Summer in Retrospect

Summer is officially finished. No more long, lazy days spent chilling out and relaxing ("chillaxing" as my son now says). Having spent a well-planned morning to make the bus on time, schedules have already taken over. It's not all bad. There's Cub Scouts to look forward to (if I can convince him to do it), Halloween, Christmas vacation...

Aw, who am I kidding? I miss him already! Good thing I have my baby at home.

Anyway, here's where we stand, the summer in retrospect:

# of ears of corn growing in the garden: 4

# of sunflowers blooming: 5

# of weeks we washed the car as per my plan to wash the car every week: 1

# of times we tie-dyed as per my plan to introduce my son to the joys of tie-dyeing: 0

# of weeks we had to make an extra trip to the grocery store because we just can't keep food in this house with two growing boys: 11

# of movies seen at the drive-in: 1

# parties attended: 4

# of times I forgot what day it was: 4 or 5 - I actually can't remember.

We did it!

Collapse and Recovery

I don't know how other parents deal with prolonged sleep deprivation. I generally do this: Go, go, go as much as possible, powering through the low energy moments to clean up the house, get to events, see friends, etc. Then, I collapse dramatically, feeling so sick I have to cancel plans at the last minute and clear my schedule completely for more than a week. I thank God for the technical gadgets available to entertain my older son, and focus entire days on the moments when I can close my eyes.

After recovering, I begin scouring the Internet for things to do, places to go, ramping up for another few weeks of powering through. Technical gadgets morph from angelic saviors to evil tools I have to ban and limit, lest they steal my son's brain or turn it to mush.

Having once again reached the recovery stage of one of those cycles, I have learned a few things:

Apparently, I'm not one to pace myself. I thought I was pretty good about this, and maybe I am in my own personal life. But when managing other lives (ie. those of my kids), I'm not pacing myself enough. And I have to be better about it. Thus, the schedule I created today that includes rest time for me.

When it comes to technical gadgets, they're not disproportionately bad (as the American Association of Pediatrics would have you believe, with its unreasonable recommendations for limiting screen time). They're not entirely good either (as I believe when I'm excessively tired). It's all about perspective and balance. Even if the AAP has a point, I have to think that if allowing kids extra screen time actually saves the life of the parent taking care of those kids, then there has to be some wiggle room on this issue.

With these lessons on mind, we begin the last two weeks of summer before school starts.

What I Should Be Doing vs. What I'm Actually Doing

The time is 9 a.m. The baby is napping. I have one hour till I have to leave the house with both kids and lunches packed - plus all the various other things we need for the day (diapers, wipes, extra clothes, etc.). And what am I doing?

Researching meat.

Turns out, Applegate is pretty dedicated to the whole raising farm animals humanely thing. As for Coleman Natural... I think they're doing it. The website isn't actually so clear. And then there's the link to Perdue mentioned on the site... Are they owned by Perdue or something??

This project came about as a result of the online grocery shopping I've been doing since my son was born. Online shopping works for me not only because I don't have to schlep the kids, but also because in the end, the groceries are delivered to me at my house. Amazing.

If this were really the 1970s, no doubt I'd be schlepping all kinds of highly processed, stressed out meat from store to home (by "stressed out meat" I mean the factory farmed chicken, not me in a sorry state after all that work). So are modern times really better? 

I'm happy for the delivery and the humanely raised foods. But I'm definitely running late due to the same time suck that tempts my son, the one I'm supposed to be monitoring as a parent: screens. 

It's 9:17. I've got to go.

And Now It Really Is the 1970s at My House

From what I remember of the '70s, there were certain appliances and gadgets that everyone just didn't have back then. A VCR, for example - or rather, a Betamax. If you missed a T.V. show, you would try to catch a rerun, but might very well never see it at all. An answering machine is another example. If your friend wasn't home, the phone rang and rang (around 25 times, as I recall) and eventually cut you off. And alas, a dishwasher is my third example. If you had a sink full of dishes, you pulled on the rubber gloves and washed them with soap and a sponge.

Which is what I'm doing today, since this particular appliance quit on me yesterday.

I'm not actually sure we didn't have a dishwasher in the '70s... Am I thinking of the '50s (which, of course I can only imagine)? In any case, I do feel I'm learning some throwback lessons today.

1. Washing dishes can be relaxing and therapeutic. There's something rewarding about turning a sink full of dirty dishes into a counter-top overflowing with clean dishes. 

2. There's something pleasant and connecting about drying a freshly hand-washed dish that once belonged to my grandmother, who also raised two boys.

3. When you have two little boys, there's really no such thing as turning an entire sink full of dirty dishes into clean dishes. The boys never stop eating and - I'm now noticing - creating more and more dirty dishes. My sink is not large enough to accommodate them all at any given time. (And the time right now is only 8:30 in the morning.)

4. Washing dishes can be a real pain in the neck. Literally and figuratively. I'm even annoying myself. Why did I just throw that plate in the dirty water when I could have used it again?? And why are we still out of forks when it feels like I've been slaving over this sink for hours??

5. I'm a genius. I just remembered we have a pile of paper plates and box of plastic utensils left over from a recent party. They're coming out today.

A Summer Quiz

On the last day of school, your kindergartener comes home with a packet entitled, "Summer Practice." This thick stack of papers remains in his backpack, where you leave it when you go searching for the "important" stuff (his report card, teacher assignment and school supplies list for next year, etc.). Halfway through the summer, in a fit of organization, you decide to empty the backpack and you rediscover the packet. You place it on your desk near your computer, thinking vaguely that you'll make sure he gets to it later. You then:

a. get him working on it right away rather than waiting.

b. set a schedule for him to complete the packet.

c. ask your mom what to do.

The answer for me: c. Here's why...

Try as I might, I just can't imagine making my son work on this packet of math and reading dittos during summer vacation. Because working on math and reading dittos is not a vacation. It's school! So what I really asked my mom was the question I thought I knew the answer to: Did I work on "Summer Practice" during my summer vacations as a kid in the '70s?

The answer, as I guessed, was no. Knowing that (and I should admit, knowing my son is actually doing fine academically), I just can't make him do it.

A Guide to Selling Home-Grown Vegetables

1. Have brainstorm while listening to son enumerate the many toys he wishes to purchase. I know - this kid needs a job! We could plant a garden and sell the vegetables!

2. Congratulate self on brilliance of this plan. My six-year-old will see food he's planted growing from the earth! He'll learn how hard it is to earn money! What a wonderful mother I am to dream up this healthy lesson!

3. Email manager of local farmer's market expressing interest in getting in.

4. Panic when manager emails back requesting photos. Think to yourself, "Of what?"

5. Hit garden center with your son for seed packets. Learn early July is kind of late to start a garden.

6. Realize you do not know how to build a raised bed and you're too weak to dig dirt from the ground to fill it.

7. Request husband's assistance.

8. Supervise kids outside while husband works on garden.

9. Interrupt husband several times to request that he supervise the kids while you run inside to:
               
                start egg for older son's lunch.
                get sheet to shade baby.
                check egg to see if water is boiling.
                make quick bottle.
                place egg in cool water so you can peel it.
                pee.

10. Read seed packets and realize you do not understand the word "germinate."

11. Consider looking up "germinate" and other gardening information on Internet.

12. Start planting seeds instead. Read aloud that sunflower seeds should be 18 inches apart. Don't believe it.

13. Toss all seeds in haphazard lines and cover with dirt. Hope gardening can't possibly be an exact science.

14. Allow son to water new garden and see that he has created a large flood, exposing several seeds.

15. Panic and declare with false authority that too much water is "bad for the garden." Then wonder aloud if that's true, since rain probably floods gardens all the time.

16. Hope for the best. Imagine yourself and your son selling vegetables at farmer's market. But don't dare answer that email.

Things That May Happen If You Turn Off Your Cell Phone For Several Hours

1. You will miss a million calls from telemarketers.

2. Your baby will take an extended morning nap.

3. You will magically find the time to clean up the breezeway, packed with items that did not sell at your garage sale weeks ago.

4. You will be energized by your success in the breezeway and decide to bring both kids out the store and to a garage sale.

5. You will miss several calls from your husband.

6. You also will miss several text messages from your husband.

7. And you won't see that you have voicemail.

8. You will watch a little T.V. during your baby's second nap, blissfully unaware that anyone important is trying to reach you.

9. You will feel relaxed and - not remembering your phone is off - you will wonder why.

10. Minutes before your husband arrives home, you will check your phone and see that you have voicemail. And texts.

11. You will feel badly that you did not get back to your husband, a bike commuter, who only wanted to meet for ice cream rather than riding home.

12. You will kiss your husband as he walks in the door.

13. You will go out for ice cream anyway.

Disasters Averted Yesterday

Disaster #1: No plan for the day, yet we have to get out of the house. (My husband wants to get projects done - and I fully support this.)
Solution:  Hijack the old kindergarten email list and invite everyone from my son's class to the park. Receive four responses, including one yes.

Disaster #2: While waiting at the park, we get a phone call. The above mentioned "yes" becomes a "no." The new friend my son just made leaves. Fifteen minutes into our excursion, he is dangerously close to announcing that this is "the worst day ever."

Solution: Wait out the lull in the kid crowd (It's a beautiful day - why is no one here??) with a short walk through the woods. Pray for kids to arrive while walking back. Spot one kid my son's age. Spend the next 30 minutes helping them bond. Success!

Disaster #3: After a long car ride to run an errand, older son, baby and I stop at a coffee shop to relax and regroup. Trunk will not open. Stroller is inside. I have to pee.

Solution: Kick car, impressing son by demonstrating my ability to make it shake. Swear a few fake swear words ("crud," "freakin'"). Drag stroller out of trunk over back seat, carefully keeping wheels from slamming into baby's face.

Disaster #4: Baby is screaming his head off in the coffee shop. I know the girl who works here is annoyed. We are not finished, but should probably find an outdoor seating area. It will take several trips to move the stroller, two cups of milk, a cup of water, and a plate of food.

Solution: Stay put. I am out of patience and too tired to move. My baby has every right to be here, and that worker girl was super-surly when she waited on us. This is her freakin' punishment.

Disaster #5: Still at the coffee shop, I encourage my son to try another bite of the hummus he claims to have "sort of" liked. He begins gagging as if he may throw up. 

Solution: Consider directing him to turn toward the bin, but realize it is full of recyclables. Marvel inwardly that the very same hummus has transformed screaming baby into cooing cutie-pie. Do nothing and hope the gagging will not escalate and will simply pass.

It does.

Rain, Rain Go Away

No, no, no, no, no! It's raining! And we were going to go to the sprinkler park and now - it's raining!

Yes, there is whining and complaining in my house right now. (It's not only coming from me.)

I've searched all the library websites, the event websites, the free stuff to do with kids websites. Lots going on tomorrow. But today, we're stuck.

OK, I've got to pull it together. The baby will be waking up soon and I've got to have a plan.

This is what happens when you opt for a summer with a lot of free time. You sometimes wind up with a whole big empty day to fill.

And there's the crying. On the baby monitor that is. It's not just me.

How to Have a Successful Garage Sale

Was anybody rich in the 1970s? Of course someone must have been. But to me, the '70s are all about being scrappy, making do. Moms sewing rick-rack on the bottoms of their kids' pants so they'll last another season. Dads instructing kids to roll up the tube of toothpaste so they can squeeze out the last few dollops.

I guess this is why it seemed so '70s to have a garage sale this weekend, even though they've never really gone out of style.

I thought a garage sale would be a festive event to kick off the summer. I also thought we might rake in some decent extra cash, provided we sold a few big-ticket items along with the requisite mugs, used beauty products, old shoes, and holiday decorations.

The truth about garage sales: Mugs and skis never sell. Used beauty products do. You're likely to earn about 10 cents an hour if you figure in all the time it takes to gather your junk from the attic and basement, price everything, set it up outside, post signs around town, post an ad online, man the whole operation, tear everything down, remove the signage, and haul the unsold items to whatever charity will take it off your hands.

Who are these people who make hundreds of dollars at garage sales? What are they selling? The most I've ever made at a garage sale was about $100, and 70 percent of the take came from one large item.

Paltry earnings aside, however, the day was a huge success. It was a morning-to-night bonding adventure with our neighbors. It was kids manning their own lemonade stand - a cardboard box with a hand-written sign. It was a whole hot day outside, laughing, talking, sweating, snacking, and bargaining. 

Every time I have a garage sale, I swear it'll be the last time. We never make any real money. It's just not worth the work and aggravation.

Except it is. I'm definitely doing this again next year.

Sweet Stuff and the Ever-Enjoyable Sticky Hand

I can't say I've been totally relaxed today. But some sweet stuff happened that made me smile:

Walking down the street to post signs for our garage sale, we spotted neighbors outside. My son wound up playing with them and I got to talk. Just a nice, spontaneous moment.

While putting laundry away, my six-year-old (who was helping!) got distracted by a toy in his bedroom. He sat on the floor next to his baby brother (who was paging through a book with a serious look on his face) and the two of them sat quietly and companionably for a few minutes.

Everyone had fruit at lunch, counteracting - in my mind at least - the effects of any Cheetos ingested earlier in the day. Plus the baby fed himself his turkey sandwich, pickle, and grapes (mastering the pincer grasp and such healthy eating!).

After lunch, my son got really into playing with his sticky hand, a toy that just never fails to crack me up.

Rules for Summer

It's the first day of summer, a time of total freedom, and here's me, spewing out rules fast and furious...

No one is up for the day before 5 a.m., and that includes the youngest member of the family who obviously can't tell time.

No Monkey Quest - or video games of any kind - before 8 a.m.

No Cheetos for breakfast.

Cheetos only once a week (later in the day) because they are a total junkfood, unlike Cheez-Its, the former favorite, which are somehow a nutritious dairy product now in comparison.

Ah, the lazy days of summer...

Still Recovering from Monday's Field Trip

My in-laws tell a story about a couple they knew who would commit to only one activity per weekend. They invited this couple to dinner, I think it was, and the man said he was sorry, but on Saturday, they were going to the store to buy gloves. 

When we in the family hear this story, we usually laugh appreciatively. In the manner of slow-paced, simpler living, this couple had it right. With that in mind, I bring you the schedule for my son's field trip at which I was a chaperone.

9 a.m. 
Board buses

10 a.m. 
Arrive at destination and have snack

10:15-10:45 a.m. 
Learn about animals

10:45-11:15 a.m. 
Go on a nature walk

11:15-11:45 
Fish for creatures in a pond

12 p.m. 
Board buses to the park for lunch, playground time, and a party for our retiring school principal

1:30 p.m.
Board buses to school for student's birthday party followed by a movie

2:40 p.m.
Students can wait for the bus or be picked up to go home.

Now, how many separate activities was that in one half of a day?

7 Days till Summer

Yesterday, my son said to me, "Mom, what do we have planned for the summer?"

Our 70s summer of no-plans-no-nothing-nothingness starts in seven days.

"Well, hmmm" I answered nervously. "We don't have a lot going on..." Was he suddenly expecting a highly scheduled summer? Was he hoping I'd signed him up for camp or a fun class without his knowledge?

"Oh, good," he said. "So we're not doing anything?"

"That's right, a whole bunch of nothing," I agreed, relieved.

And our 70s summer is still on.

Alert the Media: Baby Sleeps Through Night!

MEDIA ALERT

For immediate release

June 14, 2013 - After a year of night wakings, the Schwartz baby has finally slept through the night.

His mother - who the night before last was woken for the day at 3 a.m. - was ecstatic and slightly delirious. "What is this strange feeling?" she asked. "I think I feel... rested?"

His father, still sleeping, was unavailable for comment.

For the past 12 months, Baby Schwartz has been up several times each night, usually taking three to four bottles between 8:30 p.m. and 5 a.m. His mother spent the year reading up on many different methods designed to increase baby sleep duration, including the Ferber method (controlled "crying it out") and the No-Cry Sleep Solution. 

In her quest to answer the question of "why" he was waking so often, she experimented with giving baby less formula during the night, giving baby more formula during the night, using a sound machine, changing the sound from "white noise" to "car motor" to "babbling brook," putting baby to bed later, putting baby to bed earlier, keeping baby up during the day, making sure baby has several naps during the day, and driving him around in the car before bed.

Sleep deprived and unable to think clearly, she could not use her findings to answer the question until now.

"I've finally figured out why he was having so much trouble sleeping through the night," she said. "He's a baby!"

Losing Faith in Doctors

I want to trust in my pediatrician, I really do. Obviously, this man went to medical school and knows a lot more than me about medicine, the body, human development, etc. But... 

When my older son was born six years ago, my husband and I were beyond super-careful. We checked out everything. We made sure he had a sleep positioner, so he wouldn't roll over and become trapped and suffocate. We outfitted his crib with the requisite crib bumper. When he was a year old, we started him on whole milk, as instructed. The whole fat was so important for his brain development, we were told.

And then... we had our younger son. Five years later. As anyone who's had children a few years apart can attest, things change quickly in the pediatric medical field. Suddenly, it's as if we did everything wrong the first time around.

I accepted this when we learned that our new baby should not have a sleep positioner (It could actually trap and suffocate him!). Or a crib bumper (Waaay too dangerous! He may as well sleep with knives!). But now, whole milk is suddenly unnecessary and could even lead to childhood obesity!

I heard that one and the brakes in my brain screeched to a halt. I just couldn't go along with the program anymore. I stopped listening. I stopped following along. I realized, sadly, that medical care is completely subject to trends. 

Personally, I'm OK with trusting my instincts about a lot of this stuff. In five years, the doctors will reverse their instructions anyway. But I wish there were an authority I could totally trust. 

Maybe everyone wishes that at some point - and not just about doctors and medical care. Maybe everyone wishes someone with all the right answers would appear and give them up. But that's parenting and that's life. You don't always know the right answers and you can't always be sure of your decisions. You just do the best that you can.

 

I'm Watching "Barney"

Yes, that's right. I'm watching "Barney." My older son's in the other room playing with Legos. My younger one's taking a nap. So this is all on me.

But there's a good reason for my childish choice in television programming. I've learned a valuable lesson over the past year. If you put on the news, you will hear about the shootings in Newtown. You will hear about the bombing at the Boston Marathon. You will hear the news, yes, but it's so depressing, so all-consuming, that sometimes you'd just rather not know.

To be perfectly clear, I'd rather not know.

So I put on PBS Kids during the day whether the kids are watching or not. I like the cheerful little songs about sharing and cleaning up and being kind to one another. And if I'm in a good mood - feeling happy and safe in the world, not panicking over all the terrible things happening in remote locations around the globe - I'm definitely a better mom. It's as simple as that.

P.S. If you're wondering why I don't put on some quality adult music during the day, check out the prologue to this show on "This American Life" about a kindred spirit who understands why T.V. is so comforting.

The Story of a Popsicle

Once upon a time a little boy found an enticing-looking popsicle-making kit languishing on a shelf in the basement.

"Look at that kit! Let's make popsicles!" he suggested.

His mother, busy gleefully cleaning the basement and tossing unused items into a bin for a future garage sale, was distracted. She only heard the word "kit" and remembered that it hadn't been touched in years.

"Garage sale," she thought, reaching for the item.

But her son kept going. "I had these at my friend's house. We could make our own! This'll be awesome!" And the mother realized the last time she'd used the kit, he'd been only one. It didn't seem fair to get rid of it when he'd never had a chance to enjoy it.

"OK," she relented, tearing herself away from the satisfying task of getting rid of things. "Let me clean it first."

The mother then learned the importance of putting kitchen items away clean. The popsicle-making kit had last been used about five years prior. And the sticky remains of those long-gone popsicles still, unfortunately, remained in and around the plastic molds. Which could not be removed from their places in a metal tray.

"Garage sale," the mother thought again, running the molds under hot water and trying to clean them without the advantage of being able to reach the soiled areas with a sponge. She imagined telling her son the molds couldn't be cleaned. She imagined him wandering away to play with something that didn't involve her at all. She remembered when he always wanted to cook and bake with her and how he wasn't so into those activities anymore.

She persisted.

After 45 minutes under hot water, the molds were miraculously clean. Mother and son stirred blue food coloring into vanilla ice cream. Mother filled the molds. Son put the sticks in. They cleared out room in the freezer and placed the molds on a shelf. 

"When will they be done?" the son asked.

"About two hours," the mother replied. "And then we'll add the next layer of color."

The rest of the day passed sweetly. Mother, son, and baby went outside. They played together in the yard, took a walk, and visited a neighbor. The popsicles were forgotten. Then they weren't.

"Can we add the next layer?" the son finally reminded his mother. 

This time, red food coloring was added to vanilla ice cream. The molds were filled. The popsicle sticks were coated with pink ice cream, but that was OK, the mother told the son. "We can just wipe them off when they're done," she said.

The next morning, mother and son peeked in at the popsicles. They were beautiful. The blue and pink ice cream looked good enough to eat. 

"When can I?" the son asked, eagerly.

"After school," the mother replied, feeling just as excited.

They'd put in the work. They'd put in the time. And when they were done, they got so much more than this delicious, melty mess:

The End!

Food for Thought

This might sound obvious, but a chicken patty described as "a round, flat, humongous chicken nugget" will satisfy picky eaters who prefer nuggets over every other type of food except chocolate. (It may not seem much better, but there are really good natural, free-range, etc. kinds out there. Like this - yumalicious!) 

Maybe others have figured this out already, but it took me about, oh... two years? So I just thought I'd share. It's nice to have options.

Freedom!

Ah, the freedom of abandoning a plan! I've decided not to go to the mall, which means:

• no packing up a diaper bag.

• no driving while tired.

• no hassling with my son to get him into another outfit.

• no rushing out the door to get there in a timely fashion.

• no bargaining for time in "my" stores.

• no spending money I don't have.

• no worrying about the fussy baby getting even more fussy in a public place.

So many things I don't have to do today, but I do have to pay the price of not getting to see my mom, who we were planning to meet. The fact is, I'm just plan too tired. This is why a '70s summer is so appealing to me. It's supposed to be relaxing, flexible. You just can't do everything you want to do even if there are a million fun things begging you to take part. Who has that kind of energy?

Of course, tomorrow's another story. I've happily rescheduled and we're going to the mall!

It's Going to Rain Today

Maybe. Which is actually the worst kind of forecast. You can't plan an outdoor activity with any confidence. But the minute you commit to spending the day indoors, you just know the sun will come out.

Anyway my plan is to try and get the kids' picture taken at the mall. (Free and cheap attractions there include a pet store with snakes, a glass elevator, a soft pretzel place, a fountain, a kids' play area, and some little rides - not to mention the stores for me!) I picked out some cute outfits for the boys and threw them in the dryer with a wet towel to dewrinkle. (Works great!) The baby is wearing his now.

My older son? He opted for wrinkled shorts from his drawer - "These are better, because they don't have buttons!" - and a tie-dyed T-shirt. 

• Will I be able to talk him into wearing the more portrait-friendly outfit after school?

• Will the baby's face remain free of the mysterious red bumps he had earlier in the week?

• Will I be up for the trip by this afternoon when I'm already feeling like it's nap time at 9:30 in the morning?

Tune in later to find out!

Playground Test Run/Wardrobe Malfunction

Took the boys to the playground today for the first time since the baby started crawling. Wasn't sure how that would work out. Here's what I learned:

1. My older son is pretty much self-sufficient provided we meet a friend there (which we did).

2. Baby is happy in his ride-on car, so it was worth lugging that along instead of the stroller.

3. Baby also likes the swing and will fall asleep in it.

4. The swing is in the blazing hot sun - I must bring a hat for him next time.

And last but not least...

5. My yellow tank top is totally see-through, a fact I unfortunately did not glean until AFTER I'd stripped off my outer layers and spent an hour and a half on the playground. Worried the whole time that my post-baby belly might look pudgy (it didn't), while the real concern was whether my bra was completely exposed (it was).

Camp Songs

My son may not be going to camp this summer, but that doesn't mean we can't sing camp songs! So far, his favorite is "Comet," which I actually didn't realize kids sang at camp (we just sang it in the neighborhood). In case it's not included in the songbook, here are the words:

Comet! It makes your mouth turn green.
Comet! It tastes like gasoline.
Comet! It makes you vomit.
So drink some Comet
And vomit
Today!

Had to be sure to explain that you should actually never try and drink Comet, which led to a short-but-meaningful discussion on people trying dog food. Which probably also would make you vomit.

A Little Background

Looking for ideas for our '70s summer (and also for ways to waste time on the Internet - not that there's any shortage of time-wasters there), I found this article in Ms. Magazine called "10 Things That American Women Could Not Do Before the 1970s."

It's not exactly what I was after, not really about things to do with your kids. But it's a bit of useful history, I suppose. Most of it I'd heard before, so for me the most shocking item is the one about credit cards.

Which one shocks you??