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Full Moons and Safety Glass
Full Moons and Safety Glass
Balancing money, time, self, and family
Member Since: April 14, 2008 Last Signed In: November 15, 2009 Blog Views: 3929 Send To A Friend Sign Guestbook Add as a Friend
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Over Memorial Day weekend the family and I all packed up and headed to Denver for a long weekend with my sister, her husband, 3-year-old son and 5-month-old twin girls.
No, let me rephrase that. I packed everyone up. I did all the laundry ahead of time, planned outfits for the unpredictable Denver weather, considered the “right” toys and distraction for the plane ride, printed out boarding passes in advance, and organized everyone at 5:00 am the morning of our flight. Ah…I digress. In any case, this was my family’s first trip back to see my sister’s not-so-new twin daughters. Until the end of March, the girls' little systems were too sensitive to be exposed to the walking Petri dishes of flu and colds--otherwise known as my kids.. Everyone was very excited for the trip and looking forward to seeing the new additions as well as Paul’s brother and his family who live outside of Denver. There was only one problem…the plane. Now, let me clarify something. I grew up overseas and have been flying my entire life. Hopping on and off planes, gathering baggage, and dealing with cranky ticket agents is so much a part of the landscape of my life, I never even think about it. Well, I never thought about it much at all until I had kids. Now, let me clarify something else. Having an infant on a plane is really no big deal. Infants nurse. They sleep. They are tiny. Infants do not want to run up and down aisles. Infants do not fight with their siblings. Except for the possibility of their ears popping and strangers poking at them, infants could care less about being on a plane. Not true with toddlers. Especially toddlers like Carmen, who, at 22 months is still technically young enough to be a lap infant, but from a practical point of view would rather be duct taped to a skateboard than sit on someone’s lap for a 2-hour flight. Carmen is our non-cuddly kid. She is also in the phase where she wants to only do what she wants to do when she wants to do. As Paul says, she is "totally unreasonable". Now, let me clarify something else. My kids have both been flying since they were six weeks old. Paul and I have no family in California, so to see anyone in a shared gene pool, we need to fly. Wherever we go, the girls go with us. All this to say that after flying with my kids for nearly four years now, I feel somewhat comfortable in offering some practical advice to parents who might be worried or anxious about an upcoming summer flight. I should note that these suggestions are really geared towards children aged six and younger, but I’m sure that they could be adapted for older kids. Tip #1—Totally lower your expectations. Go into the travel with the mentality that the entire experience will suck, that the kids will act up, and you will feel judged by complete strangers. That way if things go better than expected, you are emotionally ahead of the game. Tip #2—Bring candy to offer as a bribe. Make sure that the candy is the type that you can parcel out in small increments (i.e. M&Ms, Skittles, Hershey’s kisses). That way you can reward a little at a time. Think Hansel and Gretel (with or without the witch in the cottage, your call). Tip #3—Bring two of every toy regardless of the age and gender differences of your children. Trust me. Kids that have no common interests will use the plane ride to fight over toys that in other environments they would normally give a crap about. Tip #4—A portable DVD player will, in fact, become your best friend. Bring an “old favorite” as well as something they have never seen before to make sure you hold their interest. VERY IMPORTANT: Make sure that sucker has been charged up prior to your trip. This tip can totally backfire on you if the movie suddenly stops right before Marlin tries to escape out of the whale with Dory. Tip #5—Bring plenty of snacks. Even if the kids had a five-course meal just prior to getting on the plane they will immediately complain of unbearable hunger. They will complain of unbearable hunger while repeatedly kicking the seat in front of them. Tip #6—When the beverage cart comes down the aisle, don’t ask your kids what they want to drink. Just quickly order them water. Otherwise, they will think they have choices and will scream for chocolate milk for the entire duration of the flight. Tip #7—You, however, should not drink anything at least 24 hours before the flight or while you are on the flight. Your ability to use the restroom will be completely curtailed because a) you won’t be able to get up from your seat with a lap infant and b) even if you can get up, your kid will insist on attending with you and those bathrooms are now so small, it will be totally impossible for you to function in such a confined space. Tip #8—While walking through the airport, don’t let your kids carry anything themselves. Allowing them to carry things (i.e. blankets, bags, stuffed animals, etc.) really just means that you will end up carrying whatever they were supposed to carry. In all likelihood, you will also end up carrying at least one child, the things they were supposed to carry, and all of the stuff that you need to carry personally (i.e. purse, backpack, stroller). Tip #9—Teach them to count the swimming pools they can see from the plane. This is a very effective way to keep them occupied during take off and landings and may buy you at least 5 minutes of piece at both the beginning and end of a flight. And, most importantly… Tip #10—Plan the flight either during naptime or very early in the morning/very late at night. The kids won’t be able to sleep because they will be too cranked up from the excitement, but at least this way their temper tantrums, outbursts, and inappropriate behavior will provide more opportunity for the “count the dirty looks” game that you can play with your husband. Happy travels.
Last weekend my mother-in-law was out visiting from the Midwest. Unaccustomed to the 100 degree plus weather, we decided at the last minute on Thursday night to find a cheap place to stay and head to Bodega Bay to beat the Sacramento heat.
At first, I thought it was going to be a disaster. No, I knew it was going to be a disaster. I especially knew it as I sat tightly wedged in between both car seats for the 3-hour trip from Sac. I was unwittingly stuck watching both Madagascar and The Tigger Movie for the 3000th time while Paul and his mom had actual adult conversation the entire way. I, on the other hand, was bestowed with the pleasure of retrieving Crocs constantly being kicked off, organizing snacks and beverage service, refereeing the on-going arguments about who got to read Fancy Nancy, and negotiating an end to the screeching contest that the girls found hysterically funny. Did I mention I was sitting in between them? Once we got there, Ava was off-the-charts thrilled. She loves everything about the beach…the sand, the 55 degree water, shells, kites, the other kids. In short, the beach is perfect for being four years old. Not so much for Carmen at (almost) two. She did not embrace the cold water the same way and spent a lot of time complaining about her sandy binky (“it’s yucky, Mommy”). She did like digging in the sand and, after a while, even warmed up to Sam, the two-year old little boy whose big sister was busy splashing in the water with her big sister. As for me…well, I just took it all in. I soaked up the surprisingly warm Sonoma Coast sun (in the 80s) and I totally enjoyed my kids, husband, and mother-in-law who were totally enjoying themselves. There was no griping, no fussing, everyone was just having a great time. We actually had one of those days that parents of slightly older children have been telling me would come—“Just hold on, once they get older you can really start doing things together”. When the fog rolled in I started to panic. Heading back to the condo meant the perpetual Scooby Doo loop would start again. It meant that Polly Pockets and crayons would be scattered all over the floor just waiting to jump out and attack the feet of the adults. And worst of all, the confined space would certainly encourage bickering or even the commencement of another screeching contest. They would surely forget all about the fresh air and good clean outdoor fun. We survived the evening, and the next morning, headed to The Tides for breakfast. The bay was totally fogged in and the beached “pirate ship” was barely visible. No beach day for us. Oh no. Out in the water a half dozen seals popped up from the water, begging for scraps from the fishing boats that had just headed back in from their morning fish run. The girls went wild (having never seen seals in the ocean before). Then we went for a drive out to Bodega Head where we saw more wildlife (mostly birds) and coastal spring flowers all along the road. And then it happened. Ava looked at me and said “Mommy, it is much better to go hiking and see nature than watch movies and TV”. I almost cried. In that moment the stress, exhaustion, and frustration of retrieving Crocs, organizing snacks and beverage service, refereeing the on-going arguments, and negotiating an end to the screeching contests gave way and I got to see that labor of love pay off. Surprise…this mom thing…it’s working.
First, I have to confess that I didn’t come up with this topic. My friend, Jane, did. Check out the May 20th post at www.meditationsforwomen.com, a website that she developed and runs.
The gist is this…as women we all have wisdom and insight to give away. This can happen formally or informally, planned or unplanned, intentional or not. This is something that I have always believed myself, but it was nice to see the reminder this week on at meditationsforwomen. As moms, wives, sisters, bosses, etc., we get easily caught up in the daily grind that it is sometimes hard enough to accept a gift of wisdom, much less focus on giving it away. My friend Jane is the perfect example of someone whose wisdom and insight I respect and rely upon. She really does live her life with a sense of balance that I revere…no… actually envy. After she turned forty, she had her second child—her first was 12 at the time--she and her husband reprioritized and sold their house, and moved back up to Tahoe to have the kind of life and lifestyle that they really wanted to have. It isn’t always easy, but somehow they always make it work. I don’t see as much of Jane as I used to, but daily I check in with her via the website. The thing I most appreciate about her, though, is her true genuineness. No pretenses whatsoever. So as I thought about Jane and her post, thought about wisdom I might give away to my daughters I thought of a few that might work for them now at 4 and (almost) 2, but could also work for them later as they grow from girls to young women:
So, this week, I am really going to think about the wisdom I might pass along to the girls and women I encounter every day. I am also going to focus on being open to the wisdom and inspirations of the women around me—friends, family, strangers, and children. You just never know when you might need a little wisdom of your own. (Thanks Antoinette) “I serve as a role model inspiring and encouraging other women.” http://www.meditationsforwo...
Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of my former self. Yes, my former self…the interesting, witty, creative, sexy, self-confident self that I used to be BK (before kids). Oh, I know what you are going to say…but Amanda, your children opened up a whole other dimension to who you are, you have experienced things you never would have experienced otherwise…you should bask in the light of your children’s love.
Sigh. I know. I said…I know. But here’s the thing… the interesting, witty, creative, sexy, self-confident self that I used to be BK has been replaced by an exhausted mother of two kids under four. Even if I had the energy to be the interesting, witty, creative, sexy, self-confident self that I used to be BK, I don’t always have the outlet. And the outlet, it turns out, is important. You can feel interesting, witty, creative, sexy, self-confident but if there is no way to express it…so what? It’s the whole tree-falling-the-forest thing. Now, don’t get me wrong…my husband and I can get each other laughing these days, but it’s usually the kind of laughing that accompanies Nurse Wratchet and men in white coats. Obviously, I can get my kids engaged and laughing, but hysterics instigated by simply saying the word “fart” isn’t what I have in mind. Sarcasm and cleverness are completely lost on them. But guess what? I was in a room full of dentists last week talking about the importance of linking California’s dental schools with community clinics and I had them in stitches. My timing was great, my visuals were on point, they actually…clapped. It almost felt like I was back on stage with my improv group from (gulp) six years ago. I know it probably sounds self-important and blow-hardly, but it’s true. Who knew I would be able to tap into that part of myself with the job that I have now? All of that extemporaneous, reactive energy that used to keep me on my toes, the challenge of having to be up on current news topics and popular social references—all of it came back to me in a 30 minute PowerPoint presentation. It felt good. I have actually been riding the high since the presentation last Friday and didn’t realize it until tonight. I was telling my husband about one of the emails I got today that specifically mentioned how much they liked the presentation and like working with me. I had the classic Sally Field “you like me, you really like me” cheese ball moment. I always felt more interesting and self-confident on stage—and guess what? I just pulled it off in real life in a room full of dentists. I must be more interesting, witty, creative, sexy, self-confident than I thought. What a relief.
Carmel-by-the-Sea is unlike anywhere else in California. Nestled in between Big Sur and Monterey, this jewel of the coast luxury is the perfect locale to be shared by loving couples walking up and down the water’s edge, savoring a variety of crab-filled delicacies, or taking the evening chill off with a large glass of a local pinot noir. Loving couples, or in my case…all by myself.
This week I had a meeting for one of my projects with a group of about 75 dentists and dental school administrators at the La Playa Hotel in Carmel. I asked Paul several months ago if he wanted to come with me, but low vacation time accruals kept him back in Sacramento watching over the girls. As I edged closer and closer to the water I started to feel really, really sorry for him. But I was really, really happy for me. Although the coast was covered in a pre-mature June Gloom, the vistas and surroundings couldn’t be beat. I had decided to make the most of this time. The meeting, after all, wasn’t going to be over until 3 on the Friday before Mother’s Day, so I leveraged the opportunity to start my Mother’s Day celebration a little early. I drove down on Wednesday to give me a whole morning to myself before the Thursday at 1PM start time of for the meeting. I slept in until seven (yes, sadly, this is sleeping in for me), went for an hour-long walk on the beach, had a great breakfast overlooking the water, and then meandered around the downtown shops. I bought nothing for the kids, I bought nothing for Paul. I did, however, buy myself some jewelry (nothing too fancy). More than anything, I just focused on slowing…the…pace…down. My typical life always feels so rushed, so scheduled, so…so…so…focused on everyone and everything else. Honestly, the 12 hours to myself felt decadent. I didn’t even check my work email—which I’m sure I’ll pay for at 8 am on Monday. I loved the lazy sense of luxury walking on the beach. I loved all art galleries, the cottage gardens with climbing vines. I loved the fact that everyone names their houses—“The Moose Club”, “Ocean’s End”, etc. Somehow naming our house “Nondescript Mid-century Ranch House that Needs a Kitchen Remodel” just doesn’t seem the same. I loved the…Labradors. They were everywhere. Running on the beach, straight into the 50-degree waves after a tennis ball or a stick. Laying next the feet of their owner outside of a coffee shop full of rich women and rich coffee. I tried to embrace their spirit while I was there--although I skipped the 50-degree water.
Throw the People magazine away. Delete your bookmark for Pink is the New Blog. Enough is enough. I have had just about enough of celebu-moms. Katie Holmes, Jennifer Lopez, Posh Spice, Nicole Ritchie, Reese Witherspoon, and Gwyneth Paltrow. I have had just about enough of all of them. I can’t stand them with their yoga mats, their funky and oh-so-cool toddlers clad in Ramones t-shirts, their million dollar paydays for their newborn’s first photo shoot, their nannies hiding out of camera shot when the paparazzi “catch” them in the park. I have also lost all tolerance for the pregnant, bump-happy others: Angelina, Ashley Simpson, Nicole Kidman, and Jessica Alba. All of them…with their complete lack of understanding of birth control and their Peg Perego-sponsored baby showers providing free baby swag they can certainly afford on their own.
Yes, I know it sounds bitter. Guess what. Don’t care. Nope. Not. At. All. Today, while waiting for the glass guy to check out a problem with my newly replaced car window glass, I suffered through an entire Vogue article about how Gwyneth Paltrow juggles busy motherhood, perfect wifery, and a red-carpet acting career. The self-important hiney-kissing reporter went out of the way to shine a light on how Gwennie has had to try and learn to balance it all. After all, she has the added struggle of trying to keep all of that in tact while shuttling between her two homes, The One in New York and The One in London. I’m not sure, but I think the point of the article was to show that she was just like every other working mom, except for the fact that she is uber-fabulous and hangs out with Madonna and some Princess from Eastern Europe. I’m being serious. The aforementioned hiney-kissing reporter really did say that she was just like regular moms but not really because she is, well, so fancy. Thanks for stating the obvious. Gwyneth described that despite her 2-hour daily workouts, she had learned to accept her weight gain (from a size 4 to a size 6). She described her play dates with Gwen Stefani, and her struggles with making low-maintenance dinners that she and Chris Martin lovingly enjoy after her kids toddle off to bed (apparently her children never resist going to bed until 9:45 at night). I mean, it almost sounded relatable. But then, upon reflection, it really just sounded fancy. So, why didn’t I put the magazine down? I have no idea. I think I was hoping for redemption. You see, I watched a clip of the Tom Cruise/Oprah/Katie Holmes interview on YouTube over the weekend and it was just so…annoying. Annoying and self-important. All of those celebu-moms trying to prove they live a “normal” life with “normal” kids. I guess I wanted to believe that maybe Gwyneth was normal. I mean, I’m normal—where are my 2-hour daily work outs and play dates with Madonna?
Lately I seem to be having a lot of conversations about the fact that my second child gets the short end of the stick. It all started about two months ago when my husband was telling me about an article he read about how each year first-born kids get, on average, 3000 hours more face time from their parents than their later born siblings. We wrangled with this over one of our after-dinner conversations. We openly, if not painfully, admitted that this was probably the case. A perfect example of this happened this week when I took Carmen for her 18-month check up at 21-months. When Carmen was born, there was just more chaos, more to organize, more to juggle.
Here’s the challenge: Our oldest (Ava, almost 4) is extremely verbal, affectionate, and has the typical first-born all-I-want-to-do-is please-you personality. When Ava was small and Carmen was not born yet, she and I would talk and sing all the way to and from child care, she and her dad would draw together for an hour in the evenings, and we took her everywhere with us. Now that there is a little competition in the house, I can hardly have a one-on-one conversation with Carmen if Ava is anywhere within earshot. Ava will pipe up from three rooms over and butt in, totally uninvited. Carmen has been an “observer” since she popped out. She’s not quiet or passive, but is more willing to play on her own and is generally more cautious and careful (except for the constant climbing on stuff). She’s never been cuddly or snuggly. For the first 15 months, she wouldn’t even LET us read to her. She would snatch the book away and “read” to herself. Sometimes for 30 minutes…all by herself. At times it seemed like she didn’t want us around. Literally. It was tough trying to figure out what she even needed us for (other than the obvious diaper change and filling of the sippy cup). So what’s a conscientious parent to do? Understanding her fiercely independent streak, I’ve tried to observe and learn from her with the same vigilance and awe that I did with Ava. I make an extra effort to make prolonged eye contact with Carmen...it sounds silly, I know. When I pick the girls up at child care, I pick her up and kiss her first, I pay attention to her quirky traits (i.e. her obsession with her blanket, her love of shoes, her over-the-top glee when our neighbor’s cat is around). Now that she’s talking in 3-5 word sentences, she seems to be more confident about asking for time individual time so I try to accommodate her as much as possible. Sometimes this literally means taking her out of the house, just the two of us. Despite all of my best efforts, I can’t help it, I still feel guilty. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a firstborn. Maybe its because Ava and I have such similar personalities and I have to work a little harder to understand Carmen. Or maybe, it is because at the end of the day it’s obvious who her favorite person in the house is…Ava. Ava, who, even at four, works to create a distinctively protective, loving, and supportive environment for her. And as my husband pointed out, of all the things we could give Carmen, the best thing we gave her was her sister. |
