Ski Day (I am Momma! Hear me roar!)

I am so glad that I have my husband to share parenting responsibilities. Whenever possible it’s always easier to have him around helping out. Divide and conquer, right? But I also get a sense of pride when I do something with the kids totally on my own. Not just something like taking them to the park, but something new or challenging – like the time I took the boys, then 11 months and 4 years, on a 10 hour trip to visit my parents which involved five hours driving into an unfamiliar city plus five hours on the train. I nearly lost an eye to a bungee cord (long story), but we eventually arrived in one piece. Then there was the time I flew alone with a 3-month-old. Besides explosive diarrhea during take-off, we did great. FYI: Neither airplane bathrooms nor full planes are not conducive to changing diapers. 

I try not to be intimidated about doing things with the boys, because it frees us up to have a whole lot more fun. Not to mention sitting in the house will seriously drive me cra-zy. With a little advanced planning and the mantra, "Stay calm. Stay flexible. Relax." most ventures are manageable.  Not always easy, but manageable.

How far we've come, how far we have to go: On interracial relationships

A couple of weeks ago I picked up the newspaper and found an Associated Press article with the latest statistics on interracial relationships. Maybe you read it too? The article gives all the latest numbers on who is marrying who, citing the rise in interracial relationships as evidence that race relations are improving in the United States.

It definitely makes me happy to see that the numbers are on the rise. More interracial marriages and multiracial families mean more opportunities to break down racial barriers. And as much as we can say “race doesn’t matter,” I find it affirming to see other relationships like mine and especially to see other multiracial families. It's human nature look for reflections of ourselves in the world around us, seeking reassurance that we aren’t totally different from everyone else and that we aren’t alone.

Why our kids need more sleep

Recently a fellow blogger recommended to me the book “NurtureShock” by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman (2009). It is both an easy read and absolutely fascinating. Each chapter covers an issue related to parenting, with the authors turning conventional wisdom on its head by citing research evidence to the contrary. My inner scientist greatly appreciates anything involving solid research to back up claims, so I am totally down with this book.  

 I just read the chapter on sleep and children, while traveling out of town for work and taking full advantage of the chance to get a good night's sleep myself. The research on sleep blows me away. The facts about kids and sleep are something every parent should know. Most of us realize sleep is important for kids, even as we wear our own sleep-deprivation as some warped badge of honor. But do you realize just how important sleep is and what happens when kids lose even an hour of the sleep they need?

Maybe One (guest post)

by photoloni via Creative Commons

This is a guest post written by my friend Meredith, mother to one beautiful daughter. I've written several posts recently about helping kids adjust to an older sibling, and the timing seemed just right to talk about how having multiple kids isn't the "right" decision for everyone. Yet, how do any of us know whether we should add to our families? By following our instincts and listening to our hearts. Much thanks to Meredith for sharing her reflections on what can be a very personal issue.  

Maybe One.  That’s the name of a book written by Bill McKibben (Maybe One: A Personal and Environmental Argument for Single-Child Families, 1999).  It also captures my current thinking about whether or not to have another child.  Maybe one is enough.  Maybe one is just right for our family.  And yet, I question this notion because it’s a minority viewpoint in our country, and many countries for that matter.  Approximately 80% of Americans have siblings.  What’s that order from the Judeo-Christian tradition? “Go forth and multiply.”  Don’t most women want a house full of children?  And besides, aren’t most only children spoiled brats?

Underachieving overachiever

Sometimes I wonder if it made sense for me to spend five years in graduate school and I feel guilty for not doing “more” with that degree I worked so hard for.

There was a time, back when I was a student, when my studies were what excited me and having a great career seemed like everything. I happily studied and worked for most of the day. Now, those psychology texts – books by Winnicott and Kohut and Yalom – are propping up the end of Bee’s crib so he doesn’t get congested at night. Funny how things change.

What not to say to the parent of a biracial child

I was super-excited when Thien-Kim at I'm Not the Nanny invited me to do a guest post on her blog. Please hop on over to Kim's fabulous blog where you'll find her writing about "raising biracial kids in a race-conscious world" and can check out my guest post, What Not to Say to the Parent of a Biracial Child.

As a side note, most of you know I generally don't use pictures of my kids on the blog, for privacy reasons. But I got Hubby to concede to including a couple of pictures of the boys with the post. I used older pictures (so the boys aren't so recognizable as their current 2 and 5-year-old selves), but of course I am happy for any opportunity to show off my cuties!

A Public Service Announcement: Grocery shopping with small children may drive you to drink

There are things about becoming a parent that no one can prepare you for. They may try, but others’ descriptions and stories are a far cry from experiencing the real thing. No one can prepare you for how much you will love your child, so much you would lay down your life for him without hesitation, or the anxiety that will become a constant part of your existence as you worry for his safety and well-being. Or what it is like to go to the grocery store with mobile children under the age of 6. I don’t think anyone even tried to prepare me for that. 

So, as a public service, I will do my best to capture what this is like and impart my best grocery-store-going wisdom upon you, knowing full well that this post cannot do justice to the trauma you will one day experience, if you have not already.

Chasing rainbows: DailyBuzz Moms 9x9

This post was written as part of the DailyBuzz Moms February 9x9 Challenge: Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I am honored to be one of nine bloggers chosen to share a rainbow-inspired project, or in this case a rainbow-inspired outing, to help us through these final gray days of winter. The nine posts will be featured on Feb. 23, so mosey on over to DailyBuzz Moms then and check them out!

Leprechauns are mighty tricky. My 5-year-old will attest to this. He is a firm believer in leprechauns, pots of gold, and rainbows. I may be sliiiiightly responsible for this by making up bedtime stories in which an adventurous little boy stumbles upon the end of a rainbow, solves riddles posed by a small man with a green beard, and is rewarded with shimmering nuggets.

Our first glimpse of the rainbow

I had suspected leprechauns were tricky. When I was little, my parents informed me that anyone who failed to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day would get pinched on the bottom by a leprechaun. I spent at least one day each year with an eye on the classroom door, waiting for a leprechaun to dash across the room and get the kid who wasn’t wearing green. I never saw him, so I had to assume either he was really, really stealthy or the kid had on green underwear. 

Anyway, like mother like son. Zippy is intrigued by the idea of meeting a leprechaun. So after a summer rain last August, when an amazing double rainbow appeared in the field behind our house, Zippy suggested we find the end of it. He was pretty certain the rainbow ended somewhere in a wooded area a little ways off and the leprechaun was waiting at the end of it.

I don't know you! Hi-YA!

I’m sure by now most people have heard about the little girl who fought off her would-be abductor in the middle of Wal-Mart. I try my best not to be overprotective of my kids. Although danger exists out there in The World, there is just no way we can watch our kids 24/7, nor should we.  So we need to teach them how to keep themselves safe while at the same time not making them nervous wrecks who see danger at every turn.

My reaction to this story (after first thinking, Way to go, kid! and Thank God she got away!) was that I should give Zippy a booster lesson on what to do if someone ever tries to steal him. Since Zippy was about three, we’ve had conversations every so often about never going anywhere with someone without checking with Momma or Daddy first, even if it is someone he knows. These conversations haven't seemed to worry him much. He's always been confident that he is VERY strong and could just dump a bad guy in the trash. We’ve talked about things someone might say to trick a kid into going off with them, but I just realized I hadn’t taught him what to do if someone tries to grab him (trash can plan aside).

In the spirit of Valentine's

This year, I suggested to Hubby that we skip the gifts for Valentine’s Day and just celebrate with a romantic dinner out. I’d like to say my motivation was a noble one, but the truth is he is really, really hard to buy for. And he is an amazing gift giver who always finds just the right thing. Between Christmas, V-Day, Father’s Day, and our anniversary, it feels like a never-ending cycle. Every 2 months I am racking my brain to think of some thoughtful, personal gift that will show just how much I love and appreciate him. It’s too much pressure, people!!!  Also, I feel like we are really, really blessed and there isn’t much I need, so it seems wasteful to give gifts just because we’re “supposed to.”  

Still, I wanted to do something special to celebrate the day and share the love not just with Hubby but also with the boys.

Dining out with little ones

Hubby and I have always enjoyed going out to dinner. Back in the day (which is code for “before kids”) we often ate out a couple nights a week.  Once Zippy came along, we cut back, but not much. Hubby is perfectly content staying home, but when Saturday evening rolls around I am itching to get out of the house.  I love to cook, but I love eating out even more.

If your last restaurant experience with kids was a total fiasco, well, that might be inevitable and it will probably happen again at some point. But here are a few strategies to increase the chances of an enjoyable meal out with little ones.

The power of Date Night

I vividly remember sitting across from Hubby at dinner one night when Zippy was just a few weeks old and thinking to myself, Will we ever have another conversation about something other than the baby? What DID we talk about before he was born, anyway? Why can’t I even think of anything to say to my husband that is not about this darling baby?  Oh my gosh, do we have anything in common anymore?

Beyond peanut butter & jelly

Hmm, I guess there is something to this idea that if you expose a child to a food enough times, eventually he’ll eat it.  This thought passed through my mind a couple of nights ago when I realized Zippy had just eaten a taco – WITHOUT COMPLAINING! And a few days before he had informed me that he likes the pierogies at daycare. Pierogies? Since when does this child eat pierogies? I’ve never even eaten a pierogie. 

If given the choice, I think Zippy would have spent his life eating nothing but fruit, yogurt, pb&j, and plain spaghetti. God forbid someone serves the child spaghetti with sauce on it. The kid didn't even like pizza. PIZZA!!! What kid doesn't like pizza?!

Weaning: Part III (or, The Process Continues)

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m ready to be done with this nursing thing. Although I figured this time would come, it also surprises me. I have loved nursing Bee. I’m proud that we’ve gone so long and I’ve cherished the experience. Since Hubby and I won’t be having any more kids, I know that once Bee is weaned, this beautiful part of my parenting journey will be over.  When Zippy was a baby I fully expected I’d nurse again with #2, so somehow weaning him wasn’t a particularly emotional experience for me. But all along with Bee I’ve been aware that once we are done I won’t be doing this again.

I still love nursing. It’s the TIME that it takes that is becoming more and more of a burden and as Bee has gotten older, adding that time to our routine has started to feel like a big, fat inconvenience.  First, we add an extra 15 or 20 minutes to an already hectic morning routine. Then 10 or 15 before nap, another few minutes after nap, and finally the bedtime nurse. On the days Bee attends daycare, he has a Nurse-Fest as soon as he arrives home. I used to see this as a wonderful luxury – I would get to chill with my baby, feet up, while Hubby cooked dinner. Now I feel like I am being held hostage on the couch by a mini-tyrant who does acrobatics on my lap and occasionally stops to check out what everyone else is up to, but refuses to let me get up and join the action.

Relationship + Rules

A wonderful friend, who also happens to be an amazing family therapist, has these words on a sign she made for her office:

I love that. It is so simple and so true.

I’ll throw a little psychology in this post and point out that her sign captures what research has shown. In general, in the U.S., kids with authoritative parents have the most well-adjusted kids. Authoritative parents are the ones who have high but clear and fair expectations. They have consequences for their kids, but they are warm, nurturing, and responsive in the process. As preschoolers, their kids tend to be emotionally responsive, self reliant, and cooperative. As teens they tend to be more mature and have higher achievement. These kids are the most likely to have good social skills, cope effectively, be happy and confident, and to adopt their parents’ values.  Yeah – that’s the kind of kid I want! 

Kids with authoritarian parents – the “You’ll do what I say because I said so” type or parents who use tactics like yelling and physical discipline to get their kids to behave – often have poorer self-esteem and are prone to depression.  If the parents are harsh or erratic with discipline, these kids are more likely to rebel as teens, becoming delinquent or aggressive. (Although in certain cultures, authoritative parenting is associated with more positive outcomes – so context plays a role here.) Kids with overly permissive parents who are loving but have few rules or expectations are more likely to be impulsive, have behavior problems, and do poorly at school. 

But I think my friend’s sign says it better.

Great motivator or ridiculous reward?

Last Saturday, I took Bee to a children’s museum with a friend, while Hubby took Zippy to his U6 basketball game at the Y. When we got home, Zippy was off playing, so Hubby filled me in. Apparently, Zippy had played his best game ever. He was quite the little superstar on the court. No baskets, but he was running up and down the court, going after the rebounds, playing active defense, and took a ton of shots. He played the entire first half, sweating his little tooshie off and begging his coach to let him stay in the game. This had a contagion effect on the whole team, which upped its game, and afterward the coach came over to congratulate Zippy on a job well done. Wow! I was surprised, since this was a big turnaround from previous games, but I was also totally impressed and admittedly feeling really proud.

“Yeah,” Hubby said, “I told him if he got a basket during the game I’d buy him a new Star Wars toy.”

Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, what’s that you say? Rewind, please. You told him WHAT?

Thinking more about race & a 5-year-old's perspective

Given that Zippy seems to be transitioning to a new way of understanding race (see this and this), I decided it was time to pull out my POBK bible, “Does Anybody Else Look Like Me?” by Donna Jackson Nakazawa. Okay, for full disclosure, I should admit that besides occasionally reading bits of Beverly Tatum’s books, Nakazawa’s book is the only book I’ve bought about raising multiracial children. But that is in part because it is an awesome book so I haven’t bothered looking elsewhere. Also, I’m not very inclined to read non-fiction, so one good book is enough for me. (No, I’m not getting any royalties off sales of this book!) 

The chapters are organized by age/developmental stage, so it was time to read past the preschoolers chapter and dive into the chapter on grade school kids. 

Siesta! (Yes, I sleep during the day)

Shhhhhh. Be very, very quiet. Listen. Do you hear that? No? Nothing? That’s silence. That’s the sound of my house round about 2 pm. The boys are down for their naps and, more often than not, hubby and I nap too. Is that strange? I realize that here in the States, where people over the age of 5 and under the age of 80 are expected to keep going all day long, our nap habit may raise some eyebrows - or at least judgments of either "lazy" or "lucky," depending on your perspective. But people nap in parts of Europe, right? And Latin America? Otherwise why would we have the word siesta? 

My husband and I both cherish our sleep. Well, he cherishes sleep. I cherish being well-rested, which I’ve learned actually requires sleep. If I could be well-rested with sleeping, I wouldn’t bother going to bed. There are already not enough hours in the day, so if I could have those 8 hours of sleep or that hour of nap to do something else, I would.

We love sleep so much that for the better part of the past two years, since Bee was born, my husband has been sleeping in the guest room. Now, is that weird? It works for us and I’m at peace with it, but I admit I have discouraged Zippy from calling the guest room “Daddy’s room” because that is just going too far and God forbid he says that in front of a neighbor. They might wonder what is happening in that family down the street. (The answer? Not much.)

 I don’t want to blame Bee for our separate bedroom routine, but it really is his fault, crappy sleeper that he’s been. Even now that he is sleeping pretty well, he likes to do this thing once or twice a night where he cries out for about 5 seconds and then goes right on sleeping.  Hubby is a very light sleeper, which means this wakes up him and he can’t fall back asleep.  Off and on he’s snuck back into our bed, only to be thoroughly exhausted the next day. I can see him stumbling through the morning, just biding his time until he can collapse in bed for naptime. It’s not a pretty sight. Me, I can sleep through anything and fall back asleep pretty quickly if I’m woken. I think it might be a mom-thing…an adaptive trait handed down over generations, enabling me to care for my young. (Yes, hubby needs to care for the young, too… But my feminist self will still admit that perhaps evolution didn’t select for care-taking traits in men in the same way it shaped them in women. My husband actually found a study that found men are more severely affected by sleep deprivation after children are born than are women. Surprising?)  

On the weekends, when there is no work to be rested for the following day – besides the intense work of parenting – we snuggle up in the same bed. Even then, we often nap the next afternoon.  (It’s possible I just want an excuse to slip between the fleece sheets we got last year. Oh, how I looove fleece sheets!) 

I look forward to the day we’ll both be able to get a good night’s sleep and wake up feeling rested. Then I can spend mid-day being "productive." But for now, I’m thankful for a peacefully quiet house and my siesta.