DC Metro Moms

How Much Do You Tell Your Children?

Recently, The Washington Post ran a cover story for their Magazine titled, "The Secret Lives of Moms".  The mother on the cover was portrayed as a June Cleaver type woman with a bottle of Jack Daniels and handcuffs hanging out of her apron pockets which made me cringe just looking at it.  The line beside it began with, "If you have bongs or thongs in your past..."  Thongs?  What heck is wrong with a thong?  Yes, they are uncomfortable but that is why there is the g-string.  Are Moms not supposed to wear these?!

But, I digress.  The point of this piece is how much do we tell our children about our pasts?  Do we lie and cover up our mistakes for fear they will follow in our footsteps?  Do we use the brutal honesty approach and hope they learn the same valuable lessons we did?  Or do we use a combination of truth and white lie?  Really, what will come back from our past and bit us in the butt via our kids?

My Close Call with a SUV... On The Sidewalk!

Saturday evening my 4-year-old son and my husband took me out to dinner for Mother’s Day.  We do this because my Mother’s Day is always filled with celebrating my mother who lives close-by and my mother-in-law who lives close-by.  And this is great, and I am happy and thankful that both my husband and myself enjoy having our families close… and we almost always have a babysitter!

We got rock star parking- just a few steps away from Cafe Deluxe in Bethesda, a favorite choice of ours for ‘dining’ with a little one- good food, great service, crayons and a booster seat- what more could you ask for? 

My husband parked and ran down the street to look at some new construction…  Boys never really grow up, do they?

My son was safely and happily playing by a bicycle rack about 3-feet-away from me and away from the curb.  I stood ON THE CURB as I fed the parking meter, with one eye on my son and one eye on the meter.  As I put the last coin in the meter, standing on the small area OF SIDEWALK in front of the parking meter, I saw something coming at me out of the corner of my eye.

In a split second I turned, saw a HUGE Explosion Expedition speedily backing into me,

"Non-Mom?" I Don't Think So

I've been called a lot of things in my life, some nicer than others.

But since becoming the mother of my daughter, no one has ever called me a "Non-Mom" until this weekend.  Yup, you heard me -- a big network called me a Non-Mom.  Well, not just me -- they insulted thousands of other moms, too.

As if a show produced for Mother's Day called "America's Favorite Mom" isn't bad enough -- Hey, America -- who's your most favorite-ist mother off all?? -- someone had the bright idea of dividing all the moms into categories.  You had the Working Mom.  The Military Mom.  The CEO Mom.  And then the ultra-special category just for moms like me -- the Non-Mom.

No, that's not for women who aren't moms yet.  This was a special category and name created just for moms who aren't related to their children biologically -- moms by adoption (me), step-moms (me) and foster moms.

Yup, I'm a Non-Mom.  Does that mean I don't have to cook dinner tonight or finish the laundry?

The Self-Conscious Public Nurser

I'm not one of those women who walk around naked in the gym locker room. (That statement makes it seem like I go to the gym, but I assure you, it's for illustrative purposes only. I have not stepped into a gym in years.) Generally, I would turn to face the locker/wall/other non-mirrored surface while temporarily topless and/or bottomless. As long as I had some kind of material on, whether it be a bra or underwear, I felt considerably more comfortable. But, that pure nakedness, even among fellow women, was to be avoided if at all possible.

When my daughter was born three years ago, nursing her in public was something I intended to do. I knew mothers did it all the time and, by golly, it was my right! It was natural, nothing to be ashamed of, and I was not about to be confined to the home just because I decided to breastfeed my daughter.

I bought nursing tops (those hideous paneled creations that scream UGLY NURSING WEAR!) and practiced deploying blankets and shawls as visual shields. No sweat, I thought to myself. I can do this.

Not Just A Mom

....cross posted from our sister site, Silicon Valley Moms Blog.

It always seems around this time of the year, that I ponder the whole motherhood thing. I go back and forth between feeling powerful in the role of being a mother and powerless at how moms are perceived...But this year has been different on many levels..

Yesterday as I was talking with a group of people at a family running event, one of the dads mentioned his wife to me and said something to the effect of "Just a mom". He was actually complementing how amazing his wife was to give up a career to be a mom, but it hit a nerve with me. Feeling the power of my parent blogger network and specifically one of the pledges in the back of Maria Shriver's book "Just Who You Will Be?', I said in a clear and steady voice "Never say Just". To confirm another reason why this year is different, a fellow mom friend of mine standing in the group said "Yeah, you are talking to a mom who blogs and was just interviewed on Forbes.com".

heh.....

I wondered why it took being a gadget obsessed mom interviewed by mainstream media about being a gadget obsessed mom to feel validated on a new level. But the secret to my sense of power is not only in the interview, it is in the "Groundswell". Charlene Li a fellow Silicon Valley Moms Blogger and co-author of the book defined Groundswell as the "social trend where people use technologies to get things they need from each other, rather then from traditional institutions like corporations".

Click Here to continue reading this post on Silicon Valley Moms Blog.....

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all women out there. And extra special love and prayers to all those hoping to be mothers now or again, and those that are missing their moms. This is a beautiful day, but also a tough one for so many. Whether you are filled with joy, sadness, fatigue or exasperation today, I wish you peace.

My own mom is the world's kindest person. This is a fact that is disputed by no individual that has ever met her. She cares for and selflessly puts her daughters, father, grandchildren, brothers, co-workers and the students of her fourth grade class all ahead of herself. Her consideration of others is legendary, and one of my life's goals is to be half as giving and loving as Sharon Lee House Slovak.

Computer Comfort Age

My mother, a 60 year old baby boomer, has always embraced technology as much as possible. I have yet to get her on Twitter but she reads blogs, has an ipod, emails and uses online banking & shopping almost as much as I do. Kathie Lee Gifford, eat your heart out.

My 90 year old Nana, on the other hand, doesn't even like the word "computer" used in her home. So, when one of Nana's friend's called regarding my sister's bridal registry, I was prepared for the confusion - the belly laugh, not so much.

Hi Kimberly. It's Judy Smith. I just received the beautiful bridal shower invitation in the mail! How precious! Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to make it. Dick's foot is still bothering him and he needs me here. I would like to send a gift to the house, though. Can you call me back and tell me what's on her registry? Thanks!

I chuckled as I listened to the message. Judy wanted me to phone her and list off the items on the wedding registry? The happy couple is registered at three locations and have lengthy, detailed wish lists. Did she really expect me to read them all to her OVER THE PHONE? Oh yes, she did.

Why I'm Putting Out Food By The Mailbox Saturday

Because it's Stamp Out Hunger Food Drive day. Brought to you by the National Association of Letter Carriers.

It's so easy to do:

Parking Wars

I live in a townhouse development, and like pretty much every single other townhouse development I've ever seen, parking space is at a premium. We don't have assigned parking, but the homeowners association has very specific rules about it. This leads to a recipe for disaster when it comes to violators of the rules and the rest of us who need to cope with it.

I had an old neighbor who took parking disputes to a new extreme. She lived next door to me, and discovered after she moved in that this row of houses has a particularly high level of owners who if they aren't breaking the rules outright, which is much of the time, they are at least violating the spirit of the laws.

Our bylaws state that each resident is only allowed to park two vehicles in front of their house, and any other cars are to use the surplus parking lots, which are few and far between and which don't exist at all

I LOVE a man who brings me groceries

I have three boys - three ACTIVE boys - and getting to the grocery store isn't easy or quick. Anyone who has kids, was a kid, or has been to the grocery store knows that it's not necessarily the easiest thing to shop for groceries with kiddos in tow. Now, my kids are great - and I've always taken them to the grocery store. Even as infants I dragged my twins and my older son - towing two carts so I could fit all the car seats in and actually have room for groceries.  I elicited all kinds of sympathetic looks, and I'm sure we were quite a sight to behold. Shopping at night was another option - at least the kids were at home with Dad, but who wants to spend their free evening shopping? Not me. There were also times that my hubby went to the store. As long as he was armed with a complete list, we were good to go. He came home with everything on the list - most of the time. But again, who wants to spend their free evening at the store? Not him either.

So I've fallen in love with a man other than my husband. I'm in love with 

Katie Couric on her interview with John and Roberta McCain

...cross posted from our sister site, New York City Moms Blog.  Written by Katie Couric.

Hey, it's me again.  First, let me say to PunditMom that I'm so appreciative that you think I get it. Woo!! (Just don’t ask my kids the same question.)

I wanted to tell you about my interview with Sen. John McCain and his mother Roberta.  I must say, I've always thought that you can learn a lot about someone by talking to their mother, and that was definitely the case yesterday.  At 96, Roberta McCain is still as sharp as a tack. 

First, let me say the woman is beautiful.  She is really pretty and I hope I look that good at 56, let alone 96.

One thing that struck me, she is absolutely as straight-talking as her son.  It seems that "maverick" streak runs in the family.  As a college student, Roberta ran off to Tijuana to elope with Senator McCain's father.  She told me she took her school books with her on her honeymoon! It actually reminded me of my honeymoon. I took copies of Jane’s Defence Weekly (they spell it that way) with me because I was going to start reporting from the Pentagon when I returned. My husband told me he hoped that was not the kind of hardware I would focus on…but I digress.

(Click Here to see the YouTube video interview between Katie Couric, John McCain and Roberta McCain).

Roberta has clearly always had a lifelong quest for learning.  She loves museums, and told me that she particularly loves D.C. because the museums are open seven days a week and are completely free.  During 

Click to continue reading on New York City Moms Blog

When Enough Is Enough

....cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

I was watching Oprah yesterday when Barbara Walters, of all people (I can't stand her), says something that just struck me to my core. She was talking about her special needs sister and how hard it is for parents of children with autism and that, although they love their children and would do anything for them, sometimes they think "it's just too much."

It's just too much.

I tear up as I even type that right now because really, what is so difficult about saying, "it's just too much" ? Why do I feel like I can't say it out loud when that's really how I feel? And so I did. I said it out loud. And it felt good. I am not the parent of a child with autism. I have been through my share of rough times. But it's just life in general right now that is overwhelming me. Whether it be as a Mother, wife, friend, or plain ol' human being. And I feel like I should pull up my big girl panties and just get over it. Toughen up. Get through the day. But I'm wiped out. I'm exhausted. I'm barely making it through the day and I have to say that this is no way to live, just barely getting by. I've had enough.

Click Here to continue reading this post on Chicago Moms Blog....

The Avon Walk- A Restoration of Hope

In some ways I am still reeling from completing the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer this past weekend.  Maybe it is due to the surprise visit I had from a dear old friend or simply the fact that my sleeping bag is still airing out on my deck.  However I may be feeling, it was worth it! Every blister, every painful step, even the rest stops that lacked water and Gatorade it was worth it and not just because it was the first year I did not have to lie in a puddle soaked sleeping bag all night. 

It was my fourth year completing the walk and the second that my aunt is cancer-free.  Each year it seems the list of who I walk for just gets longer and I remind myself that this is the reason I walk so that the list will not just get shorter but maybe cease to even exist one day.      

Minority Report: Raising "Other" Kids

I grew up in Miami -- a.k.a. the capital of of Latin America -- where being from a Spanish-speaking family is the norm, not the exception. It's not the kind of city that followers of Lou Dobbs would feel welcome in ... Spanish is the dominant language in many neighborhoods, and the Latino community is quite powerful. I never felt like a "minority." In fact, of the 800+ seniors in my high school's graduating class, at least half of the top 2% were Latinos, including the valedictorian, whose family had arrived in Miami during the Mariel boatlift.

My husband, on the other hand, grew up in a working-class suburb in central Pennsylvania. Although his parents had a relatively large circle of Chinese and Vietnamese friends, he was one of the few Asian students in his public schools. He only heard Cantonese and Vietnamese spoken in his home or at their favorite restaurants. He knew he was a "minority" from the get go, even though he never felt targeted or discriminated against.

Fourteen years after meeting in college and seven years after getting married, we now have three kids who have been called "exotic," "double minorities," or in the case of official documents, "other." Given our completely different experiences with being a minority in the United States, it often requires a good bit of introspection about identity, heritage, language, etc. to answer the sometimes insensitive, often harmless, frequently-asked question: "What are you? What are your kids?"

Did You Feel That?

Did you guys feel that Earthquake on Tuesday?

When my house first started shaking I thought it was a sonic boom. As I've mentioned here before, I am from Florida and so my first reaction was that The Space Shuttle was landing.

Being fairly certain that I hadn't heard the Shuttle from Northern Virginia, I did what any good blogger would do - I immediately twittered about it. (That is knows as tweeting to those of you who frequent Twitter.)

Watch Now: MomBloggers On The Today Show

If you missed mombloggers on the Today Show live, watch here, and find out just how influential bloggers and YOU readers are!

Always a Bridal Gown, Never Clutter?

Recently, whilst in the throes of a decluttering project, I came across my wedding dress packed away in a box. It rested atop a box full of Transformers from my husband's youth, and underneath a box of old coats.

I've gotten pretty good at making decisive decisions about my clutter. I'm even learning how to get rid of sentimental items. But the wedding dress threw me for a loop.

Unlike with the Transformers (nod along when the husband swears he's going to eBay them, and then throw them away when he forgets about them in six or seven years) and the box of coats (donate, donate, donate!), it seemed that I would be crossing a boundary by getting rid of the dress.

I Love A Good Spanx-ing

...cross posted from our sister site, New York City Moms Blog.

My parents always told me: you can be anything you want to be.   Sure, I thought, except a football player (wrong gender), a mathematician (wrong skill set), or a fashion model (just plain wrong). I'm not saying that I'm unattractive, but neither am I runway material...unless the runway is in the supermarket and I'm headed down the cheese aisle.

All that changed, however, when my friends from Role Mommy organized a mother-daughter fashion show at Macy's and invited my daughter and me to be in it.  My daughter, whose first word was “shoe,”  was beside herself with excitement. Me? I wasn’t quite as ready to tackle the runway.

I knew my daughter would look pretty. She’s smiley, she’s (naturally) blond, she’s got the little turned up nose I had until puberty robbed it from me. She’s eight. What could be bad? But what about me? Would I look pretty? Well, I wasn’t gonna look like a fashion model, that’s for sure. I mean, how many Jewish, 5’ 7”, frizzy-haired, size ten fashion models do you know? Something had to be done.

Click Here to continue reading this post on NYC Moms Blog......

A Victory for All Moms

Lately, I have been emerging from an infant-induced haze of little sleep and even less time for personal gratification. Just as I am nearing the point where I have consistent stretches of good sleep and somewhat reliable showering patterns, I am struck by how sentimental I still am about motherhood. Do you ever get something stuck in your head that won't stop playing? And I don't mean Billie Jean, although I just inflicted that soundtrack and video on myself just thinking about it. I mean a basic, gut-level reaction to life. Me? I see all the women I come in contact with as a litmus test for the well being of the Mommy Populace.

D.C. Races For Hope

Yesterday, my family participated in the Race for Hope 5K next to the mall (starting at Freedom Plaza, then down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol, down to Independence, a quick loop over to D Street, and back). My husband and I ran and he pushed our 4-year old daughters in the stroller. (One of them kept telling us, "I am getting very good exercise!")

The Race For Hope raises money for brain tumor research. Most people running were on a team of people participating in honor or in memory of someone they knew who had had a brain tumor. We were running with a team from my husband's office in memory of a colleague who died a few years ago in his early 50s from a fast-moving brain tumor.