How I've Become Lame

I bought this nightgown yesterday.

My sister wrote a brilliant article about the mechanics of becoming lame.  I have noticed that it is happening to me at a much more accelerated rate than I thought possible.

I'm lame! I wear smock aprons in vintage fabrics when I cook. At first I bought them because they evoked a bygone era and seemed retro-chic. I'll just hang these in my kitchen for decoration, I thought.  But I wear them to keep the tomato sauce off my no-iron pinpoint shirts.

I wear them when I say, in a sing-songy voice, "I went to San Francisco on MY choir tour!!!" to the poor high-schoolers who come collecting money for their choir tour. I've become THAT kind of mom.  A sing-songy voice mom who thinks she is funny but makes people uncomfortable.

One time when I was in junior high I was watching "Top Gun" with my friend, Amy. "Highway to the Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins was playing. Amy's mom came into the room and sang"danejah zooone" in a dramatic voice while bobbing her head and dancing a little bit. We thought we would die of the lameness.  A few weeks later, the same movie was on and the same song was playing, only this time it was my mom who came into the room and sang "danejah zooone" in a dramatic voice while bobbing her head and dancing a little bit. It must be a mom thing, I thought at the time. A LAME mom thing. Now I go around singing and bobbing my head while dancing a little bit all the time! My kids have to ask me to stop.

What's the dealio? All evidence to the contrary, I don't think I'm lame. I think I'm funny.

I thought the Lanz of Salzburg nightgown I bought yesterday was funny and evoked a bygone era. My mom had the same one. My husband's mom had the same one. Their moms probably had the same one.  I'll just wear this as a joke to tease Mike, I thought.  I slept in it all night and it was like having an extra blanket just on me. I don't think it's so funny anymore--I think it's wonderful and am wondering how lame it might seem for me to wear thick leggings underneath it because it is a little cold on my legs when I walk around the house wearing just my Lanz of Salzburg and my LL Bean slippers.

I've been obsessed with chicken pot pie lately. I mean really good chicken pot pie.  My family doesn't understand. They like it well enough, but they don't emote over it like I do. I've been discussing rice pudding and may cook up a batch, just for me, since nobody else in my family would touch it. Bygone era evocation, or just a gradual decent into lameness? You be the judge.

I think it's all right to be a lame mom. My kids would probably think I am lame no matter what, right? I mean, the short hair, the cat-eye glasses, the Lanz of Salzburg, the smocks, the singing, the comfort food--those things could be replaced with long hair, contacts, silky PJS, ordering out, dignified silence, and sushi and my kids would probably still roll their eyes when I do dances while bobbing my head a little bit.

Is It Just Me?

This may come as a shock, but I have a hard time with the whole "confidence" thing.  I am way better now, at age 33, than I was ten years ago. And of course ten years ago I was way better than I had been five years previously. But I still do things like feel really self-conscious when I push the button at the crosswalk and stand there waiting for the little green man to tell me to walk. You know how there's sometimes a window of time when you could probably just walk, and no cars are coming, but the green man isn't telling you to go so you hesitate and agonize over what to do? I do that.  And I imagine that people in cars are watching me, and saying, "why doesn't she just go, already? There's nobody coming! Is she really just waiting for the green man to tell her what to do?" Am I the only one who does that?

Then there's every single time I come home with a shopping bag, or worse, a bag from McDonalds or Wendys, and I cringe, thinking that my retired neighbors across the street are watching me out their window and saying, "there goes Carly with another shopping bag! She must be a real spend-thrift! Oh, see, she's chosen to eat at McDonalds for breakfast! And is that a large Diet Coke at nine o'clock in the morning? Tut, tut." You can't tell me they aren't all watching my every move. I know they are!

So as I get older I realize that having an insecure mom is not very good for my kids (see Facebook status update wherein my son asks us why we don't know as many people as our friends do, and my husband tells him it's because I am afraid of people--and I am). I am all about quality, not quantity when it comes to interacting with people, but I may be taking it too far when I dream of living full time in a cabin in the mountains where nobody could ever talk me again.

The good news is, despite my natural lack of bravado, competitiveness, self-assurance, and confidence, I am slowly overcoming some important issues that have plagued me in the past.

Issue #1 is the swimsuit issue, of course. It does my children no good for me to keep them from the pool simply because I am too self-conscious to don a swimsuit. It also does my daughters in particular no good to hear their mother complain about her appearance in a swimsuit. So yeah. I squeeze my body into a swimsuit and my legs look like sausages beneath my ugly old lady swim shorts. And I don't say anything out loud about how bad I look.  This is a huge deal, you know.

Issue #2  goes along with swimsuits, and it is fatness and appearance in general. There is little worse than going shopping with someone who constantly talks about how fat they look in their size extra small clothes. So annoying. I am not a size xs by any stretch, but the "I look so fat" attitude is still a drag and annoying and damaging to those around me. So,  barring the occasional outburst while getting ready for church, I've stopped talking about it.  My kids don't need to hear that. Calorie intake, dieting, exercise, belly fat: all of these topics that seem to betray an underlying insecurity are also off-limits now. It's totally freeing! We talk about healthy food now and then, and we go on bike rides. But nobody is talking about losing weight or being fat or looking bad.

Maybe it's just that I am getting older and I am settling into my role as a mother more comfortably. I care less about being the thinnest and most fashionable person in the room.  I am realizing that being ok with my appearance is not just the mature thing to do, but the truly helpful thing to do for my kids. I have a long way to go (haircut obsession), but I am getting there.

Now, if I could just overcome some other issues (like crosswalks, and neighbors watching me, and calling people, and going to the post office, etc.) then my insecurity may not be passed on to my children. One can only hope.

If Buddha Had a Bumbo

(And he spit applesauce all over himself)

Summer Standards and Practices

Well, school's out.  A lot of parents really dread summer. They dread bored kids, kid fights, messy homes, hot weather, sticky otter pop fingers, skinned knees, sunburns, mosquito bites, knowledge attrition, dulling of wits, sloth, gluttony, ants, etc. I feel the same way. Summer is hard. I have spent a lot of time working on improving summer around here, and I think I have some tips that will really help parents and kids alike. Here they are:

1. I tell my kids that they can do anything they want, after they watch their 5 mandatory hours of cartoons each day. This solves a whole host of problems, and ensures that there is little time left in the day for such things as "going swimming."

2. Follow the 9:00 am rule: nobody gets out of bed prior to 9:00.

3. Never drive by a park you aren't willing to stop at. Kids always want to go to the park and play. What a bummer. I was over parks by the time my oldest was 4. Now when I drive by a park I shudder involuntarily. I don't know why I hate parks so much, but I do. So, I try not to encourage going to them, which means we have to drive a huge circle around the two parks in Rexburg. An extra 5 minutes of driving is totally worth it.

4. Keep blinds and curtains closed. Keep doors locked. Park around the corner from your house. Show no evidence that you are home. When the doorbell rings, hide until the little uninvited children get the hint and go ask to play at some other poor sucker's house.

5. A few cases of twinkies purchased at the big box bulk store of your choosing will provide a no-fuss breakfast all summer long.

6. Don't want to spend the entire summer driving around in a hot car? Then don't sign your kids up for sports.

7. When kids fight, lock them out of the house. I mean, literally put them outside and lock all the doors. Be sure there is some shade and a hose to drink from. We aren't barbarians!

8. Personal hygiene is a school-time concern. In the summertime, anything goes! In fact, have a toenail-growing contest among your children. It will provide hours of fun.

9. Summer is a good time to pretend you are really into homeschooling. Go ahead, try it for a week!  It will give you a special appreciation for when your kids get to return to school in the fall. 

10. Kids love structure, so make sure you have them get out of their pajamas by lunch time each day. This gives them that feeling of security and boundaries that school usually gives them. Another part of this rule is to never let your kids stand in front of the window in their pajamas lest your judgmental neighbor should notice and feel the need to comment to you about it later.

These are my summer standards and practices. Maybe they seem a little out of reach for you, but I dunno, I'm just a pretty drill-sergeant-y mom.

Wells is Cute

Two posts in one day?! This one doesn't count because it's just pictures. Behold, Wells:

 I had to document this outfit since he is seconds away from outgrowing it.

 "He looks like a hot dog saler" said Hazel. What she meant was a person who sells hot dogs. Did the rolls of fat give him away?

 He has huge pudgy legs and teeny tiny little feet. Just like his momma (sans bunions).

 I think he looks the most like Hazel.

 Things got a little crazy up in that photo shoot.

Feedin' time!

Just So You Know

You know those "sing-a-ma-jigs" that are excessively creepy?

Those dolls that have old timey ouch-less ponytail holders (as seen in the photo on the lower right hand side) for lips?

The ones you squeeze and their mouths make this perfect circle and they sing in really creepy, high voices and somehow kids just can't get enough of them? So picture one of those, and then imagine this:

Wells was lying directly on top of one and his body weight made the mouth open and while it was open he spit up RIGHT INSIDE OF IT. So now when you squeeze it and its mouth opens and it sings in that hideous voice and its eyes stare unblinkingly at you, you also get to see some white chunky spit up inside.  It really adds to the overall effect of the sing-a-ma-jig's eeriness.  

It's Time to Give Up

I've been engaged in some soul-searching for the past, like, 24 hours, and I think I have finally realized that it's time for me to get a uniform. I know what you're thinking: "but, Carly! You're so young, thin, hip, and trendy! You don't need to limit yourself by sticking to a daily uniform! You can wear anything!" I thought that, too. But I was wrong. This may come as a great shock to you, but I am actually NOT young, thin, hip, or trendy! I am 33, needing to lose several pounds from having baby #4, a fuddy-duddy who thinks the Urban Outfitters catalog is pornographic, and still figuring out boot-cut jeans (forget about electric blue "jeggings").

I think I've been in a little bit of denial about my appearance. And I keep buying clothes that go against my inclinations, trying to "branch out" when really what I need to be doing is scaling back and wearing things that make me look good. So I have this wicked-yuge wardrobe full of things that I don't wear very much. Then I feel guilty and paralyzed each day when it's time to get dressed. I feel like I have all these cute things but I don't feel comfortable in them and don't know how to put them together. Getting dressed in the morning has become the fight of my life. I'm serious! (Let's hope nothing truly bad ever happens to me.)

So I have been reading about uniforms. Mostly I read this loooong blog post about a man scaling back on his pocket squares and ties. Even though I was somewhat shocked that a dude would put that much thought into his clothes, I was inspired. Why NOT have a signature look? Why NOT take the guess-work out of getting dressed every day? It may seem restrictive at first but it's actually quite freeing.

I tried it today. I was getting dressed and I said to myself, wear your uniform, and I did. And I didn't look back. And I didn't feel guilty or shameful about neglecting the other things in my closet. It ruled. Then I put Ruby in the same uniform. She looked so good.

Now I bet you want to know what my uniform will be. Mike guessed "black stretchy pants" but that was only my depressing pregnancy uniform in Taiwan. My 33-year-old-mother-of-four uniform is actually pants (jeans, khakis, neutral), a shirt (t-shirt, usually, but I am considering some button-ups), and a cardigan. This is what I wear most of the time, anyway. I just needed to own it, embrace it, articulate it, and hone it.

This is a good look for me. I wish I could have wild, curly hair, too. But that's another blog post.

Lately I've been suppressing my desire to wear cardigans in favor of doing something "different," but now I realize it's time to stop fighting. It's time to give up and accept my fat-hiding, practical, fuddy-duddy, nod-to-Mr. Rogers-when-he-comes-home-and-takes-off-his-blazer uniform. Who knows? Maybe if I start teaching again I will get some blazers so I can come home, take them off, hang them up, then put on a cardigan with patches on the sleeves and change out of fancy work shoes into comfy sneakers. It feels oh, so good.

When the weather is warm I will wear skirts and t shirts. Sundays will be opportunities to branch out and experiment (since I have to dress up for church and I enjoy it), but I will try to focus more on what looks good, not just on what is trendy.  This is a really grown-up decision for me. Even though it has come to fruition over the past 24 hours, I realize it has been developing in my mind over the course of a couple of years. I think it started a while ago, when the things in Lands End started looking good to me. It's okay. I'm 33. I'm a mom. I'm pear-shaped. It's time.

The next big grown-up decision? A hair uniform. But that's a ways off.

Hallelujah! (Or, I found a laundry system that works)

If you've been wondering about me and my mental health, then you should know that things are getting much much better. In fact, I don't want to jinx anything, but there is a possibility that I may have things somewhat under control. Wells is a sweetie pie who has turned from a somewhat enigmatic newborn to a chubby, happy, adorable almost 4 month old bundle of cuteness. So things are better.

Part of the reason why I feel sort of sane again is that I have finally found a laundry system that works for me. With 6 people's clothes to clean--including disgusting clothes from the dog sledding adventures that smell horrendous--laundry has been crushing my spirit lately. I have no trouble washing and drying clothes, in fact I enjoy it. But folding and putting away is really hard for me. I may fold, but then putting away eludes me. Or I may never even get around to folding, and we all live out of the laundry basket. Not to mention the fact that if I miss one of my designated laundry days, it feels impossible to get caught up.

I wanted my kids to be in charge of their own laundry. But they are still a little too young to actually put in a load (Holden isn't, but I guarantee he would forget and then have no clean clothes ever). I wanted something intuitive that would make being in charge of their own clothes natural and easy for my kids. A total no-brainer system that would put the responsibility for the whereabouts of their clothing in their own hands.

My solution?


The Horizon Round Crunch Can by Umbra. I bought one in each color, designating a color for each kid (Ruby threw a fit so we made sure she got pink). Now, when I take clothes out of the dryer, I sort them into the cans, and then the kids are in charge of putting their clothes away. Obviously, I still put the baby's clothes away, but my 3 year old has no major trouble sorting her clothes and putting them where they are supposed to go. She does this with the help of her older sister, but the point is, I am not doing it for her.

Now, if you care about folding, then this won't work for you. My kids don't fold. We are working on it, but honestly, this is a small price to pay for me if they can be in charge of their own clothes. Folding will come later. Or never. I honestly don't care.

The reason why I bought these (which were a bit pricey for 4 at $20 apiece) and not something cheaper or different was because I wanted it to be simple to recognize whose clothes went where. A crafty person might be able to paint a name on a plain canvas bag or something, but I didn't want to have to do that. I just wanted it to be plain and easy. These are easier for kids to carry, too. And it's also nice that they collapse. An unexpected bonus is that when these are empty, the kids like to hide in them and make me guess who is in which color. Hours of fun! Laundry put away! Kids in charge of their own things! This system has been working for over a month now. I can't even believe it's real! It's basically utopia over here.

If there were a similar system for putting kids in charge of their own meals, I would totally do it.

And just so you know, The Container Store is not paying me for this. I just love this system so much that I wanted to share. Life may have meaning and hope once again.

Car Car out.

My Dudes at the Ashton Dog Derby

Videos courtesy of Ivan--thank you! I was too busy looking after little ones to do much in the way of photography. If you listen closely on the first video you can hear my voice saying "and now we sit in the car for an hour" in a bitter tone. I'm so supportive...

http://youtu.be/fxkBYKsyK0E

http://youtu.be/vL65N3IsVVo

http://youtu.be/WhQRdrSIMhU

The Delightful Side of Wells

What Those Other Bloggers Won't Tell You

I have discovered that after four children and ten years of being a mom, I know absolutely nothing at all. Wells is an enigma to me. One day I am positively certain he has reflux. The next day he's colicky for sure. The next day, sleep deprived.

I need to nurse him more often because he's not getting enough food--no, I'm nursing too much and he's gained too much weight and now he'll be obese for life. Maybe I should just switch to bottles? But then I'm a quitter, and what would the nurses at the hospital say if they knew??

The goal is motionless sleep, so says Dr. Weissbluth, but I'll be darned if he doesn't sleep better in the swing. Plus, it plugs into the wall and therefore never stops. When I put him in his crib he wakes up two minutes later, but at least he is having motionless sleep, right? I mean, what is the priority? I exist in a constant state of questioning every move I make. He's finally asleep! Now where the dickens am I going to put him? Do I risk the crib, or do I succumb to laziness and the need to survive and put him in the swing?

I also exist in constant state of guilt: guilt for being mildly to extremely annoyed with my other children on a daily basis and for no legitimate reason, guilt for using the swing and over feeding and doing all these things that I know will create waking problems and bad habits. Guilt for not having time to devote to my spouse, or an interested ear for the latest news in the world of dog sledding. And especially guilt for "not enjoying every minute." Thankfully, someone just addressed that very issue quite nicely. Still, I get those comments all the time from well-meaning people who haven't had a newborn in decades, and it does make me feel guilty.

I see these young, new mothers at church. They have their lives so together! Their babies sleep at night! Their babies eat every three hours! They do baby massage! They just can't believe how wonderful and easy it is to have kids! I can't even last through one church meeting without having to get up and leave with my fidgety, grunty, groany, rashy, thrashy, hungry, angry, gassy, refluxy baby. I am bouncing up and down the halls while these young moms sit quietly in Sunday School with their babies swaddled perfectly, sucking on their pacifiers, angelically asleep. "Sister B's baby is so easy-going," someone whispers to me. Well, bully for her!

At night I think about all the people in the world who are just going about their business, brushing their teeth, putting on their pjs, doing their nightly bedtime ritual with a sense of surety that they will, indeed, get into their beds and stay there for six to eight hours. I envy these people. I sort of hate them, too. I want to say "ha! Look at you, getting ready for bed as if you have hope in a peaceful night! Just who do you think you are, exactly?" I see my husband flossing and it sends me into a spiral of depression: "what do you think you are doing? This day isn't over!"

Is Wells adorable, sweet, a blessing from heaven? Of course. Squishy, kissy, smiley, and happy? Yes. Wells is a delight and a half. He's the tops and all, but it's also just really hard, okay?

Nursing Hallucination #8

I am Mr. Bates, and I cradle Anna's tender feelings (i.e., my infant son,Wells) in my arms. Every move I make affects her, and it is a very heavy responsibility. Ah, Downton Abbey! If you are not watching, you really should get a move on. It's the best show for hallucinating while nursing EVER. And it has its other uses, too.

Nursing Hallucinations

I am not one of those people who enjoy nursing their babies. I do it because a) the La Leche League has me scared witless (they have a pretty nasty goon squad), b) the hospital staff really push it on you and make you feel super guilty if you don't, c) it is easier and cheaper in a lot of ways, and d) because I can. Believe me, if it was at all hard or complicated, if a pump or a feeding tube had to be involved, if there were any special steps to take to make it work, I would NEVER do it.

So lately I've noticed that while I am nursing Wells ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I have been hallucinating about whatever TV show I have been watching. For a while, I literally believed that I was Jerry from Parks and Rec and everybody was tricking me into nursing Wells again and again. Then, I kept thinking that I was Randy from Say Yes to the Dress and every time I rolled over to change positions, I was offering a new dress to a very picky bride (my male infant). I keep pulling dress after dress off the rack but she (Wells) is not satisfied. And then, because I watched Sister Wives in its entirety this weekend, I hallucinated that I was Kody and I was running around, trying to pay equal attention to each of my four wives, who were really just my one male infant.

Then there are the times when I think my baby has been replaced by another baby. Like, somebody just slips their baby in there for me to feed since I'm already doing it CONSTANTLY. Wells is almost 7 weeks old. He wears size 3-6 months and shows no sign of stopping with the constant nursing.

So, what other shows can I watch to fuel my hallucinations? I have clearly been into ridiculous reality TV because it is never so engrossing that I can't turn it off to change a diaper or get a snack. I' love some suggestions.

Over and out.

Wishing You Well(s) in 2012

Sorry so late. Here are some pics of Wells Michael Paul, our new baby boy. We chose his name because it was my awesome Grandpa's name. It's also Holden's middle name, which I thought was kind of a cool way to connect these two brothers who are 9 years apart. The middle name Michael is because Michael is so vain. You know how he is...

"A Parent is a Person Who Has Children"

I know Kacy says the best things about being a parent, and I don't really have anything to add or improve upon what she has already pointed out, but I've just been thinking about "parenting" lately as my oldest son approaches the double digits (he'll be ten in January) and suddenly seems to be turning into a surly teenager (puberty is thankfully not part of the equation yet). I love Nora Ephron's chapter, "Parenting in Three Stages" in I Feel Bad About My Neck. She makes such good points about how "parenting" has sort of become this new phenomenon, this new obsession, and that when she had her kids a parent was simply "a person who has children."

"Here's what's involved in being a parent," Ephron says, " You love your children, you hang out with them from time to time, you throw balls, you read stories, . . . you teach them to say please and thank you, you see that they have an occasional haircut, and you ask if they did their homework."

But then "parenting" became a thing, and suddenly it meant "playing Mozart CDs while you were pregnant, doing without the epidural, and breast-feeding your child until it was old enough to unbutton your blouse" (shudder). Parenting right now seems based upon the assumption that children come to us as a lump of clay that we are supposed to mold into the perfect person (through lessons, tutoring, planned activities, and complete involvement in their lives from the minute they wake up to the minute they go to sleep, at which time you break out the Love and Logic, or whatever the current popular parenting strategy is, and study up, while grinding wheat to make the bread for their organic lunches the next day). The job of a parent, then, is not just to love, and be there, and to teach good principles, but to also form and shape and mold and pound a kid into an "accomplished" person.

I think this is going on in with a lot of intensity right now. I'm not saying it's all bad. There are a lot of great things about reading parenting books and being involved in your kids' lives. Extracurricular activities are not inherently evil or anything. It just seems like maybe the pendulum is swinging too far to the extreme of parental orchestration.

Trick or treating always gets me thinking about this, and I think it's the perfect example: when I was growing up, we went trick or treating around the neighborhood on Halloween night. We walked for what felt like miles, unless there was a blizzard and then someone's highly reluctant mom drove us from house to house. We took big pillow cases. We usually waited until dark to leave, and came home hours later, then dumped out our candy and ate it.

These days, we have "trunk or treats," where everything is in a controlled environment, parents walk around with their kids, the entire event is over in half an hour, and when our kids dump out their candy at home, we engage in an elaborate system of buying back the candy, confiscating it, or melting it in the oven as an experiment. Parents worry about how they will "handle" all that candy in the house, and how their child will cope with the sugar. We worry about our kids being out on their own (not saying that isn't valid in many places). We worry about their teeth rotting, or their ADHD acting up, or their stomachs hurting. We worry, worry, worry, so we just decide to take control of Halloween so that nothing bad will happen to our children. They won't get a stomach ache, or have to walk by a scary house. It's all under control.

Why can't we just relax a little? I don't know. I think because if we relax, then we must be bad parents. Good parents, who engage in "parenting" don't relax. They plan, they prepare, they control, they study. Like I said, there is a lot of good in this, but I think we forget that our kids need to learn lessons on their own sometimes, no matter how painful.

Like Holden. He is in 4th grade right now and had to turn in a power point presentation on a book. It was supposed to be a book trailer. His presentation was 3 slides long and not adequate. I told him this. He disagreed. It took every ounce of integrity I had to say "ok, well, it's your choice to turn it in like that, but you will have to live with the grade you receive." He missed ten points and his teacher said "you need more information." I hope with all my heart that this made an impression on him.

I could have easily taken over the project and added more information, myself. I could have hovered over his shoulder until the project was adequate. But I remembered the time when I lied on a biology project and then had to tell my teacher about it and it was completely horrible, and from then on I vowed to be a really good student and I ended up taking AP Biology and getting a 4/5 on the test (brag alert!) That moment of accountability really turned my life around, and I don't even think my mom knew about it. However, it was her example and her non-pushy teaching and influence that probably led me to tell the truth and do the right thing. Was she hiring biology tutors, helping me with projects, and looking over my shoulder the entire time? No way. But she was being a parent to me in the original Nora Ephron definition. She loved me, spent time with me sometimes, asked about school. She taught me correct principles and showed me a good example. She did not take it upon herself to mold me into a biology star (I did that all on my own, bwahahaha). She let me be who I was, and helped me along the way.

I think about all this and feel conflicted every time I have to sign off on my Kindergartner's reading, or I get a tentative email saying 'Is it okay if I show your child a John Wayne movie for our cowboy unit?' or I get a homework assignment forcing me to make invisible ink with my 5 year old. There is so much pressure to be "parenting" all the time! I find that the times when I am feeling that pressure the most are the times when I make the worst mistakes and ruin my kids' and my own days. Maybe if I stopped trying be a parent in the modern definition of the term, things would be lighter, happier, and freer.

This wonderful lady at church gave the best "parenting" advice I have ever received. She said "the small things we do with our kids are always magnified." And she told how her grown son said "remember when we used to walk to Albertsons, buy twinkies, and then go to the park? That was so great." In reality, they did this ONCE, and the mom hated it because the walk was too long and it was a huge pain. Somehow in her son's mind, though, this small thing (that had no hidden agenda, ulterior motive, or molding purpose at all) became this wonderful, legendary memory. This gives me more hope than I can express! I am going to try to stop "parenting" and start just having fun with my kids a little more often. I wonder if that means they won't get into college???

This is Halloween

Dear BYU-Idaho,

Please don't punish my husband if he submits his mid-term grades just a titchy bit late today. You see, in a fit of Halloween enthusiasm, fueled by guilt over my diminished capacity at 9 months pregnant (and not helped at all by the utopian bloggers who document every moment of their blissful Halloween family togetherness with professional photography), I sort of got mad and made my husband come home from work early to carve some dang pumpkins with the kids. Because that's IMPORTANT. And we WILL have family together time, even if it sets us all on edge. I may or may not have behaved slightly less than rationally about the importance of a carved pumpkin on Halloween. I also may have been a bit of a tyrant about trick or treating ("You aren't finished yet! Get back out there! I want those buckets overflowing with candy and I don't care how cold it is!" etc.) So please don't punish him for it. And please bring steak back to the all-faculty banquet. Oh, and please stop making professors submit mid-term grades around Halloween (or, ever).

Sincerely,
Carly Paul
Halloween enthusiast, lunatic.

The "Mommy" Code of Ethics

When you become a mom, you are initiated into a club with other moms. This club has a strict code of ethics. You know, basic rules that are unspoken that all moms follow--or SHOULD follow. More moms ought to know these unspoken rules, so I am going to speak them here:

1. Moms don't show up at another mom's door with their adorable 4 year old and tell her that the 4 year old has been "begging to play," and then ask if they can leave that (yes, adorable) 4 year old at that mom's house for a while so they can go get their nails done or whatever it is they need to do. Moms need notice. Just a few minutes will do. They at least need a phone call, in an apologetic tone, with a good explanation. You see, moms sometimes might not want another child at their house, no matter how much that child wants to play or how cute he/she is. Sometimes a mom just doesn't feel like it unless she has some notice. Sometimes a mom is, oh, I don't know, making ricotta and not in the mood. Or sometimes she just wants to read blogs and look at facebook without interruption. (Exceptions to this rule are extreme emergencies wherein no phone could be accessed and the offending mom is desperate).

2. Moms just understand that other moms need to blog, and they don't ask each other "how do you have time?" when they darn well know that moms make time for things like that if it's important to them.

3. Mormon moms don't act self-righteous to other Mormon moms about how often they have prayer, family home evening, and scripture study. Mormon moms, instead, uplift and help each other. No bragging or self-aggrandizing, please.

4. Moms don't ask other moms to leave their house in the evening and come over to their house to babysit for them. Nothing is more demoralizing than spending a day taking care of children, slaving to put dinner on the table, then having to leave home and go watch someone else's kids. (again, extreme emergencies are an exception).

5. Moms don't make trouble for other moms re: television intake, sugar intake, epidural intake, formula intake, and birth control intake.

6. Moms don't yell at another mom's kid when that mom is right there watching. Moms respect the fact that another mom might have a different discipline philosophy and so they keep their mouths shut. (Exceptions include extreme cases where maybe the one mom doesn't notice that her child is about to fall into an abyss and so the other mom yells "Connor, get away from the abyss!" etc.)

7. Moms should reduce, rather than increase, each others' anxiety.

8. Moms don't make other moms feel guilty if they spend more money and time on their own wardrobe than on their kids' wardrobes. And on the other side, moms don't give moms grief about not looking their best when they are just trying to get a handle on this "mom" business.

9. Older moms, i.e., grandmothers, don't give new moms grief about the following: nap times, eating habits, potty training, crawling, walking, and behavior problems.

10. Moms know how to read between the lines. For example,
A) No, I don't need dinner. Really, I'm fine means "please bring me dinner."
B) I could do the fundraiser, but I'm not sure who I can ask to donate means "I don't want to do the fundraiser."
C) If you need anything, let me know means "I don't really plan on helping you. Ever."


So, there it is. The secret's out! Sorry, but once you're in the club, these are the rules.

Happy Birthday, Ruby!

Here is Ruby today at 3 years old
Ruby loves to make beds out of laundry baskets.
Ruby in Harry Potter glasses, complete with runny nose.
Swinging with Hazel.
Ruby at age two.
Ruby on her first birthday.
Some time between birth and age one.
An early smile, during the days of the 100th percentile.
Days after she was born.

Happy birthday, RJ! You really are the life of the party!

Allow Me to be a Prude for a Moment

I LOVE "Friday Night Lights," as well as "Parenthood." I think every grown up person should watch these shows and I think they teach good values, generally speaking. But I would never let my kids see them, because, have you noticed all the teenage promiscuity going on on? And it's not just the fact that it's going on, it's the way all the adults respond to it on the show!! The only time anybody ever gets in trouble or is involved in scandal is when a pregnancy is involved--and then somebody just gets an abortion, cries for a day, and in a few months they are right back on the beauty pageant circuit as if nothing happened at all. Their parents tease them: "hey, be sure to use protection next time, you fools!" I mean, what the what??? It's the reason why I hated Juno, even though it has a cool soundtrack and has likable characters or whatever: it teaches kids that it's okay to be promiscuous, even get pregnant, because in the end you will have a really sweet boyfriend who loves you for who you are.

Is this for real!!!???

Is this a reflection of reality, a gross exaggeration of it, or a pernicious suggestion to our youth? I was hoping that "Parenthood" would handle it differently, but of course they didn't. When faced with the fact that their daughter was you-know-whatting, the usually conscientious parents did this: "Oh, man. I wish she had waited!! Oh, well, let's get her over to the gyno for a birth control prescription!" Hello??? What has happened to this world? Can't anybody say "NO! Don't do that! Don't do it ever again! And let me tell you why not to do it..." anymore? Or do we just have to roll over and accept that kind of behavior? I don't get it. Remember the sitcoms in the 80's? Remember how it was such a SCANDAL and such a HUGE DEAL if there was ever a suggestion of promiscuity in the teenage kids of Cliff and Claire Huxtable? Those were the days....

Toddlerhood 101: Unwanted Public Behavior, or Ruby Threw A Hamburger at Somebody in Five Guys

This is my last set of toddler tips, I assure you. I just thought I might talk about unwanted behavior in public because last Friday I had a horrible shopping experience with Ruby that culminated in her throwing a hamburger at an innocent bystander in Five Guys (!!!). I had to wipe ketchup off this poor woman's shirt and everything. I think it was one of the lowest moments of my life as a parent. But of course these low moments make us smarter and better for next time, right? I mean, we sort of have to pass beneath all things (food throwing, vomiting on a 14 hour flight to Taiwan, swearing in front of a Nursery leader, fits on a dirty bathroom floor, etc) so we can emerge better and more refined on the other side. I hope so, anyway.

So here's what I learned after I emerged from the hamburger-ketchup wiping-screaming on the floor incident last Friday (this pertains to public naughtiness only. For at-home difficulties, I refer you to the book "The First Three Years of Life", which has really helped me. It suggests that you not allow behavior from your two-year-old that you would not allow from an eight-year-old. That was very interesting to me. I get sick of the whole "well, he's only three" excuse for things that should not be tolerated). When it comes to dealing with bad behavior in public, I suggest three lines of defense before you abandon that shopping cart full of items and rush out the door:

1. Avoidance. If you can avoid taking your toddler to the grocery store, DO IT. Go shopping in the evening or on Saturday when your spouse can stay with the kids. That might not be an option for everyone, but babysitters or babysitting trades can also work. If you absolutely must take your toddler to the store, avoid going when your toddler is tired, hungry, sick, or in a grumpy mood. My mistake with Ruby on Friday was that I forgot she had been up really late the night before. I also took her to four different stores before we stopped to eat. Avoidance also means staying away from hot-button issues and areas. Like don't go to the toy section of the store, and try to preempt any sort of meltdown. You have to plan ahead, perhaps choosing the longer route to the store that doesn't take you past Chuck E Cheese. It also helps to think like a cave man, because that's how your toddler thinks. It's true; I saw it in a parenting video once. Toddlers are cave men, developmentally speaking. Anyway, avoidance doesn't make you a wimp or an inadequate parent, by the way. It actually means you are in tune with your child.

2. Distraction. If your attempt at avoidance fails, your next line of defense is distraction. Keep toys in your purse. Open a box of Goldfish and pay for it at the counter. Ask your toddler to help you find a certain item, or play "I Spy" or whatever. Punishing, threatening, and even yelling will not work in public. How can you give a toddler a time-out at Target? Instead, try to distract your child when things start to go south. I probably could have avoided my whole hamburger fiasco if I had let Ruby cut it in half (she freaked out when I cut the hamburger in half to give some to Hazel), or if I had cut it in half before she started eating it (duh), or maybe I could have waited till she was looking the other direction, the whole bait-and-switch technique. Whatever it takes, try to distract.

3. Bribery. When all else fails, just bribe your child. "If you can be good, I'll let you choose a candy bar in the check out line/we'll go to the park after/I'll give you a popsicle in the car" etc. Bribery can sometimes lead to spending too much money, though, which is why it is a last resort. For example, I have bought stupid things for my toddlers to bribe them to be good when I was really desperate. But that's what I get for not being smart enough to avoid the situation in the first place! Every time I look at Ruby's Buzz Lightyear "slanket" I am reminded of just how much I need to avoid taking her out in public.

A word about yelling: I yell at my kids at home. I try not to, but sometimes I do lose my temper and yell. But yelling in public is so embarrassing and undignified. It really makes the people around you uncomfortable, and it also makes them sympathize with you much less than they normally would. I was at McDonalds today, rewarding Hazel for being brave during her Kindergarten shots, and there were a few moms there yelling, snapping, breathing hard through their noses, getting red in the face, and counting to three really loud. It made me so uncomfortable and it also made me feel bad for their kids. This is funny because I yell, snap, get red in the face, breathe hard, and count to three really loud at home quite frequently. This makes me realize how ugly I must seem at home, so maybe it will help me stop.

Finally, don't sweat it if your toddler throws a huge tantrum in public. Let people stare. Let them judge and gawk. You can't stop them from doing it, anyway. All you can do is maintain some dignity by not matching the intensity of the fit. Keep your cool at all costs. If your three lines of defense fail, and you have really had it, just walk away. Come back later and start over again without your little cave man in tow. Life is too short to spend it being humiliated at the grocery store.
So, that's all I got. Good luck with your toddler. Peace out.