CurrentMom

Birthday Celebrations -- The Best Cake Ever

Meal Monday

I celebrated a birthday last week, and while I don't necessarily embrace the relentless march of aging, I do cherish how my son, now 11, went out of his way for me.  It was not a significant birthday, in the way that every fifth or tenth birthday is now. My family got me a new coffee maker, which everyone is enjoying immensely.

But Henry told me he wanted to make me dinner as my present. He is a fussy eater himself, and doesn't spend a lot of time cooking these days (understatement of the century), so I was impressed with his thoughtfulness. He sees me working in the kitchen every evening and in his own very perceptive way, understood that relieving me of this duty for one night would be a gift.

My husband also offered to pick up dinner, so we ended up compromising: Henry made the appetizer and the dessert and we had sushi as a main course. (When my daughter was six, her birthday dinner request was "Thai food and Fudgsicles," so that's what we had. Our birthday dinners do not always comprise sophisticated menus and combinations, but they are always heartfelt). 

What To Expect From Your Neighbors When You're Homeschooling

Nobody was more surprised than I about my decision to homeschool my child.  After all, I had researched the school system thoroughly before deciding to purchase a home in my community, one known for its excellent schools.  Nevertheless, I found myself thrust rather suddenly into this fascinating world of nontraditional education.  What has fascinated me most, however, is the various reactions from my neighbors.  Here are the top five:

1.  Confused.  “Funny, you don’t look like the homeschooling type.”  Oh, right.  Apparently, the stereotypical homeschooler is dowdy and out of touch.  She sees no need to keep up with current fashions and rarely sees the inside of a hair & nail salon.  So, alas, my neighbors are confused by my penchant for J.Crew clothing and mani/pedi’s.

2.  Curious.   “Oh!  So, you want to pursue a religious education?”  As if!  I didn’t realize until recently that folks who complain about the lack of prayer in schools often turn to homeschooling.  They want to teach creationism or otherwise reinforce the tenets of their religion.  Anyone who knows me KNOWS that this couldn’t be further from the truth!  I mean, I worship at the altar of cable television.  So, if anything, my child will learn the tenets of HBO and Comedy Central.

3.   Mortified.  “Oh my goodness!  So you don’t like the school?  Who was your child’s teacher?”   What they're really saying is:  “I’m paying a fortune in taxes to live in this community!  We're in a highly reputable school district!  What the hell do you mean the school is not good enough?!!!  Well, perhaps your child's teacher was a fluke.  Now I just want that teacher's name so I can warn my friends about him or her."

A Bat Mitzvah Blessing

Truth Thursday

We are rounding the corner to a major milestone in our lives – our only daughter, our middle child, the one whose strong and healthy heartbeat drowned out the sorrow of the still-raw loss of our infant son when she made her entrance into this world nearly 13 years ago – is about to become a bat mitzvah.

As you can see, I’m feeling more than a little sentimental.

My daughter is an amazing young woman. She has not yet climbed any mountains, or written her first novel, or created a brilliant science experiment or even aced a report card.

She is, in many ways, your garden variety almost-teen – giggly, friend-obsessed, and thinking a lot about clothing, and boys, and One Direction (and if you don’t know that last reference, which I didn’t until three weeks ago, then you are clearly not the parent of a young teenage girl.)

Thankfully, she has not yet had to face any serious health issues, deal with any major family hurdles or wade through major life obstacles. Which, if all things go according to plan, is exactly what it should be like when you’re 13.

She is bright and sunny and funny. Just as her older brother did when he was 13, she is trying on new skins, trying to figure out which ones fits her like a glove. She has lots of friends, many of whom are going to join us to celebrate in a few weeks. She is doing well in school, plays basketball, babysits for a lot of young kids on our block who idolize her, and is thinking about what to do this summer.

As she gets older, she is starting to be a little more analytical about the world, asking more sophisticated questions, and thinking about what she sees.

She thinks her brothers smell, but she puts up with them because, in fact, they both adore her.

She is the key to the relative calm and peace between siblings in our family. She breaks up the competition and the anger between the two brothers, and inserts herself as the voice of calm and reason and arbiter of musical tastes.

Really? Never?

Work Wednesday

It's been a couple of weeks since the overheated media fight about whether Ann Romney, wife of presidential candidate Mitt Romney, has ever worked—so by the rules of American elections, by now nobody will even remember what I am talking about. (And if you do, you'll be sick of hearing about it.)

But bear with me. For some reason, it's been hard to get the words "never worked a day in her life" out of my head. Not because they're inflammatory, but because I wonder how true they are, for Mrs. Romney and for most women today.

I'm not talking about whether parenthood is hard work. I think we all know it is, and that's a different argument. I'm talking specifically about working for pay. Think about your friends and family members who stay home to take care of their children. Do you know anyone who has literally never had a paying job?

Emotions and Logic in Conversation

Therapy Tuesday
Photo by: TaulPaul

Car trips can be interesting things. Spending time together as a family in a confined environment can bring out resourcefulness as well as frustration. Sometimes simultaneously by different people. Last weekend, we were stuck in a car for 4.5 hours: three adults, a 4-year-old, and the baby. On the way to our destination, my husband poked fun at me around a sore subject: buying a minivan. I was able to take it in jest, but I knew that there was some seriousness behind the joking.

Minivans are a point of contention between us. A big one. It seems like such an innocuous one, after all it's a car. But for me, it's the symbolism behind the car. It's a statement to the world: I am a Soccer Mom. And I mean no disrespect to anyone who has a minivan. They are utilitarian vehicles, especially when you have three children or need to cart around a lot of people. For some reason, this symbol is like cutting away at the identity that I've carved out for myself. I make to qualms pretending I'm cool. I'm not. By no stretch of the imagination am I cool. Yet, I cannot bring myself to even think about being behind the wheel of a minivan. I have friends who can empathize with me--they too have taken this side of the argument with their spouse. I have other friends who after protests, succumbed to buying a minivan, and they are now converts.

This is a lot of back story, as on the ride home, the jokes about minivans began again, and a serious conversation began. My point was that it would just pain me to have to drive one all of the time. I would be happy for it to be the primary car of my husband, but I just can't see that as my primary vehicle. He started to list the practical reasons for why it makes sense. We were at complete opposite stances, and not able to communicate. This caused a great deal of consternation and frustration for each of us. Later on, once we returned home, we were able to take a step back and talk.

I noticed that he was using logic, while my argument was based solely on emotion. We were at cross purposes as it was like we were speaking two totally separate languages. After pointing this out, we could look at our conversation. I articulated that I needed him to empathize and to say, "I hear that it would be a big change for you to drive this type of car." Similarly, he needed me to say, "I can hear that it makes sense on a practical level for us to buy this type of car." It is amazing how far a little translating can go!