Yesterday, I was a panelist for a forum on Making Part Time Work in Law by the Women's Bar Association. There were four panelists and all of us had varying reduced hours arrangements in our legal fields. It was interesting to hear the differences in our schedules and work structures. It made me realize there are so many solutions to creating flexibility as part of a legal career. Unfortunately, it is a solution so often missed by the powers that be - which accounts for women leaving law firms in record numbers despite women now accounting for more than half of law school graduates.
One of the recurring themes of the panel was the pursuit of balance. I think we all agreed that balance remains elusive for every mom. For me, just when I think I have reached a point of balance and ease in my life is just when things get interesting. Yesterday, I believed I had it all together. We were all up and out of the house ahead of schedule. I confered with Aidan's teacher on homeroom parent responsibilities prework and headed to work to arrive on time. I spoke (in complete sentences and without interruptions!) to a room of peers about my career. After work, the kiddies were happy. The hubbie was happy. All was good. I had balance.
Then there is today. This morning, Chris and I wasted twenty minutes tearing apart the house looking for Aidan's school folder with the field trip permission slips I had carefully signed and tucked away for school the night before. Chris finally found it. In the garage. In a bag of garbage. Apparently, I had signed the permission slips, put the money for the field trips in an envelope, wrote a note to Aidan's teacher - placed them all in the folder and then TOSSED IT ALL IN THE GARBAGE on top of the coffee grounds and the urine soaked diapers. I have no idea. None. Then I lost my car keys. After another ten minutes of searching, I leave for work (now late), plop my coffee on the center console so I can get my bag in my car and promptly knock the coffee over into the back seat spilling all over the floor.
I would run inside and grab some paper towels or napkins to clean up the coffee slowly soaking into my car's interior, but I remembered we have absolutely no paper products left in our house. NONE. (except for a few rolls of toilet paper.) Because this week, I remembered to buy three different kinds of juice boxes, but I forgot all about the napkins n' stuff. So instead, I used one of the kids' sweatshirts left in the car to hastily clean up the spill as best I can.
During the day, I get two calls from the boys' school because Brennan is having a hay fever attack with swollen eyes. I then battle the guilt of leaving my son with swollen eyes and stuffy nose at school, but weigh it against the impossibility of leaving work to pick up my child because of a sensitivity to pollen. After work, the boys are in true Wednesday cranky form - and manage to cry or whine or fight just about every second I have with them right up until bed.
Now the boys are asleep. And I know for sure, I have no balance. I have good days, bad days and alot of days that fall somewhere in between. But on most days, we are happy. On most days, we make it work. I guess that is balanced enough for me.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
My Boston Baked Bean
Chris and I are stumped on how in the world Brennan has developed a strong Boston/New Englander accent when the only time he has been to the New England region was the trip to Cape Cod we took when he was in utero. But, strangely enough – it’s there.
He is wicked at “pahking his cahs in the Hahvid Yahd” despite the fact he has spent his life in Upstate New York. Sometimes, his accent almost sounds like he is from Brooklyn, but nine times out of ten – he sounds like a little Boston Baked Bean hanging out at Faneuil Hall.
He is wicked at “pahking his cahs in the Hahvid Yahd” despite the fact he has spent his life in Upstate New York. Sometimes, his accent almost sounds like he is from Brooklyn, but nine times out of ten – he sounds like a little Boston Baked Bean hanging out at Faneuil Hall.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Vacation Hangover
Before children, I returned from vacation refreshed, well rested and energized. I was rejuvenated to push forward with life, gleaming with health and sleep.
After children, you do not return from vacation refreshed, well rested and energized. (Well, you do if you managed to vacation without your kiddies or with a full time nanny. Unfortunately, neither apply to my life.)
Vacationing with children is sort of like going on an all night, bender of a party in your college days. You enjoy it while you're doing it. (All those shots of tequila go down REAL easy... Hmmm, okay at least they did for me.) But, the next morning you feel like crap. You're tired and headachy and grumpy. You are confronted with a hang over of nightmare proportions.
My lovely vacation in Florida with my kiddies was great. We loved the beach. We all had a fantastic time. But reentry into normal life has left us all with a bitch of a vacation hangover. I have huge bags under my eyes brought on by an eight day sleep drought. I am grumpy. I am physically exhausted. Even worse, the kiddies are hung over too. They are beyond tired. Their behavior is an abomination. And the tantrums are coming fast and furious.
In short, we are not an attractive family right now. We are coming dangerously close to being like those families you see featured on Super Nanny. It is not good.
My only remedy for our family hangover may be an early bed tonight for the boys and margaritas for Chris and me. It may not be a long term solution, but it might just help push us over the hump.
After children, you do not return from vacation refreshed, well rested and energized. (Well, you do if you managed to vacation without your kiddies or with a full time nanny. Unfortunately, neither apply to my life.)
Vacationing with children is sort of like going on an all night, bender of a party in your college days. You enjoy it while you're doing it. (All those shots of tequila go down REAL easy... Hmmm, okay at least they did for me.) But, the next morning you feel like crap. You're tired and headachy and grumpy. You are confronted with a hang over of nightmare proportions.
My lovely vacation in Florida with my kiddies was great. We loved the beach. We all had a fantastic time. But reentry into normal life has left us all with a bitch of a vacation hangover. I have huge bags under my eyes brought on by an eight day sleep drought. I am grumpy. I am physically exhausted. Even worse, the kiddies are hung over too. They are beyond tired. Their behavior is an abomination. And the tantrums are coming fast and furious.
In short, we are not an attractive family right now. We are coming dangerously close to being like those families you see featured on Super Nanny. It is not good.
My only remedy for our family hangover may be an early bed tonight for the boys and margaritas for Chris and me. It may not be a long term solution, but it might just help push us over the hump.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Nothing Like a Beach Vacation
There is no family vacation like a beach vacation. The beach makes it all worth it. It isn’t easy to travel with small children, let alone three boys five and under. But, give me seven days on a beach surrounded by my children, white sand, blue waters and warm sun – and well, we can survive the traveling part.
The boys loved the annual jaunt to Florida – sand to dig, waves to surf, shells to be found. The boys hit the beach the moment we arrived with enthusiasm despite the slightly chilly air and rough waves. Griffin watched the waves for a minute and then ran as fast as his little legs could carry him straight into the surf. He was promptly knocked over by a wave and came up sputtering salt water. He spent the next few days trying to dodge the water encroaching upon his beach territory, but soon enough he was running right back into the surf, eager to skip in the waves with his brothers.
Our first few days on vacation we had the company of my cousins Liam and Nicole. My cousins love to be with my boys and spent hours digging, running and amusing them. They also introduced Chris and I to our new addiction: Guitar Hero. After the boys were in bed, we spent hours in rock star showdowns. I finally had to admit defeat to Chris as he moved on to the intermediate level, while I stayed behind as a beginner guitar rocker. (Of course, my cousins wowed us all with their expert level maneuvers. Oh to be thirteen again!)
On day two of vacation, the sun and warmth returned with the Gulf of Mexico as clear and glassy as a aqua blue lake. The waves were barely ripples across the surface of the water. We spent the morning hunting sand dollars. Liam bested us all with the seven he uncovered on the ocean floor. I was proud of my one discovery! Aidan and Brennan found pieces of coral and clams – all saved to bring home to show their friends at school.
We spent every day digging a giant ditch close to the waves where the boys would play and build. The ditch would become a man made tidal pool as the incoming waves filled it up with water. Griffin would plant himself into this pool for hours, content to splash and run his fingers through the sand. Aidan and Brennan amused themselves by surfing the softer waves. They ran to and from the water trying to jump over the edge of the tide. Brennan even came up with quite a spectacular routine for the water’s edge involving spins and jumps and sideways somersaults all capped off with a dramatic kick and punch at the water. His routine was appropriately named the: Mr. Incredible Routine. I asked him to perform his dance for us again and again. It only got funnier each time he did it. (Trust me: you have to see it to believe it.)
We enjoyed quality time with my grandparents and my mother (Grandma JoJo), who joined us for a few days. Aidan and my grandfather may be made for each other. Aidan can ask any question and my grandfather will always come up with a thoughtful and factual answer. I had tears in my eyes to see Griffin cuddled up with both of my grandparents so readily and easily. My grandmother spoiled us all with her homemade sauce and meatballs. (We begged to eat leftovers for two nights straight.) And the boys loved the chance to torture Grandma JoJo with some quality time amongst the waves.
The only thing we didn’t get to enjoy all that much? Sleep. The five of us shared one room, rotating Aidan and Brennan from an air mattress on the floor to the middle of the bed with Chris and me. Aidan is a kicker, a snorer and a teeth grinder. On the nights he was in bed with us, I barely slept a wink. Brennan, on the other hand, is great – once he manages to sleep. He kept the other two boys awake each night with his singing and playing and story telling. That boy does. not. sleep. Griffin did his part to encourage the sleep boycott by waking us all up at 5 a.m. every morning. I never knew that a vacation with children meant I would need a vacation to recover from the vacation.
The travels home were long. We remembered to keep a sense of humor when Griffin got a little car sick in the back seat and threw up on the way to the airport. We laughed when Brennan spent twenty minutes yelling his stomach hurt and he had to go poopie in the car, only to let out the most giant man-sized burp. (Brennan’s response after the burp? “Huh, now I feel better. Momma, I guess I don’t have to go poopie at all.”) We managed to keep good cheer as we ran from the end of one terminal to the end of another terminal trying to make our tight connection. (Okay, okay, I may have threatened the boys to pick up their pace or else we were going to have to sleep at the airport.) But my personal favorite of the trip home was turning to Aidan during the safety demonstration on the airplane and seeing him reading the airline safety card. At my inquisitive look, he said, “What? They told us to review it. I’m reviewing it. Would you like to review it with me?” (My second favorite moment of the trip home was Brennan watching Scooby Doo with headphones on and singing along to the theme song, not realizing that the whole plane could hear him.)
But now, it is back to reality. Chris and I worked today, the boys were back at school and there are buckets of dirty, sandy clothes strewn around the house. At least, I have the pictures of vacation to comfort me.
The boys loved the annual jaunt to Florida – sand to dig, waves to surf, shells to be found. The boys hit the beach the moment we arrived with enthusiasm despite the slightly chilly air and rough waves. Griffin watched the waves for a minute and then ran as fast as his little legs could carry him straight into the surf. He was promptly knocked over by a wave and came up sputtering salt water. He spent the next few days trying to dodge the water encroaching upon his beach territory, but soon enough he was running right back into the surf, eager to skip in the waves with his brothers.
Our first few days on vacation we had the company of my cousins Liam and Nicole. My cousins love to be with my boys and spent hours digging, running and amusing them. They also introduced Chris and I to our new addiction: Guitar Hero. After the boys were in bed, we spent hours in rock star showdowns. I finally had to admit defeat to Chris as he moved on to the intermediate level, while I stayed behind as a beginner guitar rocker. (Of course, my cousins wowed us all with their expert level maneuvers. Oh to be thirteen again!)
On day two of vacation, the sun and warmth returned with the Gulf of Mexico as clear and glassy as a aqua blue lake. The waves were barely ripples across the surface of the water. We spent the morning hunting sand dollars. Liam bested us all with the seven he uncovered on the ocean floor. I was proud of my one discovery! Aidan and Brennan found pieces of coral and clams – all saved to bring home to show their friends at school.
We spent every day digging a giant ditch close to the waves where the boys would play and build. The ditch would become a man made tidal pool as the incoming waves filled it up with water. Griffin would plant himself into this pool for hours, content to splash and run his fingers through the sand. Aidan and Brennan amused themselves by surfing the softer waves. They ran to and from the water trying to jump over the edge of the tide. Brennan even came up with quite a spectacular routine for the water’s edge involving spins and jumps and sideways somersaults all capped off with a dramatic kick and punch at the water. His routine was appropriately named the: Mr. Incredible Routine. I asked him to perform his dance for us again and again. It only got funnier each time he did it. (Trust me: you have to see it to believe it.)
We enjoyed quality time with my grandparents and my mother (Grandma JoJo), who joined us for a few days. Aidan and my grandfather may be made for each other. Aidan can ask any question and my grandfather will always come up with a thoughtful and factual answer. I had tears in my eyes to see Griffin cuddled up with both of my grandparents so readily and easily. My grandmother spoiled us all with her homemade sauce and meatballs. (We begged to eat leftovers for two nights straight.) And the boys loved the chance to torture Grandma JoJo with some quality time amongst the waves.
The only thing we didn’t get to enjoy all that much? Sleep. The five of us shared one room, rotating Aidan and Brennan from an air mattress on the floor to the middle of the bed with Chris and me. Aidan is a kicker, a snorer and a teeth grinder. On the nights he was in bed with us, I barely slept a wink. Brennan, on the other hand, is great – once he manages to sleep. He kept the other two boys awake each night with his singing and playing and story telling. That boy does. not. sleep. Griffin did his part to encourage the sleep boycott by waking us all up at 5 a.m. every morning. I never knew that a vacation with children meant I would need a vacation to recover from the vacation.
The travels home were long. We remembered to keep a sense of humor when Griffin got a little car sick in the back seat and threw up on the way to the airport. We laughed when Brennan spent twenty minutes yelling his stomach hurt and he had to go poopie in the car, only to let out the most giant man-sized burp. (Brennan’s response after the burp? “Huh, now I feel better. Momma, I guess I don’t have to go poopie at all.”) We managed to keep good cheer as we ran from the end of one terminal to the end of another terminal trying to make our tight connection. (Okay, okay, I may have threatened the boys to pick up their pace or else we were going to have to sleep at the airport.) But my personal favorite of the trip home was turning to Aidan during the safety demonstration on the airplane and seeing him reading the airline safety card. At my inquisitive look, he said, “What? They told us to review it. I’m reviewing it. Would you like to review it with me?” (My second favorite moment of the trip home was Brennan watching Scooby Doo with headphones on and singing along to the theme song, not realizing that the whole plane could hear him.)
But now, it is back to reality. Chris and I worked today, the boys were back at school and there are buckets of dirty, sandy clothes strewn around the house. At least, I have the pictures of vacation to comfort me.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Googling
The last two people who happened upon my blog via the search super powers of Google were searching the terms "boogers in swimming pool" and/or "holding pee during school." This makes me feel like my life is truly fabulous.
Nothing to see here people but boogers and pee. Nothing at all.
Nothing to see here people but boogers and pee. Nothing at all.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Meet the Incredibles
Brennan is a little addicted to the movie The Incredibles. I am ashamed to say he can now recite the movie by heart and often you will find him whispering the lines right along with the characters as he watches the movie with rapt attention. His obsession has spread to his requiring us to refer to him not as Brennan, but as Mr. Incredible. He not only goes by the name Mr. Incredible, but he really, truly believes he has become Mr. Incredible. In fact, he spends a lot of time going around the house trying to prove how strong he is – just like Mr. Incredible - by lifting up a lot of our furniture. This means I spend a lot of time begging Brennan to “please put down the ottoman already Brennan okay?”
As part of the Incredibles obsession, we have all been assigned parts. Aidan is Fro-Zone, or as Aidan likes to call him, “Mr. Freeze Man.” Griffin has been assigned the role of “Dash.” I am told I am “ElastiGirl.” (My assigned character led to a long drawn out discussion among me and my sons because they were concerned that, perhaps, I would prefer to be Violet, because, you know, Violet can disappear and that is very cool. But ElastiGirl can stretch very, very far and that is cool too and she is the mom, so it was determined I must be ElastiGirl.)
When Chris returned from his business trip last week, the boys informed him he must also be a character from the Incredibles. (The family that pretends together stays together, right?).
After thinking about it for a moment, Chris said, “I’ll be Mr. Incredible!”
The boys shook their heads in unison as Brennan scoffed at Chris and said with fervor, “I am Mr. Incredible, Daddy.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll be Fro-Zone!”
“No, no, no – Aidan is Fro-Zone, Daddy!” Brennan exclaimed.
“Dash?”
“Nope, that’s Griffin.” Aidan said pointing to Griffin.
Chris looks over to me for some assistance. I laugh and shake my head.
“How about the baby Dad? Do you want to be the Baby?” Aidan asks with seriousness.
Chris looks mildly offended. “No, I don’t want to be the baby!”
Brennan looks thoughtful and then yells, “I know! You can be the thwreat.”
“Who?” We all ask.
“The Thwreat! The Thwreat!” Brennan yells back.
No matter how many times he repeats it, we still had no idea what he was talking about.
The next day Brennan and I are (once again) watching the Incredibles. The movie’s antagonist/ bad guy “Buddy” appears on the screen. Immediately, Brennan points to the television and yells to me, “There! There’s Daddy! The thwreat! He’s the thwreat. See, mommy? The thwreat!”
Oh, the Threat. I laugh so hard tears pour from my eyes.
As part of the Incredibles obsession, we have all been assigned parts. Aidan is Fro-Zone, or as Aidan likes to call him, “Mr. Freeze Man.” Griffin has been assigned the role of “Dash.” I am told I am “ElastiGirl.” (My assigned character led to a long drawn out discussion among me and my sons because they were concerned that, perhaps, I would prefer to be Violet, because, you know, Violet can disappear and that is very cool. But ElastiGirl can stretch very, very far and that is cool too and she is the mom, so it was determined I must be ElastiGirl.)
When Chris returned from his business trip last week, the boys informed him he must also be a character from the Incredibles. (The family that pretends together stays together, right?).
After thinking about it for a moment, Chris said, “I’ll be Mr. Incredible!”
The boys shook their heads in unison as Brennan scoffed at Chris and said with fervor, “I am Mr. Incredible, Daddy.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll be Fro-Zone!”
“No, no, no – Aidan is Fro-Zone, Daddy!” Brennan exclaimed.
“Dash?”
“Nope, that’s Griffin.” Aidan said pointing to Griffin.
Chris looks over to me for some assistance. I laugh and shake my head.
“How about the baby Dad? Do you want to be the Baby?” Aidan asks with seriousness.
Chris looks mildly offended. “No, I don’t want to be the baby!”
Brennan looks thoughtful and then yells, “I know! You can be the thwreat.”
“Who?” We all ask.
“The Thwreat! The Thwreat!” Brennan yells back.
No matter how many times he repeats it, we still had no idea what he was talking about.
The next day Brennan and I are (once again) watching the Incredibles. The movie’s antagonist/ bad guy “Buddy” appears on the screen. Immediately, Brennan points to the television and yells to me, “There! There’s Daddy! The thwreat! He’s the thwreat. See, mommy? The thwreat!”
Oh, the Threat. I laugh so hard tears pour from my eyes.
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Spiderman Popsicle
We have our annual trip to Florida coming up. I have a million and one things to do. Things to pack. Things to buy. Laundry to wash. Clothes to organize. Hair to be cut. I was at home with the boys on Thursday, rather than working, thanks to my going into the office on Monday. I figured I could knock off my to do list one by one - and have it all done by the end of the day. Game on.
Instead of packing, we spent the morning outside collecting rocks and analyzing drains residing in the mile radius around hour house. We collected a lot of rocks. Who knew there were so many drains? I figured I could recapture my productivity during nap time.
The joke was on me because no one napped. Aidan got off the bus from school and I figured we could at least cross hair cuts of my list. Hair cuts done. We stopped for ice cream. Brennan opted for some over processed, over dyed, manufactured spider man ice cream Popsicle instead of just a normal ice cream cone. I should have said no. I should have pushed him towards some normal Perry's ice cream. I didn't.
And that is how we came to spend our Thursday evening in the Emergency Room.
Brennan had an allergic reaction to the over processed goodness of that damn Popsicle. He started coughing, and at first, we thought he was faking. (I need to write that again. WE THOUGHT HE WAS FAKING.) It took some serious wheezing and some nice face swelling to bring it home for us. (We are parental geniuses us! We are!)
Brennan stayed calm throughout the whole allergy attack, the probing by the nurses and doctors, and in the face of his mother's hysteria. He even managed to maintain his composure while he vomited all over the hospital waiting room. (Hi Ms. E.R. nurse? When parents yell they need a bucket? Yeah, we need it like NOW, not in ten minutes, Okay?)
After an eternity in the waiting room and then the examining room, my sweet little three year old turned to me with swollen eyes, a little red puffy face and through his wheezing garbled to me, "Mom, this is taking forevah!"
It did take forever, but he is good and recovered now. I am terrified every time he eats, scared it will happen again. We knew there was a strong possibility one (or all) of our kids would have to deal with allergies, thanks to Chris's childhood of an allergy to, well, practically anything and everything. But this still threw me for a loop. A big, scary, terrifying loop.
Instead of packing, we spent the morning outside collecting rocks and analyzing drains residing in the mile radius around hour house. We collected a lot of rocks. Who knew there were so many drains? I figured I could recapture my productivity during nap time.
The joke was on me because no one napped. Aidan got off the bus from school and I figured we could at least cross hair cuts of my list. Hair cuts done. We stopped for ice cream. Brennan opted for some over processed, over dyed, manufactured spider man ice cream Popsicle instead of just a normal ice cream cone. I should have said no. I should have pushed him towards some normal Perry's ice cream. I didn't.
And that is how we came to spend our Thursday evening in the Emergency Room.
Brennan had an allergic reaction to the over processed goodness of that damn Popsicle. He started coughing, and at first, we thought he was faking. (I need to write that again. WE THOUGHT HE WAS FAKING.) It took some serious wheezing and some nice face swelling to bring it home for us. (We are parental geniuses us! We are!)
Brennan stayed calm throughout the whole allergy attack, the probing by the nurses and doctors, and in the face of his mother's hysteria. He even managed to maintain his composure while he vomited all over the hospital waiting room. (Hi Ms. E.R. nurse? When parents yell they need a bucket? Yeah, we need it like NOW, not in ten minutes, Okay?)
After an eternity in the waiting room and then the examining room, my sweet little three year old turned to me with swollen eyes, a little red puffy face and through his wheezing garbled to me, "Mom, this is taking forevah!"
It did take forever, but he is good and recovered now. I am terrified every time he eats, scared it will happen again. We knew there was a strong possibility one (or all) of our kids would have to deal with allergies, thanks to Chris's childhood of an allergy to, well, practically anything and everything. But this still threw me for a loop. A big, scary, terrifying loop.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Attack of the Urine
As I walk past the boys’ bathroom, I notice Brennan standing about a foot away from the toilet attempting to go to the bathroom. While he has managed to pull down his pants, he has his shirt pulled down to the top of his legs. I stop, let out a frustrated sigh and say, “Brennan!”
Brennan nonchalantly turns to look at me with his hands on his hips and pants down around his ankles. After a beat, he asks, “What?”
“You just peed all over the place. It’s all over the floor, you, and your t-shirt! You need to stand closer to the toilet! At least attempt some aim! And pull up your shirt!”
Brennan shrugs his shoulders and looks over at the toilet, “Well, I got some of it in, didn’t I?”
This is payback for every time I complained about my brothers’ atrocious bathroom habits when we were growing up. Karma has bitten me in the ass and given me three boys with the ability to pee far and wide, but with horrible aim. I see many years of cleaning up urine in my future. Many, many years.
Brennan nonchalantly turns to look at me with his hands on his hips and pants down around his ankles. After a beat, he asks, “What?”
“You just peed all over the place. It’s all over the floor, you, and your t-shirt! You need to stand closer to the toilet! At least attempt some aim! And pull up your shirt!”
Brennan shrugs his shoulders and looks over at the toilet, “Well, I got some of it in, didn’t I?”
This is payback for every time I complained about my brothers’ atrocious bathroom habits when we were growing up. Karma has bitten me in the ass and given me three boys with the ability to pee far and wide, but with horrible aim. I see many years of cleaning up urine in my future. Many, many years.
Monday, April 07, 2008
A Rant on Stereotypes
I am attempting to plow through the paperwork required to reregister Brennan and Griffin for daycare next year. As part of the student information sheet, the form asks I fill in name, employment and contact information for each parent. In the slot for the mother’s information, the form requests the mother’s cell phone and home phone. In the slot for the father’s information, the form requests the father’s cell phone and work phone.
How in the hell would the daycare center get in touch with me at home when I am at work? Why is it they assume the mother should be contacted either at home or via cell, while the father has the option of a work contact? And is it wrong that this annoys me so very much?
I am just as annoyed by Aidan’s school and the whole “homeroom mother” label. Why is it this is a post geared for mothers and not fathers? Is there a reason we can’t call it the “homeroom parent”? (I swear, I am going to sign Chris up to be the homeroom parent some year just to make a point of it. Yes, I probably will end up doing most of the freakin’ work, but it’s the POINT of it.) I refuse to call myself Aidan’s homeroom mother. I am a homeroom PARENT. Perhaps the fathers would be more willing to sign up for the job if we dropped the whole “mother” requirement.
It also offends me how some of the volunteer coordinators at Aidan's school bend over backwards when Chris signs up to volunteer because he is the father, and therefore, he is busy with important work things. We even had a mother who left a message on our home phone apologizing for changes in a volunteer schedule that affected Chris. The gist of her apology was she did not realize when she made the changes that he was the dad, and not the mom, and therefore, he must be busy working and thus, much more inconvenienced.
I resent the implication that school and the navigation of school responsibilities is solely women’s work. It only reinforces traditional gender stereotypes, instead of reflecting the reality of today’s world. I work. My husband works. We both volunteer at school. I may be more involved since I work part time, but we are both involved.
Isn’t it time the labels and forms and attitudes of schools evolved? Am I just making too much of all of this?
How in the hell would the daycare center get in touch with me at home when I am at work? Why is it they assume the mother should be contacted either at home or via cell, while the father has the option of a work contact? And is it wrong that this annoys me so very much?
I am just as annoyed by Aidan’s school and the whole “homeroom mother” label. Why is it this is a post geared for mothers and not fathers? Is there a reason we can’t call it the “homeroom parent”? (I swear, I am going to sign Chris up to be the homeroom parent some year just to make a point of it. Yes, I probably will end up doing most of the freakin’ work, but it’s the POINT of it.) I refuse to call myself Aidan’s homeroom mother. I am a homeroom PARENT. Perhaps the fathers would be more willing to sign up for the job if we dropped the whole “mother” requirement.
It also offends me how some of the volunteer coordinators at Aidan's school bend over backwards when Chris signs up to volunteer because he is the father, and therefore, he is busy with important work things. We even had a mother who left a message on our home phone apologizing for changes in a volunteer schedule that affected Chris. The gist of her apology was she did not realize when she made the changes that he was the dad, and not the mom, and therefore, he must be busy working and thus, much more inconvenienced.
I resent the implication that school and the navigation of school responsibilities is solely women’s work. It only reinforces traditional gender stereotypes, instead of reflecting the reality of today’s world. I work. My husband works. We both volunteer at school. I may be more involved since I work part time, but we are both involved.
Isn’t it time the labels and forms and attitudes of schools evolved? Am I just making too much of all of this?
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Back to the Park
I love the first weekend of warmer temperatures and sun. After a long winter, everyone emerges from their homes eager to soak up some sunshine and enjoy the first signs of spring. The boys played outside for most of the day yesterday, loving every minute of the spring air.
This morning we hit the playground for the first time this season. It was a little muddy, but the boys were euphoric to have the chance to climb, swing and dig at the lake's beach for snails and rocks. All this fresh air and activity is also making for a fantastic nap time today - giving all of us another reason to truly appreciate the arrival of warm weather.
This morning we hit the playground for the first time this season. It was a little muddy, but the boys were euphoric to have the chance to climb, swing and dig at the lake's beach for snails and rocks. All this fresh air and activity is also making for a fantastic nap time today - giving all of us another reason to truly appreciate the arrival of warm weather.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
My Practice Baby
I was lucky enough as a child to have a real live doll to practice my mothering technique. My "doll" was born when I was ten years old. I dreamed night after night of the little sister my mother was going to bring home from the hospital to be my playmate. My mother was even convinced she was having a girl. So convinced, in fact, that she promised me if she did not bring home a baby sister for me, then she would take me on a girls only trip to the Bahamas.
Imagine my surprise, then, when my brother Seth and I were told during our Saturday morning viewing of our very favorite show - the Smurfs - that we had a new baby brother. Brother?! I was inconsolable. Boy?! Where's my sister? Where's my girl?! I was now outnumbered two to one. Seth was, needless to say, overjoyed.
A boy was born. My mom named him Travis. I never did get my trip to the Bahamas.
Travis became all our baby. A loveable chubb of a baby with an easy grin, curly locks of brown hair, a little red nose and big hazel eyes full of mischief. Today, that baby turns 26.
Very happy birthday wishes to my youngest brother, Travis. Our baby of the family is good and grown. I wish you a day full of special celebration - and hopefully a Sabres victory to top off your big day.
Now, could you talk to Mom about that trip to the Bahamas she still owes me?
Imagine my surprise, then, when my brother Seth and I were told during our Saturday morning viewing of our very favorite show - the Smurfs - that we had a new baby brother. Brother?! I was inconsolable. Boy?! Where's my sister? Where's my girl?! I was now outnumbered two to one. Seth was, needless to say, overjoyed.
A boy was born. My mom named him Travis. I never did get my trip to the Bahamas.
Travis became all our baby. A loveable chubb of a baby with an easy grin, curly locks of brown hair, a little red nose and big hazel eyes full of mischief. Today, that baby turns 26.
Very happy birthday wishes to my youngest brother, Travis. Our baby of the family is good and grown. I wish you a day full of special celebration - and hopefully a Sabres victory to top off your big day.
Now, could you talk to Mom about that trip to the Bahamas she still owes me?
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
A Sign of Spring
I was up and out of bed before the boys this morning, a rarity in our house in which I have a well deserved reputation as a anti-morning person.
As I sipped my coffee in the kitchen, I heard the soft sound of chirping outside. I was convinced I was hearing things and walked to the windows leading to the backyard to listen closely. The birds were, indeed chirping. Spring may very well have arrived in our frozen neck of the woods.
I went upstairs to wake the boys. After I wrangled them all downstairs, I slid open the back door so we could all listen and watch. Aidan, Brennan, Griffin and I stood in our pjs with the door open wide and just enjoyed the first warmth of spring. The birds whistled and flew. The grass peeked through melting snow. Aidan even pointed out the buds growing on tree branches.
It will probably snow tomorrow, but for a moment this morning, we all really believed spring was here.
As I sipped my coffee in the kitchen, I heard the soft sound of chirping outside. I was convinced I was hearing things and walked to the windows leading to the backyard to listen closely. The birds were, indeed chirping. Spring may very well have arrived in our frozen neck of the woods.
I went upstairs to wake the boys. After I wrangled them all downstairs, I slid open the back door so we could all listen and watch. Aidan, Brennan, Griffin and I stood in our pjs with the door open wide and just enjoyed the first warmth of spring. The birds whistled and flew. The grass peeked through melting snow. Aidan even pointed out the buds growing on tree branches.
It will probably snow tomorrow, but for a moment this morning, we all really believed spring was here.
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