: It's over! (That would be the second Blues Clues they're on at 7 am)

Mommy: Okay, let's all go upstairs and get dressed.

Daughter discovers a relic ride-on car in the back of Son's extremely off limits pack rack closet.

Stop! It's my car!

No it's mine.

Scream, hit, scratch.

Mom: (screaming)

Stop it! The car is having a time out. Now go get dressed and brush your teeth. (Inaction) You can put a sticker on your chart...

Fifteen more minutes of bartering, begging, screaming, a few scratches and hits, serious tears and trauma.

I attempt to blow dry my hair (what am I thinking???).

I have to go potty! Put hairdryer down, take Daughter to princess potty.

Mommy! Help me with my clothes! Put hairdryer down. Help Son get dressed.

Put kids in front of another show to finish blow dry.

Scream to myself: I quit! That's it. This is too hard. I don't want to do it anymore.

Once again, no one is around to accept my resignation or cover for me.

Maybe I can get a full-time job again and work from 7 am to 7 pm like Husband. They'll still like me when I come home, won't they? Oh, but they both had a major breakdown yesterday when I picked them up at 5 after "long day" at school to do my part-time job. Nope, that's not it.

Maybe I can get more help. Like a live in au pair who will be here at the crack of dawn and late in the day to help put them to bed. I'd give up my home office for that. We can swap my desk for a bed in there.

Finish blowdrying hair and run downstairs to break up another brawl.

Coats on now! We have to go. We're already late for school!

Wait, let's go potty first.

Down to the mudroom, coats on, boots on, mittens, gloves. Snow pants in backpack. Extra shoes in backpack.

Buckle Daughter in car seat. Fasten seat belt for Son in booster.

I'll be right back!

Run inside. Run upstairs to pee myself. Run downstairs. Put on coat and boots. Get into car.

Son says, You look pretty, Mom.

Huh? Where did that come from? Who cares! I'll take it. And I'll stay.

Turning Five

Over the weekend, Husband and I set up this "big"week for Son: On Tuesday, Barack Obama becomes President and on Thursday, you turn five! He was very excited and somehow (being four) managed to combine the two, believing that when Barack Obama becomes President, he'll be five.

Well, we managed to separate the two events yesterday, what with the general hoopla and excitement over the inauguration (hard word to say when you're four). I made my little speech over dinner, setting up our viewing of the (Tivo'd) ceremony.

"You know how you have a teacher who leads your class? And makes decisions about what to do and keeps you safe? Well, that's like the President of our country. He's going to lead all the people in our country - over 300 million!! - from California to Colorado and Florida and Connecticut (I tried to name every state they'd visited.)

"And Israel!" Two-year old Daughter piped up.

"No, dear. Israel has it's own president." (Whole other matter there.)

They became very enamored with the idea of the oath taking - one hand in air, the other on the "book" as they called it.

"Bible," I asserted.

We fast forwarded through the entrances of important people, the kids and I snuggled up and alert on the sofa, waiting for the moment.

"When does he put his hand up?!" they asked repeatedly.

We finally found the brief, stumbling moment and had to pause the TV and take a hard look at blurred pixels to find the book.

After that, they were pretty much gone - back to the usual jabbing, poking and whatnot.

But this morning, Son declared that he was off to Africa on vacation, then to visit President Obama and go to the cafeteria. Then he he'd go to the lighthouse.

"The what?"

"The lighthouse!"

"Oh, you mean the White House, honey. They call it that because it's big and white and blah, blah, blah...."

Well, at least he'll keep busy as he turns five. Big times.

Investigating Things That Go Bump in the Daytime

The buzzing started shortly after breakfast. Ice storm, no school, too many pancakes. Kids played with play do, I circled the house, searching for the mysterious buzz. Not upstairs. Not downstairs.

Finally, I turned off the radio, "Shhhhhhhhhhh!"

Kids and I walked towards big television in living room. It seemed to be emanating from above, behind, below.

"Shhhhhhhh!"

I put my ear next to the flat screen, against the speakers, down in the cabinet. Turned the cable box off and on.

"Shhhhhhh!"

"Okay, down to the playroom," I herded the children downstairs so I could focus on finding the source of the noise.

Husband called just then. Yes, no school. Lights have flickered on and off but we still have power. And, there's a strange noise buzzing from near the stereo equipment.

"Could it be dangerous?" I ask.

"Well, you can move the speaker and see if that's it." Done. Nope.

"Try unplugging the Sonos system." Done. Nope.

He's so calm in his cozy office while I play neurotic housewife, keeping him on the phone to walk through this investigation with me.

"Okay, it seems to be coming from the floor. Could it be wires underneath? It's not dangerous, is it?"

"Probably not."

"Wait, it seems louder over here by the end table. I'm next to the couch."

(Picture me on hands and knees. Ears to everything.)

"It's getting really loud. WAIT A MINUTE!"

I bring my head up to view mini pink Barbie computer sitting on top of end table, emanating a loud, really loud, buzzing sound. Pop open the case, turn power to off and voila, sound is gone.

"It was Daughter's Barbie computer." Okay, bye.

I thank God that the $14.95 impulse purchase for two year old for Christmas didn't cost me a $200 visit from the electrician.

Then again, it wasn't too long ago a repairman found Son's colossal mistake.

In November we returned home from a week in SF over Thanksgiving to find our backyard and garage flooded. After learning from neighbors that it hadn't rained much, we thought the underground well-pump must have broken. A well engineer/fixer guy was called.

He circled the house and looked at me. "Your well is fine. Your garden hose has been on full blast." That would be for ten days. Ten days! A dim, fuzzy memory creeps into my brain. The warmish day before we left for SF, Son is outside, asking to turn on the hose.

"No, it's winter," I reply. "We don't use the hose at this time of year." Guess he did. Must have been while I raked those remaining leaves. And we never saw it since we went inside shortly afterwards and left for the airport in darkness the next morning.

Fortunately, there's a strange CT state clause that allows home insurance to pay claims on water damage for human accidents like these. "Yup," the adjuster said. "There was a kid upstate who turned on a fire hydrant and the water ran all the way down the street and into a driveway and flooded a home's basement. Ruined everything." Okay then.

"How old is your son?"

"Four."

"Oh, I see."

Strange household noises or floods? Check with the kids first.

Magically Disappearing Mystery Minutes

Why is getting out of the house on time in the morning with two preschoolers akin to herding one hundred cats through a small swinging door? Try as I might, I still can't find the best way to encourage (or threaten) Son and Daughter to get dressed and out the door on time. It doesn't matter how early we start to get ready, their silliness will find a way to delay our departure.

I call this magically disappearing time Mystery Minutes. And my rule of thumb is: Plan to leave 15 minutes prior to the actual time you need to leave.

In fact, plan 15 Mystery Minutes into all outings with children.

That's 15 Mystery Minutes before you need to leave the playground, play date, etc. to make it somewhere else on time (or just because you want to leave). That allows for three "five minute warnings." Which is where the Mystery Minutes come from: The fact that it takes at least three times longer than you think to herd children in your direction. Three times as long to convince them it's a good idea, to assert your authority that they must comply, to entice them with a tempting enough carrot, or threaten them with a strong enough warning.

And, because no matter how carefully I've planned the steps to get us out the door, Son or Daughter will spring a surprise tactic or tantrum that sets us off course.

(This morning I cajoled Son into using nasal spray with a promise of two kitty cookies (one for each nostril). Well, of course Daughter then wanted some, too. What seemed like a good way to get him moving, turned into an all out tantrum when she insisted on five cookies.

"Just two!"
"Five!"
"We don't eat cookies in the morning. Two or none."
"None."
None?"
"No, five!"

She was frustrated because she didn't understand the rules. 1. We don't usually get cookies in the morning so if we're going to have two, why not five? 2. I usually negotiate on matters of little consequence. When did kitty cookies become a big deal?

So, I tell myself, if I'm going to break the rules, I should live with the consequences. And, if I'm going to break them, why not just give in all the way. More times than not, I realize later that whatever stubborn "rule" I held onto, was not worth my child's tears.

And, next time, maybe I'll plan for the full 30 Mystery Minutes so I'm not a crazed lunatic scrambling for snow pants and a second glove.

From Crib to Bed and Back Again

I've just had my second decent night's sleep in three weeks. It was about a month ago that we moved two year old Daughter into a "big" bed for "big girls." The big bed happened on us through a good find (the frame) on Craig's List then a gifted mattress set from Aunt and Uncle when they downsized from a house in the burbs to a condo in the city. Mommy couldn't wait to set it up and move nighttime story time from uncomfortable rocking chair to sprawling queen size bed. Yes, the picture of my tiny two year old in the ridiculously big bed (she can use it until she moves out!) was odd, but the need for my comfort outweighed any reticence that this might not be such a good idea. (She wasn't climbing out of her crib or giving any indication that it was time for her to move.)

Daughter loved reading books on it so much that she started napping in it. Then, of course, she wanted to sleep in the big bed at night. Things went well for a few nights. Then FREEDOM kicked in. She was up and out of that bed faster than our feet could hit the top stair with hopes of legs up on the couch, remote in hand for the rest of the evening.

We were determined not to lie down with her until she slept or start any other patterns we had learned were so hard to break with her older Brother. So, we bounced back and forth along with her, cajoling, rocking, pleading, demanding that she STAY in her bed.

It got worse. She would finally go to sleep at 9 or 10 pm, then wake at 12, 1 or 2 am for a repeat performance of up and down. Downstairs to get a snack (feed her and she might sleep!), rock, sing, hum, pat, rub, whatever it takes when you're bleary eyed in the wee hours.

She's GOT to sleep in, we thought, after such a rough night. Not so. She'd be up at 6 am, strolling into our room with such pleasure that she was able to arise and wake the household of her own accord.

I was becoming a cranky hag and watched as my easygoing, well rested daughter became cranky and demanding with dark circles under her eyes. The doctor recommended a gate or lock on the door. I couldn't lock her in. Even the notion of her room being a "big crib" couldn't get me to stomach my daughter pounding and screaming at the door to her room.

So, at wits end two nights ago when Husband was working late and I simply had to get her to bed by nine (to watch the debate), I stood there rocking and singing to her then turned around and.... put her in her crib. No words, a quick good night, I love you, and I walked out the door.

She screamed for a minute then went to sleep. She woke in the middle of the night and we reverted to old methods for putting her back to sleep in her crib (walk in, rub back, say goodnight, then leave. Repeat as many times as necessary but don't get her up or give her anything.) She slept until 7 am.

Last night, she screamed longer (5 minutes) when going to sleep and I went in once to console her then she slept. She slept all night without waking until 7 am.

My gut tells me she wasn't ready for the freedom and still likes the "safety" and confines of her crib. She's also experiencing a spike in developmental ability (counting, numbers, etc.) and may need a balance of babyhood as she grows in ability and independence.

I think it's working to not mention crib or "big girl" or have her feel in any way that she can't hack it in the big bed or is being punished for getting out. In this case, actions not words seem to work. I'm also giving her major praise in the morning about how well she did all night and letting her put a sticker on big Brother's responsibility chart.

Eventually, she'll move into the big bed. And while she may then be a bit older with more ability to understand she needs to stay in it to sleep, we may also be a bit wiser about the need to put up a gate.

When Should You Lie to Your Kids?

This morning, our third day at the O.K. Corral, I figured out how to explain the explosive gunfire sounds bouncing off our front porch to terrified two-year old Daughter.

A little background: Our house is situated on open space of heavily wooded terrain. At the end of our street is a large reservoir and dam. At the base of the dam is a deep gorge in the woods. Our local police department has decided it's the perfect spot for their yearly weapons training. We get pistols in the Spring, rifles and rapid fire automatic weapons in the Fall. (Why our little town of 9,000 residents needs such protection is still a question for me. One of our biggest crimes of the last few years was an eccentric (and high) genius blowing up Porto potties at the base of trail heads.)

Anyway, I've taken my seasonal distress all the way up to the Chief of Police ("It wakes my daughter up from her nap!") so there's not much more for me to do than live with the disturbance and help my children cope with the awful sound. But how?

Four year old Son isn't phased by it. Daughter is alarmed and frightened. When we heard the first blasts Monday morning at eight a.m. I went down the route of rational explanation.

"Well, honey, the police practice using their guns to keep us safe. They are down in the gorge at the base of the dam. You know the dam where the pretty water falls?" This was the "It's all good" approach. Problem was, the idea of guns scared her more. I have no idea where she might have heard or learned of them, but they scared her.

She talked about "the guns" all day and didn't go to sleep until 10:30. I asked Husband, "What was I supposed to tell her?" His answer, "You don't know what it is."

I'm trying to be open and honest with my kids. But, the truth is there's probably a time when age dictates a certain fuzziness of facts.

So, yesterday morning as we all climbed into the minivan amidst the staccato burst of rifle fire and when she said, "Where are the guns?" I announced, "They're not guns, they're.... firepops!"

"Firepops?" She was intrigued. Conjured images of Popsicle, maybe lollipop, she couldn't put her finger on it but it didn't sound all that bad. "What are firepops?"

"The boom boom boom sound."

"Okay." Sold.

This morning in the minivan Daughter proclaimed: "Mommy, I love firepops."

Son: "Mommy, can I have one of those firepop Popsicles one day?"

"Sure, but they're kind of spicy."

Scheduling's the Way

Now that we're back to school, I can't believe I lived without a regular weekly schedule. Last May I looked forward to the lazy, unstructured days of summer. I'm kind of a summer gal, actually, and relish beach time as much as my kids. I'm actually like a kid at the beach, happy to sit in the sand and help dig holes or bury feet.

But by around mid-July, I found myself short-tempered and calling my niece to help out twice a week. I kept harping on myself for not being able to hack it all day with my own two kids. But I see now how much a scheduled day and some simple structure helps keep my family in harmony. (Well, Husband goes off to work whether the kids and I live in harmony or not.)

And, the start of school inspired me to get off my butt and organize our mornings better, pack lunches the night before, even plan projects for after school. Oh, did I mention that I even set the table for breakfast last night and put out little bowls for an applesauce starter? Neither child touched it. But they did seem impressed with the whole set table thing and waited patiently for their scrambled eggs. A far cry from their usual pounding of forks on table while screaming, "Where's my cereal?!"

Set Timetables
I also got smart and actually thought through how long it would take to get them ready and out of the house (hopefully, you've been doing this all along).

Here's my morning schedule:
6-7:30 am Play or watch TV (I put out play dough when I made my coffee)
7:30 Make breakfast
7:45 Serve breakfast
8:00 Get dressed, brush teeth and hair, put on shoes
8:30 Get in car (remember the 15 magically disappearing minutes it takes to get the kids settled in carseats. Especially, if Son is buckling himself!)
8:50 Drive away to make 9:00 am drop off at school.

Of course, today I had the wonderful "Let's not be late for our first day of school!" mantra to call upon. We'll see how it goes tomorrow.

What Does Mommy Do All Day?

I received the following piece in email from my sister-in-law (mother of three). I don't know who wrote it but it's so good I'm posting it here. Read it with glee...


What Do You Do All Day?

A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard. The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house and there was no sign of the dog.

Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded against one wall. In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared over the mirror and walls.

As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went. He looked at her bewildered and asked, 'What happened here today?'

She again smiled and answered, 'You know every day when you come home from work and you ask me what in the world I do all day?'

'Yes?' was his incredulous reply.

She answered, 'Well, today I didn't do it.'

Red Light, Green Light

"Mommy, you didn't stop!" screamed Son recently after a red light.

"Huh?" Yes, I did. He said this a few times . Well, screamed to be heard from third row of bright blue Minivan (hey, I thought it would be easy to find in a crowded parking lot except every third Mom drives this weird blue Odyssey).

"It was RED, you need to stop!" After a few outings with this claim, I realized he hadn't been educated on Right on Red.

"It's okay, honey. You're allowed to turn Right on Red.

"Oh," he murmured.

What hit me, was that he'd been watching. Closely tracking my every driving move - along with everything else.

The truth is, every single tiny, unconscious, I-just-can't-pay-attention-to-everything thing we do is an example. Good or bad. Smart or dumb. Nice or mean.

They learn it all from us. Soon it will be from their peers at school. But for now, it's mostly Mom... and Dad. Unlike the snarl Son gave me this morning at my request to PLEASE GO GET DRESSED - that closely matched my own a few moments earlier- I have a little bit of distance between what I do behind the wheel today and how he'll drive in twelve years. Thank God.

I Scream at Ice Cream

Last week we braved Stew Leonard's for groceries. If you don't live in CT, Stew's is the "largest dairy store in the world" and features singing farm animals, flipping monkeys, freshly packaged milk, the Chiquita banana lady, an insane progression with your cart down one winding aisle (turn against the tide at your peril), and, oh, a free ice cream cone if you spend $100 or more. We stopped in for fruit and checked out with an overloaded cart, one harried Mom and a final tallly of $167.

Since we'd already been to the beach prior to our Stew's adventure, Mommy was pushing for quick ice cream cones so we didn't totally screw with Daughter's early afternoon nap. Oh, did I mention we ate hamburgers and hot dogs at the hoedown farm tables right outside the store?

"Sprinkles! I want sprinkles!" they cried in front of the ice cream counter.

"Okay, okay." Just this time. Kids carrying soft serve on cones, Mom pushing grocery cart stuffed with my laughable assortment of green bags (two insulated bags from Trader Joes, one super large carryall from Bed Bath and Beyond, a standard green grocery bag from local Carluzzi's grocery store and my new envirosax, which fits in my purse!), and twelve year old Niece tagging along for the ride.

We sat on the bench outside the real farm animals to eat our cones, tired kids begging the patience of Mom to hold out on heading home.

"Stay here with Madeleine (Niece) while I load the groceries in the car."

As I stuff bags into the minivan trunk, I see a friend with twin four year olds zipping off, the two kids nicely sitting in their carseats licking away. Yes, her kids are older, but couldn't we just get going too? Mmmmm, that's risky, two year old Daughter can barely lick through a cone before it drenches clothes, hands, chin, neck and surroundings with sticky drippings.

What the heck! Throwing caution to the wind, I hustle Son (still licking), Daughter (holding, sometimes licking) and Niece (making real headway) into the car.

Now, the danger starts. Mom maneuvers multiple traffic lights while coaching Daughter and Son how to neatly finish ice cream cones in car. Losing battle. Coaching is generous, militant screaming more like it.

"Wait! Use your napkin! Don't bite the bottom! It's dripping! It's dripping!"Pull over. Grab wipes, clean Son. Grab Daughter's ice cream cone, top and bottom dripping mercilessly. Chuck it out the window.

Oh, no. The tragedy, the tears. What kind of mother am I to terrorize my daughter over an ice cream cone? I walk around the car, gently pick it up from the grass, wipe off any stray clippings and hand it back to her.

After all, soap and water can easily clean my car, little fingers and chins. But they can't wash away hurt feelings. Those sometimes take patience and practicality to prevent. What was I thinking???

Berry Picking with the Kids

The last two weeks I’ve enjoyed some simple summer fun with my kids (running in the sprinkler, blowing bubbles, puzzles on the front porch), culminating in a short hike to pick blueberries this morning. It’s super humid and hot here in Connecticut so we hit the trail before 9 am, beach buckets in hand to collect our berries. Husband and I discovered this old apple orchard in Trout Brook Preserve (directions below) the first year we were married and have trekked every summer since to pick the berries or marvel at humongous pumpkins that grown in a long, sprawling patch come Fall.

This is the first year that four year old Son was committed (by us) to hiking all on his own while two year old Daughter was allowed relief in the Kelty backpack carrier.

The secret to hiking with young kids, I’ve found, is to give them responsibility and leadership. I’ve been showing Son how to spot trail markers on the trails near our house and so we designated him Leader of our hike, responsible for showing us the way. It took his mind off whining, “Can you carry me?” when he kept spotting yellow, then magenta arrows pointing us down the trail.

“Look, Mommy, the arrow’s pointing that way!”

Once we hit the orchard, it was a fun run down to the blueberry bushes followed by eager picking and popping in mouths. The kids didn’t manage to get any blueberries past their mouths into their buckets, but Husband and I stocked up for home.

If you live in Fairfield County, it’s worth the trip to this corner of Trout Brook Preserve in Easton. I suggest some kind of child backpack or carrier if your little one can’t make a 20 minute hike there and back. While the trail is shaded and cool, the orchard gets very hot in the sun so hike early if it’s going to be a scorcher. There were plenty of blueberries still to ripen, so this trip should work from mid-July until August 1.

In August, we pick raspberries at Candee Farm in Easton. Call ahead to see if they are ripe but we have found on occasion that when advised that they "weren’t ripe yet and to come on over to pick peppers and cukes instead,"that many berries were in fine shape. You’ll pay a small fee to take the raspberries home.
Enjoy!

Here is a map to Trout Brook Preserve: Freeborn Road is located a short ways north of the intersection with Route 136. Park across from the gate marking the gravel road. Take the gravel road until you see the yellow arrow pointing to the right. Follow the yellow trail to the magenta trail. After entering the gate to the orchard, walk down the hill to the right for the blueberry bushes. Some of the near bushes may be picked already. We found the most ripe berries in the back and right side rows.

Mommy Peace - A Little Extra Help Keeps Mommy at Bay

After two weeks with Son out of preschool, I got smart and asked my 15 year old niece to help out babysitting a couple days this week. What a difference! Happy kids, happier Mom. Why didn't I get extra help sooner? The three intimidating factors for me were:

1. How would I find a decent babysitter I could trust and liked enough to have around my house?
2. Did I want to spend the extra money each week for some peace of mind and opportunity to get extra things done around the house or errands run without the hassle of accompanying preschoolers?
3. The big Mommy Guilt Factor: Shouldn't I want to be with my children every waking hour - won't it be fun to get up and go to the beach and have a fun summer day together? (Uh, not when we're all screaming at each other by 5 pm.)

Admittedly, it was easy to get over my fear of finding a trustworthy babysitter the kids (and I) would enjoy after Niece announced that she was available for babysitting this summer. While I was worried about the need to pick her up and take her home to the next town over, I got over this by actually doing it and timing it at 13 minutes each way. That's not such a big deal. And, her gracious mother offered to drop her off or pick her up one way each time. So, I take advantage of that during naptime or close to it (so Daughter doesn't nod off in car and screw up the whole nap schedule for the day.)

In addition, Son loves his cousin and views her babysitting more like a playdate. This happens with great babysitters and also younger ones that act like mother's helpers. That's how I viewed Niece. I didn't expect her to take over and simply enjoyed her addition to our group and our ability to go one on one when necessary (e.g. Daughter throwing tantrum while Son carries on about needing that train over there.) I now see the value of au pairs.

Second, since she's fifteen, I'm paying her $9/hour and not the standard $15/hour or higher for an older babysitter in my area. This eases my financial guilt that I shouldn't be paying just for my own peace of mind or to give myself a break.

Finally, after a harry weekend where Husband and I realized that Daughter is indeed in the throws of two year old tantrums over random miscellaneous needs and that while she and Son play so nicely together much of the time, their battles over said trains and most other toys they play with, has taken on new frequency and pitch; I just picked up the phone and called Niece to help - ALL DAY MONDAY.

No guilt, simply necessity. And since the day went well and at Friday, I can view this entire week as having been much easier on me (Niece is coming over again this afternoon), I'm finding my Mommy Guilt sweetly receding behind a certain Mommy Peace.

Crocs or Not?

I just had my first experience of relenting to my child’s need for coolness, peer pressure, please-please-please-can-I-have-them? versus my goal of practicality. We entered the shoe store with me intent on buying a pair of Teva’s or similar sandal for the beach and hot summer day playing and a pair of Keens or something similar for avoiding wood chips on the playground and hiking in the woods. Since Son’s toes were hanging over his sandals from the February Florida trip, we were starting from scratch.

But, upon entering the store, he spotted the Crocs display and exclaimed, “Crocs! Oooooh, Crocs! Pleeeeeeaaaase, Mom, can I get some???” Where, oh where did this come from? I was naively shocked at how clued in he was on summer kids fashion. We have never discussed this type of shoe, I’ve never mentioned the brand, and he can’t read. How did he know what they were? (Silly, clueless Me.) There I was, begging, pestering him for details on who exposed him to this fashion while he ran around the display, pulling off any size and color he could dislodge from the hooks.

Mom: “We’ll see honey. We’re going to try on lots of shoes, practical shoes, and we’ll see what works. "

Son: “I LOVE Crocs! Please, can I get some?”

Mom: “Where did you hear about them? Who told you about Crocs? I just don’t understand where this came from?”

Son: Completely ignoring my need for more information. “Please….. Mom….”

And where did he learn that sweet pleading reaps more rewards than whining? Oh, right, I give in more.

Mom to Store Manager: “How do they stay on? I don’t see how he can run in those. Let me try on a pair. Ooohhhh, they’re very comfortable. Oh, I see how they stay on. Okay, let him try a pair.”

We leave with Bob the Builder Crocs in navy blue, my son tripping over his feet.

Mom: “But they don’t even look comfortable. Are you sure they fit okay? You’re tripping!”

Son: “They’re fine.” Huge smile. Happy face. Doesn’t want them to get wet or dirty (Crocs?!) and puts them in secret, special place of honor in his room.

I gave in because I loved satisfying his longing. But what will I do when Daughter turns 10, 11, 12, etc. and wants 4” heels?

What would you do in a similar situation? Be practical and avoid tripping or let him have his way?
Post your comment.

PS
At the cash register:

Store Manager: "Do you want some Jibbitz?"

Mom: "Don't even go there."

Store Manager: "Chicken."

Finding Babysitters - From Craigs List to MySpace

Here's a scary story shared by D., a Mom in my playgroup. She's been looking for a babysitter since she recently moved to town. I have used Craigs List in the past with mixed results. Well, here's her experience:

Babysitter's Ad on Craig's List
The Perfect Family Addition! Nanny Available FT ASAP

D.'s email response
Hi
My name is D. and I have a two year old son.
Are you able to work in W. and are you still looking for a position?
Thanks

Babysitter:
Hi D.
I would absolutely work in W. How many hours would you need me to work? Please feel free to call me at xxx. xxx.xxxx.

Instead of responding right away, D. visits MySpace to see if Babysitter has a page. Uh, yes she does and it's kind of profane. The top line reads, "F. these B.'s..."

Needless to say, D. politely declined to employ Babysitter. Furthermore, Babysitter sent mean-spirited emails afterwards and put profane postings on her MySpace page toward D.!

So, while we all prefer to find babysitters and nannies from credible references, sometimes we need to look a little farther afield.

Advice:

1. Always, always call at least two references. (In fact, another friend recently stopped proceedings with a potential nanny who she loved after interviewing her, when the first reference "trashed" the nanny.) Always good to call.

2. If you're finding a stranger online, do your online due diligence. It's pretty common knowledge these days that what you put online, especially through social media such as MySpace, Facebook, etc. can be found by potential employers. MySpace is public so it's easy to search. Try Google, too. You never know what will show up.

3. Have a trial playdate with the new babysitter and your children. I found a college student on Craigs List who sounded fabulous on the phone and through her references. But when she showed up, she just sat there and my kids looked bewildered. Well, so did she actually. I sent her home immediately. No pay.

But I also found our most fabulous babysitter to date on Craigs List. We're still searching for her replacement as she now has a full time job after graduating college last year.

Hopefully, we all have more heartwarming stories than scary ones. We just have to do our homework.

Classic Tunes for Tots

In an article in the New York Times this week, a producer for Inside Edition said the campaign trail has become the “greatest reality show on television.” Amen. Until it got so negative and I decided I’d had enough. That’s when I turned to American Idol for some lighter fare. And while my toddlers can correctly name a front page picture, “That’s Barack Obama!” (is it a form of brainwashing if Son puts a bumper sticker on his toy car?) they like it even better when I break into Beatles’ songs over breakfast.

It was a bright Spring morning several weeks ago when I launched into “Here Comes the Sun” after Brooke White sung it on American Idol the night before. (Her bright yellow dress was fun but there’s a reason she’s been voted off.) Despite her average performance, the song stuck in my head and reminded me how great Beatles songs are for kids. In the next few weeks on the show, Mariah Carey didn’t offer much inspiration for the little ones (though David Cook rocked!) but Neil Diamond opened up a whole new world of cheesy classics. Who can’t belt out “Sweet Caroline” to her four year old?

Well, a couple of “Cracklin’ Rosies” later and I was traveling all the way downhill to “I Think I Love You” by The Partridge Family. While Husband was a bit aghast at my fierce attempt at Keith Partridge (with a little bit of sister Laurie on keyboards thrown in), Daughter and Son were enthralled. It’s fun to watch Mommy get down to a song. Why, I wondered, should our children only learn Bruce Springsteen songs from Dad?

So, to parallel the rockin’ playlist Dad created for the kids, I’ve made my own mix of Mommy tunes. We can’t put the Beatles on our playlists since they aren’t on iTunes or Rhapsody (our subscription service). But the songs are catchy and fun to sing along to, with harmless lyrics. Come on Moms, rock on!



Mommy's Classic Tunes for Tots

on iTunes

on Rhapsody



Dad's Classic Tunes for Tots

on iTunes

on Rhapsody

Drive Up and Dial

Recently a group of friends and I were lamenting the hassle of running errands with young kids. It’s a royal pain to unstrap them from the car seat, hoist them up and haul them in for a short stop at say, the dry cleaners or drug store. Witness my recent Nightmare in CVS episode to pick up Amoxicillin for two year old Daughter with ear infection:

“I’m sorry Ma’am, we don’t have it.”

“But I heard the nurse call it in!”

“Oh, here it is, but has your insurance changed?”

“Not since I picked up her fluoride vitamins last week!”

All the while Daughter is screaming in pain and lunging out of the cart or my arms. Put her down and she grabs candy from the toddler-height racks and cleverly rips it open. (Smart chick.) I vow never to return. Where is the new drive-through pharmacy in town?

Of course, the other secret solution is to leave your children unattended in the car for just a quick run into the store. Both illegal and dangerous, this option is only used in the most dire circumstances when your eyes can be on the kids from inside the store. And, anyone who’s ever tried this knows what a nervous wreck you are the entire time. First, in case Daughter or Son might be screaming even though you put favorite Barney CD on and opened books on their laps. But actually the greater fear is getting busted by a passerby who calls the cops. Even worse: a write up in the local paper’s Police Log that details said Irresponsible Mother who left children in car in the Store parking lot and claimed she was just “running in to get a few things.” Tssk Tssk.

The 2008 solution? Drive up service. Yep, my friend D. presented this ingenious solution at our girls’ night out. It’s perfect for dry cleaners and even her example, the liquor store! She pulls up front and dials the store:

“Hello, this is D. and I’m out front in the car with my kids. Would you mind bringing me two bottles of chilled Kendall Jackson?” That’s it. Easy as pie. She hands them her credit card or sets up a store charge. Works like a charm.

So, the other day, faced with sleeping Son and soon to be sleeping Daughter, I pulled up to a local vacuum repair shop. How am I going to do this? What if Daughter screams and wakes up Son? And then I remembered D.’s trick and decided to give it a try. I dialed the shop:

“Hi, this Heather Levy. I dropped off my vacuum the other day. Is it ready? Oh, great. Listen, I’m out front in my car with two sleeping kids in the back. Would you mind bringing it out?” He said sure.

And that was it. I handed him cash, he went in and made change and brought that out.

Now, I’m a convert. I realize my new trick’s only appropriate with certain merchants in certain settings, but imagine if stores starting marketing this service as a value added option? They’d corner the Mom market and keep our kids – and reputations – safe.

Taming Coughs with Honey

Uggggh, I've been holed up at home with my two toddlers for two and a half weeks while they've battled four (4!) illnesses. What a rough February! First, my son came down with croup. I though he needed to have a cold first but our pediatrician said the standard course is croup, cold, then possibly ear infection (yep, he got them all). When his cough wouldn't subside after a week, she recommended children's nighttime Triaminic. I balked. Weren't children's cough medicines banned recently by the FDA, I inquired? He's old enough, she said. (The FDA banned them in Oct for children under two years. They are continuing studies for children ages 2 to 11 years.)

Contrary to my pediatrician's prescription, I remembered warnings for children under six so I cautiously read the ingredients in all the childrens' cough medicines at the pharmacy. Many had an anthistamine plus dextromethorphan or Pseudoephedrine (commonly found in Sudafed). I'm okay with the antihistamine. When the warnings first came out, a doctor told me it's the safest choice since it's natural. Plus, it's recommended for bronchitis and is the only medicine that's ever helped a bad cough of mine. I couldn't justify the other ingredients. Sudafed makes me and most adults I know pretty crazed, how can I give it to a child? Plus, most reports have confirmed that standard cough medicines containing dextromethorphan simply don't work. I left the pharmacy emptyhanded.

Instead, I tried honey. A colleage of my husband's recommended a mixture of honey, oil (to smoothe it for stirring) and lemon juice. I tried honey and a little warm mater to mix it in the bottom of a sippy cup. Then I filled it with OJ. Both kids drank it down (by this time, S. was sick, too) and it seemed to work. I can't be sure but a recent study reported in the New York Times indicated that a touch of honey makes a better cure than cough medicine. (Note: Do not give honey to infants under one year because of the slight risk of Botulism.)

Lucky me, their bout with croup, then double ear infections were followed by vomiting then diarrhea (from the antibiotic for the ear infection). I don't have a solution yet for ailments of the gut other than lots of towels, laundry detergent, and patient motherly love. Here's to a healthier March!

Disclaimer: Please check with your own pediatrician before giving your children any over the counter medications including antihistamines!

Mommy Time Management

It’s January and time to start planning for 2008. And before resolutions can be made or kept it helps to have a solid time management system to organize your time. Mothers, especially, are faced with organizing:

• Kids’ schedules, meals, shopping, birthdays, activities and school
• Our own appointments, calls/emails to make, to do’s, shopping and errands
• Household to do’s, repairs, chores, décor
• Family finances, activities, entertainment and meals
• Business schedule and tasks, if working another job
  
  My “desktop” used to be Microsoft Outlook and a notepad of to do’s. My life oriented around these two items, which organized my hourly, daily and weekly life quite well. I was grounded by this system, whether I viewed it on my handheld or at a desk. I always knew where to go to learn where I needed to go or what to do. Then, suddenly I’m on maternity leave. I can’t even begin to wrap my hands or head around the new items I should probably be organizing. And my old system doesn’t apply. Even back at work three months later, I can’t seem to combine household and baby-oriented tasks with work ones. My system fails. Eventually, I leave the job and return home to be with baby, rudderless. I need a new system. A mommy system.
  
  Well, four years and another baby later, I think I’ve got it. Through trial and error I’ve developed my time management, sampling a few mommy organizers as I went. I still use Microsoft Outlook for my business organization and keep my laptop and this system locked away in my home office for when I work. (In my experience, trying to touch one key on a computer in the presence of two toddlers is asking for little hammering fingers and begging exuberance to damage any hopes of using this system in the home.)
  
  So, paper it is and here are the two organizers I’ll praise:
  
  Last year, I used Mom Agenda and raved about it to all my friends. This attractive vinyl calendar provides a weekly view with rows for multiple kids. If your kids are school age and up, this is especially helpful to keep track of all family members’ schedules in one place. (Since my children are younger, I tried to use each row for separate areas of my life but eventually they just became general to do’s.) What I also loved were handy colored pages in the back for listing favorite books, wines, movies and restaurants; recording gifts, organizing parties and vacations. It was great to have one place to record all these areas of my life. And what’s really neat, is the address book in the rear that is self-bound and can be removed for easy access in following years. The address book featured separate pages for recording family medical information and listing babysitters and household service provides. All in all, for $40 I felt pretty well organized throughout the year.
  
  My one gripe, is that there wasn’t enough space for general to do’s: emails, phone calls, tasks, errands, and other items I need to do but not necessarily on a specific day. For example, when I listed them under Monday, I didn’t revisit that list later in the week and missed specific tasks left undone.
  
  Which led me to revisit my calendar system for the start of 2008. Knowing I’d need a new Mom Agenda by January, I began looking this Fall. I seriously inventoried my organizing needs and sought a diary with more space for weekly to do’s. But, I thought, if I can’t find one that competes with the Mom Agenda overall, I may not change. I spent considerable time in the organizer aisle at Staples, flipping through weekly agendas including their new homegrown organizer for Moms. At $26 or so, it’s cheaper than others but had too little space for (in my sloppy handwriting) a To Do list.
  
  And that’s where a Google search sent me to Truly Mom. Very attractive and on the expensive side (they start at $90) these organizers take a different approach than the Mom Agenda’s standard day organizer format. They are catchy looking foldout portfolios that organize:
• A monthly calendar
• A daily, well-organized To Do page
• Three notepads for shopping list, misc notes and other lists
• An Address book
  
  Each insert is replaceable so while the initial price is steep, you don’t have to purchase an entire diary each year. Just the calendar insert.
  
  This was it! Here’s why:
  The My Day notepad is organized into Things to Do, Calls/Emails to make, Gifts to purchase, Don’t Forget, What’s for dinner, Kids’ activities and Just for Me. I don’t use one per day but start a new one when most items have been completed. And it turns out, I am very productive when I can separate my types of tasks to accomplish. After all, sometimes I don’t feel like reaching out and making calls so it’s nice to simply look down my list of To Do’s and organize my time or accomplish them immediately. I was worried that the monthly calendar wouldn’t provide enough space for me to jot down appointments, but my life is filled more with tasks than engagements so this has worked well so far. Plus I have a nice monthly window onto our family schedule. Finally, I love having three shopping lists or note areas all in the same location. I’m constantly thinking of grocery items we need and previously scoured the kitchen for my list even though my organizer was right at hand. Now, it’s easy to jot down items and create separate lists for grocery, pharmacy or superstore strips. Need to give my number or email to someone? A post it note is right there. Need to leave a note for hubby? Same thing. So, six weeks into my sharp pink “desktop” with the green stripe, I’m feeling the most organized yet.
  
  Oh, by the way, both these organizers start mid-year in September so once I found Truly Mom, I started my new system in December.
  
  Only you can determine how best to organize your family life and mommy schedule. Hopefully one of these organizers will help you do it or at least give you some ideas for how to get things done.

The Power of No

I’ve been working recently on my ability to say “No” to my three year old son. Oh sure, I can say No quite easily and say it many times. It’s the random question from him, that I quickly reply No to, and then regret with the onslaught of his crying and carrying on. He sure knows how to plead his case. And I’ve found myself to be more of a sucker than I thought I'd be. After incessant whining for several minutes, what’s the harm in a bowl of Cheerios right before dinner, an extra television show, or dirty hands before eating? Well, over time, quite a lot is wrong if I give in to his demands. After all, he’s interested in his immediate gratification. It’s my job to see the bigger picture, set the rules, teach him the basic structure of how to live well in society. I know what’s best.

In reality, I needed a little training before I could help train him. So, I consulted my library of parenting books (is yours getting as big as mine?) and was fortified and comforted by one in particular: The Blessing of a Skinned Knee (see my booklist to the right). This book takes a different spin on the standard parenting issues. Its author, Wendy Mogel, Ph.D, uses Jewish teachings to emphasize the values needed to raise our children. It’s a bit more applicable for older children than mine, say six years and up, but on my first reading a year ago I found its principles to be a solid framework for parenting and one that closely matches how my husband and I hope to raise our kids. She pulls from the Torah (the first five books of the Bible) to create nine “blessings” that guide parents in raising responsible, caring children.

So, I thought of Wendy’s book when looking for the power to say and reinforce my No’s. In Chapter Three, she discusses the need for children to honor their mother and father and asks some pretty pointed questions about how well your children might be honoring you. As I squirmed in my seat, she noted that many parents have trouble in this area. They have “bred disrespectful children in large part because they don’t demand respect from them.” Her reason? “Deep down parents don’t believe they deserve it or that they can master the struggle.” This phrase alone got me thinking. I realized the truth is that I’m not sure I can “master the struggle.” I don’t want my son to suffer and when he cries and whines and becomes close to desolate when he can’t have what he wants, I relent out of sympathy. But that’s not what is best for him. And it certainly isn’t setting the stage well for when his demands will become bigger and have more impact on his well-being (or our finances!)

Wendy goes on to set out helpful guidelines to establish authority but I decided right then and there that I would have the courage to “master the struggle.” And here’s what happened: My son cried and whined less. Yep. When No means No, they eventually move on. Sure, I think he senses when I may waver and plays upon past experience of my waffling tendencies. But a calm, firm No with a couple of choices sets a tidy parameter for both of us.

We’ve all heard that children like rules and limitations. It grounds them and provides security. Limitless options or the knowledge that they set the rules is actually very frightening for them. And this is why I think the Power of No is so positive. The results have certainly been. After all, if I hold firm, C. is the one who relents. He eventually comes around because no other options are presented to him. “No, you may not play with the vacuum (after finding him with the plug in a socket). This is for adults and those are the rules.” Or, “No, you may not have juice right before dinner. You may have some milk and a cracker or wait until we eat.” In this type of circumstance and when he says No himself with enough “power” for both of us, I find it most effective to present two choices: “You can brush your teeth now and we’ll read three stories or you can go to bed without stories tonight.” He gets a choice (this is a power struggle after all) and chooses the one in his best interest.

One of the biggest benefits of this approach is that when I feel confident that I can say No calmly and firmly and STICK TO IT, we don’t get to the point where I lose my temper. C. isn’t the one pushing me to my limits. I’m in control of the situation and guiding him to the right choice. Of course, it’s more difficult to stick to No when it’s over a trivial request that I realize is actually okay and find myself wanting to give in. In this case, I’ve realized it’s necessary to invoke my mother’s tried and true responses: “We’ll see” or “Maybe.” I never understood the reasoning behind these phrases until now. But I now see that a little careful consideration gives me time to determine whether a firm No is necessary so I can confidently hold my ground.