CurrentMom

Lead by Example - Note to Self!

Travel Tuesday

"In bathrooms, boardrooms, buses, bagel shops, and everywhere else, we all need to imagine a little girl following us around, repeating everything we say and everything we do. Think about all the things you want for yourself and your daughters, granddaughters, and girls everywhere - and teach them by living it yourself."

Nell Merlino in
"Stepping Out of Line: Lessons for Women Who Want It Their Way in Life, in Love and at Work (Broadway)

This line really appeals to me, on so many levels. In terms of travel and my daughter, I can't see any other way of role-modeling and demonstrating how to be a responsive and rounded "global citizen" (and what that even means) than to go on adventures with her. We get to try out things, and have conversations, and ask questions, and seek answers, and laugh, and cry, about all facets of life outside our comfort zone, in real time. And in the places of authenticity as opposed to those fabricated elsewhere.

Tapioca Pudding, Anyone?

Meal Monday

I will never understand why tapioca pudding does not get its due.

Last week, I picked up a container of Kozy Shack chocolate pudding from the supermarket. Not that chocolate pudding is all that hard to make: actually it is a snap to whip up.

(Here is a basic cocoa cornstarch pudding from allrecipes.com, and here is another from the same site for chocolate pudding made in the microwave. If you want to go gourmet with high end chocolate, take a look at Smitten Kitchen's version and a vegan coconut variation from 101 Cookbooks.)

But, if you are going to buy pre-made chocolate pudding, it is so much better to buy a brand that is pretty close to homemade than a concoction with hydrogenated fat, high fructose corn syrup, artificial colors, and artificial flavoring. (Seriously, why does chocolate pudding need red food dye in it?)

But, I digress.

Explaining the Miami Serial Cat Killer to a Child

Family Friday

As I've mentioned before, when I became a parent, I began to process tragic news stories in an entirely new manner.  Upon reading a heart wrenching item, my mind instantly creates a video of the scene, and my children and I play starring roles in the drama.  Usually, such videos become too painful to watch, so as I shudder, I consciously perform a mental shut-off. 

So it has been with the horrific case of the Miami serial cat killings.  One of the feline victims belonged to a six-year-old girl, and the unenviable task of explaining what happened fell to her parents.  When my mental video of that scene begins playing, I shut it off quickly!

When I was about eight years old, my two pet rabbits fell victim to a neighborhood dog (the canine in question allegedly belonged to a retired Orioles player who routinely allowed it to plunder the area at night).  The perpetrator somehow broke the hutch door, then chased the rabbits down as they tried to escape.  My obese little fluffballs succumbed quickly – one died immediately (probably of a heart attack) and the other turned up dead a few days later in a neighbor's yard.  Apparently she was cornered in front of a shrub and she too seemed to have died of fright.

 Although very sad, I was not particularly traumatized by this, as I knew on some level that this was the natural order of things – the dog was merely doing what dogs do.  No malice, no cruelty.

We know, however, that if a traumatic event involves deliberate, manmade intent, psychological effects persist for longer and are more disabling.  In other words, a natural event such as a hurricane or tornado may traumatize, but as these do not involve human cruelty, recovery from the trauma may be somewhat easier.  And of course what makes the Florida case so awful is the calculating and sadistic nature of the cats' murders.

In Praise of Child Care (Yes, Child Care)

Work Wednesday

This month we’ve reached two turning points in our family’s life - my daughter graduated from preschool and my son moved on from diapers. (At least, most of the time. We did have a relapse during last weekend’s interminable trip on the New Jersey Turnpike, which should require no explanation for frequent travelers in the I-95 corridor.)

While I could write a weepy, blubbering post about the fleeting, episodic nature of early childhood, I’ll hold back. Because, in truth, I’m gleeful about it all. I love seeing my kids grow, change, and develop the vocabulary to communicate their daily discoveries – whether it’s my daughter’s enthrallment with reading or my son’s enchantment with colors. (This morning he announced that he is done with orange and now favors purple. Just after I finally managed to find orange shorts for the summer!)

The one thing I’m sad about, though, is that these milestones mean that my children will move on from their current child care arrangements - my daughter to kindergarten at the end of the summer, my son to the next classroom at his child care center in less than a month. I’m both anticipating and dreading the transitions - and the ways in which they will change our current work schedules, commuting habits, and related family dynamics. (Definitely material for blogs to come.) But more than that, I realize that I’m going to miss my kids’ child care centers and, of course, their caregivers - a sterile phrase for the wonderful, multi-dimensional, and loving people - mostly women - who have played a significant role in helping my kids reach these markers.

Now, my son still has a few years before he’s kindergarten-ready, so I’m not truly saying goodbye. But my daughter’s passage from preschool (and my son’s progression to the potty) provides a moment for me to pay tribute to the role that good but not perfect (see below) child care can play in the lives of a working mom and her family.

When the Travel Bug Gets Sick

Travel Tuesday

Daughter has been crook (Australian for ill) with croup for the past 8-9 days, which in turn has raised two points of reflection for me:

1. Why has an 11-year old still got croup?
(The medical fraternity assures me that it is unusual, not unheard of, but unusual.)

2. Thank goodness it didn't happen when we were away on our last adventure, like it had one other time when we were in Dorrigo, in New South Wales (Australia).