LA Moms Blog

Our Chanukah traditions: It's a wrap!

Note: The follow sequence happens every year.

On the first night of Chanukah, our house is a showpiece. Menorahs are displayed, gifts are piled high on the dining room table, the air is fragrant with the aroma of fresh latkes.  There are dreidels to play with and chocolate gelt to eat. My kids eye the pile of gorgeously wrapped presents with hungry, greedy glee. A virtual feeding frenzy ensues after the candles are lit and they can finally, finally get at those goodies! The bows go flying. It's a full body sport and sometimes there are injuries. Papercut? Shake it off!

Note: Normally my kids treat a papercut like a tragic and possibly fatal wound. But on Chanukah? it's just a well earned battle scar.

After the madness settles and we have located the bolt cutters to extricate the toys from their prison of plastic packaging and shackles of twist ties, the mess is breathtaking. What took hours to package, wrap, label, tie with bows, and stack lovingly on the dining room table took exactly six seconds to dismantle. Faster than frying a latke.

Think we can keep this up for 8 nights in a row? Not a chance. So it's no surprise on the second or third night, that you begin to see less elaborate wrapping jobs. Sometimes you even see a "redo" if, on the first night, some the paper came off in a large swathes without too much tape damage. Like perfectly shelled eggs. Grandparents and other elderly relatives, are great at pouncing on those remnants, knowing we'll want to use them again later. We snort and roll our eyes at their depression era thrift. And then by midweek we scrabble through the recycling bin for those scraps Mema preserved. We like trees. Chanukah wrapping is both hard to find and expensive.

Fertility Uncensored – What a mother will do to have a baby

Are you hiding your fertility problems? Wondering why it’s taking so long to get pregnant?  I know the realities of trying to have a baby and having to jump through fertility hoops. Every year at Christmas time it reminds me of my holiday hormone injections... 

I had no problems getting pregnant at 33 with our first son.  However, after trying to conceive for two years for a second child, we finally turned to a fertility specialist for help.  I had no apparent fertility issues, my husband and I were both tested and we just could not successfully get pregnant.  Clomid, a pill that creates an extra egg per month, didn’t work because I was over 35. So I opted for the big guns -- Daily hormone injections.  The first round of insemination failed.  A month later I bit the bullet and injected more hormones.  This second time it was a success.  I had a healthy bouncing baby boy.

However, where there’s joy there is often hardship.  I was the 5% of women who can get a serious side effect from hormone injections.  When you inject hormones your allowing your ovaries to create multiple eggs.  I had so many ripe eggs that my ovaries became enlarged. I looked like I was five months pregnant at 13 weeks.  It was painful and scary. 

The Magnet School Deadline

With the December 18th application deadline looming, a little less than a week remains before Los Angeles parents have to make a magnet school choice.  This choice is always stressful, and this year, most parents are feeling an extra sense of panic about the decision.  With rumors of either 5,000 or 8,000 expected layoffs in LAUSD, the elimination of all visual and performing arts programs, and who knows what else is going to go down, magnets increasingly seem like a last bastion of excellent education, and everyone wants in.

To add to the panic, this year's application deadline is almost a month earlier than last year's January date.  The change has had our family scrambling to visit campuses, talk to magnet coordinators, and fall in love with schools my kids will most likely get rejected by.

We're used to rejection.  For the past few years, we've applied and been rejected by Community Magnet.  If we apply there again, I don't see how this rejection cycle can possibly change.  Last year, Community Magnet had 2266 applications.  This year they'll probably get around the same number of applications  for 110 openings, many of which are in kindergarten.  My sons are going into second and fourth grade, so unless a bunch of kids decide to drop out of those grades, we're not getting in.

Los Angeles Rain vs. Deep-Seated Childhood Fear

Something woke me in the dead of night.  I opened my eyes, floating in that sleep/wake state in which one hovers upon the moment of waking, my eyes focused on the window.  I noted the pleasant sound of raindrops hitting the wide, flat banana tree leaves outside.  I bolted upright.

"Stewart, it's raining!" I stage-whispered as I shook my husband awake.  Rain in Los Angeles, catching us unawares, is cause for alarm.  He slowly, oh so slowly turned over and opened his eyes as I panicked.  "What did we leave in the backyard!?"

Crash! Boom! Bang!

My kids keep picking fights with large, inanimate objects, against which they have zero chance of  winning a fight. What to do, what to do? I wish I knew. Our pediatrician assures me this is normal behavior for almost two years old. That doesn’t stop me from worrying. My friend Jason was horrified to learn that my kids climb into the window sill. Of course they have to get onto and over a gym mat, a mattress and a couch to get there. But does that stop them? Nooooo! If they decide they want to reach something, they will stack up toys, boxes, whatever they can find, if they are unable to climb up on to do it. Jason asked me if I have 50 heart attacks a day. Close, Jason. Close.

I must say that the time period of being sleep deprived was difficult. I was tired but they weren’t mobile. Taking care of the triplets was by far easier than it is getting to be now. Today my daughter smacked her head twice and slammed a finger under a toy. The first head smack was so bad she immediately developed a one inch, purple and ever growing lump on her forehead. After the initial BOOM against the wall, the shrieking was enough to give me a headache. I carted her off to the doctor who is just five minutes from our house and had her checked out.  All good. Back home less than an hour later, she smacked the side of her head. In the very same wall spot as the first crash. More shrieking.

In the meantime, the boys are all over the place. One cannot yet walk, but is in a gait trainer and getting around quite nicely. When he is on the floor, he scoots pretty fast on his bottom using his feet to pull him.  I can barely keep up with making sure there are cushions behind him in case he falls over and smacks his head on the tile floor. More worry.

Cookie Exchange Angst

I have come to accept the fact that I am an imposter among my peers.  Everyone I know has their domestic lives firmly in order, meanwhile the only cleaning supplies I own are a bottle of windex and baby wipes.  I recently received an e-mail that sent me so far over the edge that I’ve begun to question who I really am and where I came from.  The e-mail subject: You are invited to a Cookie Exchange.  I’d never heard of such a thing.  Me, who has lived in several foreign countries, considers herself fairly hip to American Culture and was on Jeopardy!  Somehow the cookie exchange never made it into my consciousness.  The e-mail said simply: You are invited to a cookie exchange, bring three dozen cookies.  Must be homemade.  Great, I thought, I don’t even know what this is and I can’t buy my way out of it either.  Of course, I proceeded to Google “cookie exchange” and became even more confused.  Seems like there are all kinds of variations.  Bring cookies beautifully wrapped, bring the recipe, bring several copies of the recipe, bring an elegant tin to exchange with another participant.  Interestingly, no where does it really explain what your end result is?  Do you eat cookies at the exchange?  Or do you just exchange them?  If you bring three dozen, do you leave with three dozen?  Here’s where I’m really confused: What do I then do with the three dozen cookies?  Yes, I know, I could eat them.  I could give them away.  I could throw them away.  I want to know what people do with their cookie exchange cookies.  Do all my domestic goddess friends live in idyllic neighborhoods where carolers come by and you happen to have hot cocoa and your cookie exchange cookies all arranged on a Christmas Tree shaped plate?  The carolers finish belting out “Silver Bells”, yank off their mittens and then huddle in your elegantly appointed foyer sipping and munching?

I have so many questions.  The questions beget more questions and then I find myself calling friends who I think are “in the know”.  Each friend I have called does in fact know of cookie exchanges.  Yet, each one has given me different scenarios.  None can really answer my questions, such as: How large a container do I bring?  What if everyone else has large or odd shaped cookies and they don’t fit in my container?  I have cookie exchange anxiety.  The words “Cookie Exchange” peer back at me from my calendar.  It is scheduled for next week.  I don’t cook.  I don’t bake.  I don’t have flour in my house.  Clearly, it doesn’t appear likely that I will be participating in the exchange.  The obstacles in my way are too great.  Yet, I’m oddly intrigued.  I even feel left out in advance.  Secretly, I want to just go and see what it is and not have to participate.  Or, maybe a friend will be like, “Hey, Liz, you wanna take a dozen cookies?  I can’t possibly take three dozen home especially with Artie on Atkins and all.”  Maybe I can be an “alternate” at the cookie exchange?  Taking the unwanted dozens and half dozens from my friends and acquaintances.  How can I pitch that to the host?  Is that even appropriate?  I mean, I could offer to be an alternate cookie-taker and sign a release that I’m fully aware I may not get any cookies.  Right?  Is that being fun and creative or just being annoying and freaky?

Choosing between the good and the paycheck

Today I got an offer for a job.  One that would come with both a good paycheck and the professional status I have been seeking.  But I hesitate.  I already have a good job.  But my present job does not come with either a paycheck or the title that gets me recognized in my field. 

“Oh! You’re a personal chef to such and such celebrity!! Tell me more!” or “How nice, you run your school’s garden, voluntarily.  Oh, and you’re a stay-at-home mom.”  Enter silence with unspoken preconceived notions of “stay-at-home mom”.  I know what they are thinking but no matter how much I explain all that I do, all that is heard is the “stay-at-home mom” part.  Even in my own mind, all I can hear is failure.

I’ve tried to convince myself that I am satisfied with what I do, being available for every school activity and event, running the garden twice a week, organizing the going-ons of the PTA, and having time to myself to exercise, visit with friends, and alone time.  But in the back of my mind, I think about my unpaid student loan, my degree going to waste, my lack of professional status, and dwindling self-worth.  How can I call myself a chef if I don’t even work as one? 

I love what I do, I love working with urban kids who need the garden and one-on-one attention.  I love being able to spend the day at school, organizing and helping out.  I love that I can take off on a moments notice, for a road trip or vacation.  I love that look on my kid’s face, that look of pride and admiration, when I do a lesson in their class.  I love seeing kids around the neighborhood, smile and say hi to me because I touched their lives in some way.

The Busted Claus(e)

 

My husband wanted to be proactive – not reactive - about the truth. Our oldest son will be ten in March. The identities of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny have been revealed and dealt with. He felt it was time to have “the talk” with our son. No, no, no---not that talk – the precursor to that talk --- the one about ‘Big Red,’ ‘St. Nick,’ you know (whisper), Santa. Did he have my blessing?

I believe I heaved an audible sigh, because as much as I could see his point, I also saw it as a beginning of the end to my son’s innocence.  That said - I did give my consent with the conditions that he did not tell his younger brother or discuss it with anyone at school.    Then, I cried for a half an hour as I replayed all my memories of him with Santa in my head.  No.  Not really.  I was sad though.  I know my son.  As much as he wants to gather information and grow up, he also wants to hang onto the familiar comforts of childhood. 

Soccer Mom and Proud of It

A few years ago, one of my college girlfriends got married and the night before, when I picked up a few of our other friends in my Suburban to go to the rehearsal dinner, one of the women remarked, "I never would have guessed that Erin would become a soccer mom."  I laughed it off, but I was offended - how dare she say something like that!  My kids were still toddlers then, and I had no intention whatsoever to make them play any sport, least of all soccer. 

Well, times change and as our kids grow up, so do we.  As my girls' friends started playing AYSO soccer, we realized that we could give it a try, see if they like it.  No pressure.  Just an experiment, really.  I'd never played team sports as a young girl, even though my brother had played baseball and football, and my kids didn't seem to have an opinion on, but it was worth a shot. Still, we had no idea what to expect.

That first season, I would have missed the registration deadline were it not for the happy accident of knowing the AYSO region's registrar, who happened to be a mom in my oldest daughter's class.  She helped me through the process of completing forms, making copies of birth certificates, and filling out volunteer forms that seemed to commit our whole family to a three-month period of servitude.  It seemed excessive, but the registrar assured me, "Wait and see, you'll love it.  I call it our neighborhood's 'front porch' because you see everybody you know on the field on Saturdays."

Students can you spare a dime?

On the way out the door this morning, my oldest two kids stopped in their tracks.

"It's Jamba Juice Wednesday! Moooooom can I have two dollars?" (fundraiser #1)

I pointed at the change jar.

"Scrounge what you can, kids."

"Here's my book fair wish list for the book fair today, Mommy!" announced my kindergartener. "Can I get all these books? Pleeeeeeeease?!"  (fundraiser #2).

A cursory glance at the scholastic catalog had me guesstimating the total was between $40-$50.

"Maybe pick one book, buddy," I suggested, knowing full well his two other school age sibs would be presenting me with their own lists before the week was through.

This was a lot of fundraiser before 8 am, but we were just getting rolling.

Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done: A Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Club

Who are those people who spend so much time with our kids every day at school? We are often so wrapped up in parenthood, that we take those who engage in teacherhood for granted. Join us as Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers talk about Phillips Done's latest book Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind. 

• Michele from Silicon Valley Moms Blog leads us off to the middle of nowhere and the road to everywhere
• Bonggamom from Finding Bonggamom asks what do you get your child's teacher for Christmas?
• Leticia from Tech Savvy Mama gives us a list of the best gifts for teachers (by a teacher!)
• Melanie from Tales from the Crib values those who have been gifted
• Stacy from Fabulous Miss S remembers some of her favorite teachers 
• Heidi from Coast 2 Coast Mom warns what's said at home doesn't stay at home
• Julie from Just Precious still has her teacher mode
• Jill from Musings from Me says third-grade has been pivotal for her children
• Aimee from Smiling Mama talks about amazing teachers
• Rebecca from Life With Boys does a tribute to teachers
• Chefdruck from Chefdruck Musings moves on to planning for career #12
• Max from The French Mommy Born in California gets "a little inspiration" 
• Jessica from It's My Life remembers visiting a new school
• Linsey from Me Too You talks about the messys and the tiddys
• Erica from wellthoughtoutspot shares her reflections of a public school newbie
• Nicole from Not Just a Working Mom sometimes just has to laugh
• Akemi from Chalk and Cheese meets the world in fourth grade
• Robyn from Who's the Boss describes what a third grade teacher shouldn't be
• Kimberly from Tippy Toes and Tantrums brings her daughter to her first author meet and greet
• Shanna from 3 Cute Kids sees the value of a great teacher
• Angela from Domestic Blitz sees a thimble full of hope

Mr. Done (rhymes with Phone!) gave us a special treat last week, doing a private reading and book signing with bloggers from Silicon Valley Moms Blog and some of our school-aged kids. He made us laugh, he made us cry. Thank you Mr. Done!

Silicon Valley Moms Blog is hosting the book club discussion this month. Please go here to leave a comment and join in the discussion.

Past Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

• This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Topper
• Do One Nice Thing by Debbie Tenzer
• Birth Day by Mark Sloan, M.D.
• What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller
• Testimony by Anita Shreve
  
• Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs
  
• Much to Your Chagrin by Suzanne Guilette
  
• It Started with Pop-Tarts by Lori Hanson
  
• Who By Fire by Diana Spechler
• The White Trash Moms Handbook by Michelle Lamar
• Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
• The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert W. Sears
• The Other Mother by Gwendolen Gross

Click here to read all about the Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Club.

This is not a paid for post. The publisher of this book did provide free copies to Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers to use for this book club.

Christmas Is Coming And I Am Getting Fat

I don't know about the goose that is suppose to be getting fat with Christmas, but I'm sure I'm out pacing it. Who was the genius who put Thanksgiving and Christmas so close together. Arghh.. and Halloween. Really, what chance do I have. (note: I'm writing this while eating caramel popcorn)

It's starts at the end of October with all those tiny Snickers. Then in November, Thanksgiving and it's unrelenting pies. Finally we come to Christmas which has both pies and tiny snickers, not to mention fudge. I feel like all I do from the end of October till the New Year is put things in my mouth that have next to no nutritional value. I try to rationalize my choices, but really, pecan pie for breakfast, there's just no excuse.

Call Me? Please? Yes, I am Begging You

So, the other night, I went out to this cafe to read an essay I’d written as part of an evening of storytelling which the cafe hosts on a weekly basis. In the past, several of my readings had gone well, meaning, people laughed in all the appropriate places. As a result, the couple who run the show, and I say that with no sarcasm, they really are lovely, decided to put me on last in the hopes of ending the night on a big BANG.

Well, they weren’t wrong to believe that I was up to the task since a good portion of my dating years also closed out with a big bang. However, I was never completely comfortable in that position, since the bang was rarely followed by a phone call inquiring as to my well being and my plans for that upcoming Saturday night.

The show had been running for close to two hours and the audience seemed to be pretty receptive. Finally, it was my turn. I had timed my piece at about eight minutes, including the pauses where I would have to wait for the laughter to die down. The maximum time permitted was exactly seven minutes and during the entire time I waited, I hoped I would be able to get through the entire essay.

Well, suffice it to say, in way less then eight minutes I was finished and stepping off the stage, feeling humiliated. There was barely a laugh to be heard. I think I even saw someone WITH TEARS IN THEIR EYES, and it wasn’t from too much giggling.

LAUSD Budget Cuts: What They're Not Telling Parents

Public schools are always at the mercy of public funding; we know this going in. And when the economy is not doing well, we also know that even education will be affected. But that doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

In September, due to budget cuts, all classrooms in Kinder - 3rd grades changed from having a maximum of 20 kids to having  24 kids per class, the rationale being it was saving millions of dollars for the district by requiring fewer teachers. And because there's still a budget shortfall looming over us of somewhere around $480 million more dollars, in February we're slated to go from 24 kids per class to 29. I think it'll go up to 40 per class for 4th and 5th grades. And that's just elementary school.

As a parent of children in LAUSD, I have a love-hate-hate relationship with our school district: I love the fact that I don't pay tuition and that it's open for all kids, but I've come to hate their rigid policies, their stubborn refusal to treat parents as equal partners, their sheer size, and the fact that they have their own language of acronyms which is incomprehensible to anyone but the insiders. PHBAO*, anyone?

But here's what I currently hate most of all: all those extra kids in each classroom aren't actually saving anybody a dime. Nope. The truth is, we're still paying all the teachers it would take to have 20 kids per classroom. And the same will be true if we really have to mash 29 kids into one classroom starting in February.