1) Terrible Twos?  More like Terrible-with-the-occasional-hilarious-incident-that-makes-it-all-worth-it twos!  Picture this.  Two inexperienced parents take their strong-willed toddler (coincidentally named Charlie) to the grocery store on a Sunday morning.  The mistake they make is failing to release the child into the wilds of the local playground for an hour or so before trying to shove him into a shopping cart to roll around Wegman’s.  What results is a meltdown of epic proportions.  The well-meaning father takes Charlie outside to the parking lot to continue with the flailing and screaming while the mother finishes the shopping trip.  Once everyone reunites outside, the parents struggle to force a ballistic little ball of crazy into the car seat. In the midst of the battle, the mother and father catch each other’s eyes from across the back seat of the family SUV and they stop – to laugh hysterically.  The parents understand that it might not be so funny if it happened again, so this weekend – no playground, no Costco.

2) Take me to your leader – when your schedule allows.  Have you heard of the term “The Cult of Busy?”  It is used to describe the growing number of people who always seem to be dashing from one thing to another. You know, the folks who take a week to return an email and the first line of their reply is always, “I’m so sorry – I’ve just been so swamped!”  They are constantly talking about how tired/overworked/crazed they are. The use of the term implies that a person possesses an overinflated sense of importance.  It also indicates that the person using the term is about as annoying as those people who brag about how they don’t own a television.  If there is a “Cult of Busy,” there is an equally ridiculous “Cult of I’ve Simplified My Life So Much Better Than You Have and It Means I’m Smarter Than You.”

If there is truly a “Cult of Busy” than I am officially declaring myself its esteemed leader.  Because you know what?  I really am freakin’ busy.

Other cult members may feel the need exhaustively list all the things that classify them as members of the cult, but as the new leader, I am officially declaring that all busy people need not ever justify themselves again.  I am a mother, I am a wife, I have a job that is also a career, and I like to do lots of different things.  Therefore, I am busy.  Unashamedly.  So get back to watching that Netflixed season of Shameless on your iPad while talking about how stupid it is to own a television, and feel good about your leisurely lifestyle, because I have things to do.  And I’m proud of it.

3) I have one message for young college graduates and job seekers – Most job applications (even in the elite corporate world) are done electronically, these days.  If your dream job requires you to fill out an online application and it gives you the opportunity to upload a cover letter and resume, make sure you upload both. I’ve hired people with typos in their resumes.  I’ve hired people who didn’t wear a suit to the interview.  I’ve even hired people who talked with their mouths full during an interview lunch.  But I have never hired someone who didn’t think it was important enough to write me a cover letter.  It is your job to tell me how the experience listed in bullet points on your resume translates into the perfect experience for a job, not the other way around.  And you better tailor that letter for my job, and for me.  If I see “Dear Sir or Madam,”  you are dead in the water.  This is the internet.  Figure out who your boss might be – even if you take an educated guess, I’ll give that more credit than “Sir or Madam.”  And try to wear a suit, k?

4) If you don’t watch the television show Scandal, you need to do a Netflix catchup and then join the rest of us.  Olivia Pope is one of the most complex female characters to hit the airwaves in a while.  Is the show a 100% realistic portrayal of life in our nation’s capital? No.  But she’s sleeping with the President, for goodness sake.  Isn’t that enough?!?!

5) Read this.

Enjoy your day and remember: stay busy!  Or don’t.  That’s cool, too.

In early April we traveled to Italy for a week-long vacation with our family and my husband’s parents. We spent an uneventful night in Lucerne, Switzerland and one in Florence, Italy before heading to Rome. We were staying in Rome for three nights so, instead of hotel rooms we booked a two-bedroom apartment in the heart of Rome that would accommodate our entire family.

As soon as we arrived, I noticed the apartment was NOT kid-friendly or baby-proofed at all. I didn’t expect to find an apartment with covered outlets and a lack of breakable items, but I was definitely surprised by the shear volume of breakable things. There were knick knacks and tchotchkes everywhere. (Think large vases on the floor, shelves of ceramics and unsecured electronics.)

We had a great view, but there was some major foreshadowing when I captioned this photo on Instagram.

Truthfully, I was worried that one of our kids may break something. I didn’t, for a second, consider what actually happened as a possibility.

Lesson Learned: Before reserving a privately-owned apartment, ask specifically about how kid-friendly the property is. 

When we were browsing apartments online I immediately ruled out some that were obviously not kid-friendly based on the photos, but to great extent we had no idea what we would get until we arrived. They knew we were a family with children, but next time we will be explicit in our need for a child and baby-friendly property.

While the adults (all four of us) were finishing breakfast, picking out clothes and planning the day’s events, the kids were hanging out and just… being kids. I wasn’t watching Max so I don’t know exactly what happened. (And, yes, it haunts me that I wasn’t watching Max and he got seriously hurt.) From what we can gather, he pulled himself up on / pulled down a light open planter shelf sort of thing in the kitchen that had multiple breakable ceramic planters and such on it.

I heard a horrible crash. I heard Max crying. I ran in, found him under the light shelf and surrounded by broken pots, plates and various small breakables. I scooped him up and tried to comfort him. And then I saw the blood. It took a minute to figure out where it was coming from and by that point everyone was gathered in the kitchen to check on Max. I realized the blood was coming from his finger, and the instant I saw it my heart sank. I knew it was badly hurt and that he’d need medical attention. I told my husband to call for help.

As my husband tried in vain to call an ambulance, I sat on the floor of the kitchen trying to comfort Max. I made the mistake of looking at his finger a second time and I lost any shred of remaining composure. I really tried to keep my cool so my other children wouldn’t freak out but I just couldn’t. I was growing more and more anxious by the moment as the severity of the situation set in with the realization that my child needed help and I had no idea how to get it for him. I kept screaming for my husband to dial 112 (Germany’s version of 911), but it wasn’t the emergency number in Italy.

Lesson Learned: When arriving in a new country, find emergency phone numbers and identify local hospitals.

Days later, when the madness had passed, we realized our travel book had emergency phone number information in it. It even mentioned some hospitals and how the local medical system worked. Admittedly, we usually flip right past those pages in the travel books, but from now on? We’ll highlight and circle the info. At a minimum, we will always know how to call for emergency medical help.

When my husband realized he couldn’t call for help, he left the apartment to look for aid on the street. Thankfully, he quickly encountered an incredibly kind man who offered to drive us to the hospital when my husband told him of our situation. We were so helpless and this man truly came to our rescue. He also served as a translator when we arrived at the children’s hospital. In another stroke of luck, we happened to be only minutes from the largest children’s hospital in Italy with a fabulous reputation.

We were rushed through the waiting room and into an ER room almost immediately. The gentleman who drove us wasn’t permitted to stay so we relied on lots of gestures to communicate with the hospital staff. We don’t speak Italian and they didn’t speak English. It’s simply not realistic for us to learn the language of every country we visit here in Europe, so I don’t think the language barrier portion of our predicament was avoidable. But, let me tell you, it sucked. No one at the hospital spoke English. It made a very scary situation even more uncomfortable and unsettling.

As we settled into the reality of our situation, we knew we needed to call our insurance company. Of course, we didn’t know the number. It’s on the card which I keep in my wallet, but I left our apartment with literally nothing but the clothes on my back so we didn’t have it. Truth be told, even if I had my wallet, I don’t think we would have been in the frame of mind to check for my insurance card.

Despite living in Europe, our cell phone plan makes using the internet or making phone calls very expensive when outside Germany. Obviously, though, we had to break our no data usage rule to google and find our insurance’s emergency phone number.

Lesson Learned: Program important insurance phone numbers into your phone.

It takes, literally, seconds to program the insurance emergency phone number. But, as we learned, the last thing you need in a highly-charged, stressful situation is confusion about what you’re supposed to do and who you’re supposed to call.

Our insurance company was amazingly helpful and supportive through the entire hospital stay in Rome, from the initial phone call through helping clear the finance department of the hospital for discharge. Shout out to Tricare Overseas for military families!

Max’s Surgeries

When we were in the ER, the pediatric plastic surgeon cleaned, evaluated and dressed Max’s finger. He told us very matter of factly that Max required two surgeries. In the first he attached Max’s middle finger to the palm of his hand. The point is to regenerate skin on the tip of his finger in an attempt to save some of the length of the finger that was, essentially, accidentally amputated. The second surgery, a few weeks later, separates the finger from the palm. (If you have a tough stomach and want to google for more info, the procedure is called a thenar flap. But, consider yourself warned: it’s totally gross.)

Max was insanely tough and brave and remained in good spirits throughout the entire ordeal. It was devastating for my husband and me, but our little man’s smile was incredibly reassuring. Kids are seriously so resilient. Beyond my wildest imagination. He was back to his smiling and giggling self the day after each surgery.

In Italy

The past few weeks were traumatic and difficult and stressful and sad. But, I am so thankful for many things along the way, like the man who took us to the hospital, the care Max received in Rome and, above all, that Max wasn’t hurt more seriously.

At this point we wait for his finger and the incision on his palm to heal. We don’t really know what to expect. We don’t know how much length he actually lost, if his fingernail will return or what his finger will look like as he grows. In the scheme of things, these are seriously minor concerns, and I know that. It just breaks my heart that, at only a little over a year, Max was broken so seriously and that it was avoidable. The guilt is a bit unbearable so I just focus on the fact that he is, and will be, just fine.

The last two times we ate there, however, we had some strange encounters – not with the employees, but with fellow diners.  One Sunday morning as we ate brunch, I noticed two women walk by our table and then stop to turn around and shake their heads in disapproval at Charlie.  He was quietly coloring and munching on pieces of pancake, so I was pretty positive his behavior wasn’t an issue.  In the end, the only thing I could imagine was that these ladies disapproved of a toddler being in a restaurant that was also a bar (even though the bar is in a completely separate room from the dining area).

The disdain was definitely made clearer with the second incident.  Charlie and I headed over for an early dinner one night when my husband was out of town.  It was a little before 6 pm and I knew we’d be done within the hour.  He quietly watched Elmo videos on my cell phone and dined on hummus and pita slices, plus a few of my french fries.  But I could see the woman at the table next to us pursing her lips, shaking her head, and sighing in our direction.  I did my best to keep our dinner short and make sure Charlie didn’t make too much noise.  As the woman and her friend got up to leave the friend turned to me and apologized for the cranky diner, saying “I’m sorry about my friend.  She doesn’t like children.”

Okay, I know I’m going to hear it for saying this, but who the heck just flat-out hates kids??  I just can’t understand why the mere presence of an innocent, well-behaved little person is such a big deal.  I feel compelled to mention that I am not demonizing those who choose not to have children of their own.  Heck, I wasn’t always 100% sure I wanted to be a parent.  But a persecution complex about one’s personal choices regarding parenthood does not entitle anyone to behave the simple existence of any child is a personal offense.

Perhaps upon entering an establishment, the baby haters of the world should inquire as to whether the place makes high chairs available to its patrons.  If the answer is yes, then by all means,  make a very huffy turn on the heel and do a self-righteous march back out the door.  This is a far better way of handling the situation than choosing to sit at a table next to a mother and child and purposely ruining their dinner.  Please note that I’m not advocating for the rights of every child to be in every restaurant – folks have a right to show a little disdain for the kid who is running wild around a restaurant and parents should know better than to ever have a kid in a bar/restaurant after a certain hour.  And obviously, your local $80/plate joint is probably never a good place to take your little angel.

If we want children to grow up into socially active, cultured, independent, self-aware human beings, I challenge the kid-haters of the world to come up with a way for that to happen without allowing children to be a part of our every-day society.  There is a world beyond our own backyards, and it’s not just Applebee’s and children’s menus.  Do children need to be in every nook and cranny of the grownup world?  Of course not.  But they should be able to visit places other than playgrounds when they leave their homes.  It can’t be good for society to keep children locked away until adulthood.  As a community, we should want children of the world, not children of the corn.

I am glad that our modern sensitivities make room for every definition of the word “family.”  A loving household does not have to be one where children reside.  But it’s a two-way street.  Social acceptance of remaining childless should not translate to an overall disdain for all kids everywhere.  So to all the puss-faced kid-haters that I’m sure we’ll encounter many times over, I say, “Would you please pass my son the hummus?  He’ll serve himself, thanks.”

Four birthday kiddos blowing out their candles.

I wrote you a letter at six months and one at a year, so I wanted to continue the tradition because now my darling, you are TWO.  You are a walking, talking, running, jumping, laughing two year old whose smile is just whoa.  This past weekend we celebrated  your birthday with a party, but this party was so special that I wanted to dedicate this letter to remembering one of your best days ever.  You see, this was a special party because it wasn’t just yours.  You shared the day with your good friends Luke, Audrey, and Helen, who all had birthdays in April, too.  So many of your school friends have birthdays between the months of March and May that we decided to give everyone’s schedules a break (and save some dough) by having one big bash for four of you.  It also helps that the six parents that planned this party like hanging out together without you kids, too!

Legos, legos, legos! Cookies, pinata, and cakes.

The first step was to come up with a theme that would work for a couple two year old boys and a pair of three-year old twin girls.  Legos (well at this age it’s mostly Duplos, but close enough) seemed to be a common love among all of you, so we went with it.  Or should I say, the twins’ mom went with it…she’s a crafty dynamo and quickly went to work on Pinterest, finding all of the ideas necessary to make this theme come to life.  I took charge of getting a space for the party that would fit all of your little friends plus their parents and our family members.  We ended up with a place that was familiar to all of us – the space that houses a neighborhood playgroup and parenting program.  We knew we wanted to keep things simple in terms of entertainment; every kid has a blast in this giant room chock full of toys which is overseen by Ms. Teri, a neighborhood treasure who infuses love into every corner of a well-worn space.

I found a lego-themed Evite, combined all of our guest lists, and got the invitations out to everyone.  We kept duties organized with a Google docs list of items that needed to be purchased and tasks that needed to be completed.  Luke’s grandmother made some delicious hot food to accompany the kid-friendly items that his parents provided.  The twins’ mommy baked some amazing lego cakes and cookies, and put together a really cool pull-tab Lego pinata that we stuffed with mini-bags of snacks and duplo blocks.  We all showed up on the morning of the party and decorated while the four of you happily played together and helped Ms. Teri feed the playspace rabbit and guinea pig. With the exception of two quick runs for boxes of joe and extra chafing dishes, we were fully prepared for the arrival of what was probably close to 70 people.  It was chaotic, but so much fun. And all four of you were clearly enjoying yourselves, which is really what mattered most.

Folks went home with full bellies and happy kiddos clutching lego-themed party favor boxes that held lego cookies, crayons, hand-assembled lego coloring books, and Lego Club Jr. magazines that I requested through the legendary Lego customer service site.  With four birthday kids who already have plenty of toys at home, we suggested that families make donations to the playgroup in lieu of giving all of you gifts, and the vast majority of the families happily complied.  I saw an encouraging number of $20 bills and checks in the donation jug at the end of the day. All of us agreed that your big, boisterous birthday jamboree was a rousing success.

And as you napped after a day of playing, birthday song singing, and cake-eating, I felt so happy that my big-personality, talking-a-mile-a-minute, soaking up the world like a sponge two-year-old got to be surrounded by so many people who care about him for his big day.  Happy 2nd Birthday, my little love.  I am continuously so grateful that I get to be the mommy that watches you grow.

Love,

Mommy

(A PS for my dear readers – I can’t stress enough what an amazing resource By My Side Parenting is to our neighborhood.  Their space is held together by a patchwork of energy and sheer willpower.  If you are interested in making a donation to keep a place like this going, please click here and accept my overwhelming thanks in advance.)

So I’m back on the road for my day job this week.  I’m in the quintessential (and cold) college town of Boston.  Lately, I’ve been noticing that when I travel and my conversations with new people turn to the subject of kids, I get the same series of questions.  So this week, I kept count.  Six people…yes, six…asked me the first question below.  Maybe it’s just me, but that blew my mind.  Here are the top three questions that I get about traveling for work and having a kid and how I’d love to answer them if it wouldn’t get me fired.

1.  But who is home with your son right now?

How I answer: Oh, he’s home with my husband.  They always have a good time when I’m away because it means many more meals of pizza and/or ice cream.

How I want to answer:  Dude, it’s the year 2013.  My kid is at home with his father who also (gasp!) washes dishes, does laundry, and even buys me tampons when he runs to Target. Are there really people out there who can’t fathom a dad spending more than 2 hours caring for his kid without any help?  Why is this even a question?

2.  It must be hard to be away from him all the time, right?

How I answer: Yeah, I miss him, but I also love coming home and seeing how excited he is to see me!

How I want to answer: Yes, and thanks for making feel worse about it.  Also, I’m not away from him all the time.  Do you ask this same question of fathers who travel for work, too?  My kid is a happy, social, and empathetic little guy who loves his mommy.  Clearly all of my travel has not damaged him too badly.  Not yet, at least. *dramatic eye roll*  And honestly, sometimes it’s nice to get a full night’s sleep in a quiet hotel room or have some time to just be by myself.  I’m sure it’s illegal in some mom code to actually say that out loud, but I guess I’m just a rebel like that.

3.  I’m sure he’s gets away with murder when you aren’t around, right?

How I answer: Oh, his dad is very good a towing the company line when it comes to discipline.

How I want to answer: Does getting some pizza and ice cream constitute “getting away with murder,” these days?  If so, then I was a serial killer as a kid.  C’mon!  What kind of damage can a two year old really do that would ever constitute “getting away with murder?”  I think what disturbs me most about the frequency of this question is that I must really present myself as a total tyrant for someone to think that my toddler waits for me to leave in order to really live it up.  I’m envisioning Charlie doing the Risky Business dance or pulling a Ferris Bueller and rolling around town in his friend’s dad’s sports car.  Again, did I mention he’s only two?

Has anyone asked you any of these questions when you were away from your kids for work?  What did you say?

So I’m coming out… as someone who used to be homophobic.

Believe it or not, there was a time when I thought that homosexuality was wrong.  I had long conversations with friends in my high school cafeteria about the Bible, and how it said that homosexuality is a sin, and how two people of the same sex being together was just gross.  When I remember those conversations, I cringe with embarrassment, but also with regret – I’m pretty sure that some of the people with whom I had these arguments are now openly gay, themselves.  These were my friends.  And I made them feel as if they couldn’t be their true selves in front of me.

My parents weren’t particularly anti-gay, but I’m sure they were hesitant to jump up in support.  And so, they let me go out into the world with this warped view and spew it to anyone who would listen.  I worked part-time through high school and one day a coworker at the deli where I was a cashier had had enough of my bigoted rhetoric and he came out to me.  I was forced to reconcile all that I had done and said, because this person was my friend and now I had a face to put with this group of people I had been condemning.

Two years later, I was off to a liberal women’s college in Massachusetts.  I consider my four years there to be the most formative years of my life.  I am surrounded now by a group of friends that is diverse, intelligent, and talented…and yeah, many of my college friends are LGBT, but it’s never been something that mattered in our relationships because I love them for everything they are.  I’ve been exposed to a world way beyond my front door and to be quite honest, I think that’s what it takes to help people understand the beauty of love in its purest form, without concern for what parts are involved.

Some might say that I am overcompensating for a certain level of guilt over how I used to be, and there might be a tiny bit of truth to that.  I have marched in pro-gay demonstrations, attended countless Pride parades, worn more rainbow stuff than you could ever imagine existed, and reposted every LGBT-supportive meme that crosses my newsfeed on Facebook.  But these things are not the things that have had the greatest impact on me.  Here’s what has: seeing the looks of absolute dedication in the eyes of my two best friends from college as they said their vows in a park in Northampton, MA, just months after the legalization of gay marriage in that state; watching children, flourishing and happy, grow up with two parents that love them who just happen to be of the same sex; knowing that my son will most likely come of age in a time when his sexuality is his own to discover, without punishment or derision from anyone, especially his government.

I’ve lost touch with that friend who first came out to me all those years ago, but if I could find him I would thank him profusely for doing what my parents’ generation was still too afraid to do and forcing me to look beyond my own experience.  He forced me to come up with valid arguments for homophobia (I couldn’t, of course) and to see love between two people as something which cannot be dictated by others.  Because of him, because of all who have been as courageous as he was that day, Charlie will have a life rich with diversity and acceptance.  My greatest hope is that his generation will grow up not knowing what homophobia is, much like how my generation came of age after large scale racial segregation ended.

And here I am at the end of my post without even talking about the Supreme Court’s decisions.  Maybe it’s because I feel that the responsibility for making things right lies equally with all of us as it does with the justices.  I shared my story to show that change is possible – we owe it to the generation behind us and I hope that the Supreme Court will agree.

“Marriage is a vital social institution. The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support; it brings stability to our society. For those who choose to marry, and for their children, marriage provides an abundance of legal, financial, and social benefits. In return it imposes weighty legal, financial, and social obligations….Without question, civil marriage enhances the “welfare of the community.” It is a “social institution of the highest importance.” Marriage also bestows enormous private and social advantages on those who choose to marry. Civil marriage is at once a deeply personal commitment to another human being and a highly public celebration of the ideals of mutuality, companionship, intimacy, fidelity, and family…. Because it fulfils yearnings for security, safe haven, and connection that express our common humanity, civil marriage is an esteemed institution, and the decision whether and whom to marry is among life’s momentous acts of self-definition….It is undoubtedly for these concrete reasons, as well as for its intimately personal significance, that civil marriage has long been termed a “civil right.”"
Massachusetts Supreme Court
Goodridge v. Dept. Of Public Health, introduction by Massachusetts Supreme Court Chief Justice Margaret H. Marshall

(As read at my wedding in September 2008)

Here are some results from the study that I found interesting:

• Out of the 539 moms who introduced solids too early, 1 in 10 gave solids to their infant before 4 weeks of age. This can likely be attributed to the well-meant but misguided recommendations of grandmothers and older generations. We’ve learned a lot about infant nutrition in the last half-century, and the guidelines for introducing solids have evolved greatly.
• Participants in the study tended to be older, more educated, and had a higher income than the average mom. “Mothers of lower socioeconomic status are at a higher risk of early solid food introduction,” the study says.
• Formula-fed babies were about twice as likely to be given solids before the recommended 6 months of age when compared to exclusively breastfed babies.
• Over 50% of moms who introduced solids before 4-6 months said their child’s pediatrician recommended doing so. This is likely linked to pediatricians attending medical school when it was commonplace to introduce solids earlier, and not being educated on the current guidelines for introducing solids. It’s hard to question your child’s doctor – after all, most moms haven’t attended medical school – but if something doesn’t seem right or doesn’t jive with what you’ve read or heard, ask questions and get a second opinion. You are your child’s best advocate!

How can you tell if your baby is ready to start solids? Some good rules of thumb are that your baby can sit on his own (reclining high chairs are completely unnecessary), opens her mouth for food and swallows it, and shows an interest in bringing food to his mouth. Many moms nowadays (myself included) use the Baby-Led Weaning method of introducing solids, as it requires the child to show a true readiness and interest in solid foods and lets him gradually increase his intake at his own pace. And remember, just because the AAP recommends waiting until 6 months to introduce solids doesn’t mean that it’s the magic age for your child. Talk with your baby’s pediatrician and pay attention to your baby’s cues or lack thereof.

When did you start solids with your baby? Would you do anything differently if you could do it all over again?

Photo Credit: OneidaCountryPublicHealth.org

Mastering the slide…

Carrying on…

1.  The New York Mag article on SAHMs – First, I hate the title of this piece, “The Retro Wife.”  What does that even mean?  A woman making the very commendable choice to work in the home as a mother and caretaker does not make her some Mad Men-esque kitschy throwback.  And this article seems to ignore two big realities that impact many women’s decisions to either work or stay home – 1) Most American families out there, today, are simply not in a financial situation to even think about losing one income.  You can talk to me all you want about how you made the financial sacrifices and it was worth it, but it’s just plain impossible for some people and that’s that.  2) In certain industries, leaving for even just a couple years can doom your career forever, especially if you are a woman.

This article seems to make it sound like it’s just so easy to take yourself out of the game and then just go back to work if you feel like doing it later.  Um no, so sorry.  It doesn’t really work that way.  Is it cool that women are damned if they do and damned if they don’t?  No!  But it’s the state of things right now and I think it was really irresponsible journalism to just sort of ignore it here.

I do agree that there is nothing un-feminist about staying home, having a piping hot dinner on the table for your husband when he gets in from work, and even giving him a nightly massage to calm his frayed nerves after a hard day at the office.  But there is nothing serene and perfect about tending to a household all day, either, and the author seems to make it seem like being an at-home mom is just some dreamy wonderland.

Most of my friends couldn’t manage to get beyond the first couple pages of this article, but I read it all the way to the end for the purposes of writing this post and was impressed that they finally imparted a bit of realism in the final two pages of the piece.  Some of us working moms sort of thrive on the stress of balancing everything, while also learning what’s important and what we can let go.  I say that while also being jealous of the time my SAHM friends get with their kids.  I guess this piece just touched off my usual issue with these sorts of things – that we can’t support one decision without taking little digs at the other.  Is it so hard to say that there are choices out there for moms, these days, and that both of them have pros and cons?

2.  The Steubenville Verdict – Yeah, you knew I was gonna talk about this one.  I feel as if I read hundreds of pieces about this case, but the ones that really resonated with me were the one that encouraged us to explore the idea that these boys should be punished but that it’s okay that we also feel sad for them and the one that asks us to think about all women as people, none of whom “ask for it” when they are violated.

So yeah, I think the mainstream media coverage of this case was despicable because of all the sympathy that was given to these two young men, but I also think it’s sad that they were raised in a culture that made this sort of behavior seem even remotely acceptable.  At the same time, I’ve found myself wondering about their parents and how they are coping through all of this.  I’ve wondered about the victim’s parents, too.  We all know that even the best parents can end up having kids who drink to the point of passing out at a party, or who end up violating someone, or who do nothing to stop such an attack.  One of my greatest fears as a parent is that I will do everything I can to raise a thoughtful, good person, but all those efforts will go to the dogs because of outside pressures that I can’t control.  I’m not excusing these guys for what they did…ever.  But I wonder about their families and how they will move forward after this.

And in a sea of articles that seemed determined to make me eternally depressed about the state of parenthood in this country…

3.  …there’s this guy.  Now this, right here, is the type of person I hope my son grows up to be.  Peaceful but activist.  And with a sense of humor!  Exhibiting his First Amendment rights, while never questioning the same rights held by the guys across the street.  This guy is awesome.  I bet his parents are like, “That’s our boy!”

Lessons learned this week – I still want all mothers to just support each others’ choices instead of finding reasons to condemn them in order to feel better about their own.  Parents of children who do bad things are not always bad people themselves; we need to start looking at society as a whole and not just the two people paying rent, bills, and tuition.  But it’s that same society that is turning out some really amazing people, too.  Even though our media would sometimes like us to think otherwise, there are kids out there who grow up to do good, kind, and important things in this world.

What did these articles say to you?  Share your stories here!

But then there was the time when he didn’t.

We were on some suburban New Jersey soccer field on a Saturday afternoon.  I was sitting in my chair reading.  Mom was sitting next to me, while Dad was pacing up and down the sideline.  He’d been especially “verbal” that day, and I could see my brother glaring in our direction every time he barked some comment.  As my brother ran by one more time, our dad said something that I can’t remember but that I know was harsh. Probably 10 years old at the time, my easy going little sib stopped dead in his tracks and screamed, “Do YOU want to get in and play the @#$%ing game, Dad?  Then shut it!”

The proverbial record player came to a screeching halt and everyone turned to stare, not at my brother, but at our dad!  I never asked him, but now that I’m a parent I think I can assume that he was mortified, not just because his kid had just cursed him out on the soccer field, but because he’d pushed my brother far enough that he did it.

I thought of this moment during Charlie’s first day of soccer, this past weekend.  He did a great job in the first few minutes, following directions, showing interest in what the coach was showing them.  But at some point, he decided he was more interested in picking up the ball in his arms and running as far away from the group as possible.  I could feel my cheeks getting red and I had to stifle a desire to grab him by the arm and march him back to his spot with the group.  Admittedly, my husband did a really great job of chasing him down and redirecting him, while I just sort of stood there and fumed.  Yes, I was fuming over a 2 year old.  At a toddler soccer clinic.  Charlie running in circles was basically his way of telling me to “get into the game or shut it” and I deserved that.

On the plus side, Charlie made it through the whole session and did not break down into a tantrum, so he was in the middle of the pack as far as the group was concerned.  As cliche as this sounds, what chilled me out was seeing the total look of glee on Charlie’s face throughout the entire session.  He was having fun.  And as long as that remains the case, I’m going to do my best to keep my “super soccer parent” in check.

The night we transferred him from the cancer hospital to hospice, he and I had a few rare hours alone. We talked a lot. I promised him that I would have all the things I wanted in my life even though he wouldn’t be there to witness it. We agreed that it was totally shitty and unfair to each of us that he wouldn’t be alive to meet my children, be their Grandpa and experience me as a mother.  That is a conversation I won’t ever forget. It is also the conversation when I promised to name my first son after him. And when he told me not to take “any more jewelry from any other boys” while holding onto the necklace I was wearing from my then-ex boyfriend, the man who is now my husband.

Less than two years after that night, I have already achieved a few of those things I told him I knew I’d have. I am married to my Joseph, the obvious perfect match for me, and we are about to become parents to my father’s ninth grandchild. As I get closer each day to the arrival of this baby, the reality and emotions involved are getting closer too. I see that welcoming a child, becoming a parent, growing my family’s next generation is going to bring forth a new love I’ve never known, as well as a new wave of sadness for life without my dad.

The happiest event in my life is not the time to focus on my sadness though, and I know that. I’ve chosen to incorporate my dad, his memory and the things he loved into my baby’s life in as many creative and uplifting ways as I can. From the mobile above the crib made of all of my dad’s favorite things in nature, to the baby boy “Coming Home” outfit that includes a baseball hat because baby is due at the beginning of baseball season, dad’s favorite time of year. And the totally amazing song lyric artwork framed on the wall from one of the songs he chose to play at his funeral, Here Comes the Sun, by the Beatles. Although they will never know each other, I’ll never have a photograph of my dad holding my baby and we’ll never get to see their similar faces side by side, I will be sure that my baby knows how awesome Grandpa Dan was, how happy I am to be his daughter and how much everybody loved him.

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Kate also wrote about Having a Baby After Losing a Parent when she was pregnant with Max.