October 9, 2008
by heather
1 Comment

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.

September 25, 2008
by heather
0 comments

Play Date at the O.K. Corral

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.”

September 8, 2008
by heather
0 comments

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.

September 2, 2008
by heather
2 Comments

Palin’s Choice, Mommy Consequences

Upon hearing of John McCain’s veep pick, Alaska Governor Sarah Palin, I thought, hmmmmm, he chose a woman (I predicted he’d make such a move to my husband a week ago.) Then I heard she has five children. Double hmmmmm. Raised in a family of five children by a mother who ran the PTA, then founded and ran a small business with my Dad, I was impressed, shall we say, that Palin would enter such a campaign and potential position. There weren’t enough hours in the day for my mother to run her business and family and worry about both. She is an exceptional leader and organized and efficient manager by nature. Heck, she could have run for office. But when discussing Palin’s candidacy she said to me, “Whenever someone came knocking for me to run for a local office, I didn’t see how I could do it with all of you. I didn’t want to take that on.” Thanks, Mom.

Then, I learned that Palin’s 5th child is four months old. Four months old!!! I was still postpartum four months after delivering each child. So kudos to Palin for having her hormones in check enough to coolly deliver a speech at the press conference. But how good can it be for an infant to be carted around to campaign events?

When my own son was four months old, I was heartbroken to return to work part-time. And I rushed home to spend every extra moment with him. Now, I’m all for mothers working full-time or running a business or whatever. (I actually launched a magazine on the side, so to speak, after returning to work part-time. It helped that Son went to sleep at 6 pm each evening.) But choosing to have a big family demands a certain attention to said family that the campaign trail can only prevent.

Then I learned that Palin’s infant son has Down’s Syndrome. And now I think she’s just plain irresponsible. Equal rights or not, at some point a mother needs to make a choice to care for her child. Period. Equal rights in the workplace don’t eliminate the need to make smart choices. Especially when you have the financial ability to choose your work.

And choosing to have a child with special needs is a choice that demands some follow through. It’s one thing to put your pro-life beliefs into practice. It’s another to “choose life” then choose a candidacy that will most likely leave your special needs infant son in the arms of another. Yes, the beauty of our country is that Palin’s choice is hers to make. It just wouldn’t be mine.

August 27, 2008
by heather
0 comments

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.’

August 21, 2008
by heather
0 comments

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.

August 16, 2008
by heather
0 comments

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???

August 10, 2008
by heather
1 Comment

Parents’ Getaway

Last weekend, Husband and I went away without the kids for the first time since Son was born 4 1/2 years ago. It was divine. Napping, bicycling, and dining without a care about racing home to relieve the babysitter. Husband’s Mother flew up from Florida to take care of Son and Daughter. Our trip was long overdue but let’s face it – it’s hard to leave your kids and often harder to fine someone you trust to care for them. We’re lucky that Grandma is willing and able to care for her grandkids (for four days! – Okay, it was a long weekend away.) The kids were happy. We were happy.

The truth is:

1. It’s easier to leave the kids for a day or more when they’re older than infants and you have more than one. You don’t spend the entire weekend worrying and feeling guilty (although we couldn’t escape discussing them quite a bit).

2. It’s good to have enough time and space to look at your family and home from a broader view and do some long range planning.

With children under five around the house, we’re so busy simply getting through each day, there’s rarely time for bigger discussions. A weekend away restored our balance. I hope you have the opportunity to get away soon, too.

July 28, 2008
by heather
0 comments

Great Summer Books for Preschoolers

When I was young, I loved it when my Mom dropped me off at the library and I could pick out great summer books to read. My kids can’t read yet but I’m loving a few books that I’m reading to them at night.

Rattletrap Car
June, Jakie, Papa and Baby try to make it to the lake in their rattletrap car. They depend on a few toys and marshmallow chocolate fudge delight to get them there. It’s a perfect read for a hot, hot day with wonderful pictures and rhymes.

A House for Hermit Crab
We got a paperback version of this great tale as a favor after a maritime birthday party (isn’t that a great idea?). Hermit crab finds various items from the sea to decorate his shell. It’s educational and has a great message about making a change just after we’ve gotten settled in. It also makes our search for hermit crabs at the beach even more fun.

Philippe in Monet’s Garden
Daughter’s cousins gave her this for her second birthday. I’m currently reading it to 4-year old son since it’s a bit more his speed. It’s a fun, quirky frog adventure with a little Impressionism thrown in. Published by Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts.

More Books
My friend Liz, who is a middle school librarian, just launched a great new site recommending books for children of all ages. She covers many age groups and posts valuable comments about each book. Check it out Bibliotechies at http://www.bibliotechies.com/.

Happy Reading!

July 21, 2008
by heather
0 comments

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.