New Jersey Moms Blog

Keep it movin'!

What is it about seeing someone standing outside her home that makes people want to beep when they drive by, or even worse, stop to have a full-length conversation?  I live on a busy street and this happens to me EVERY time I'm outside. I take care of virtually all of the outdoor maintenance - mowing, raking, weeding, etc.  There is nothing more annoying than trying to mow a lawn and getting interrupted because someone feels the need to pull over for some small talk.  Do these people not realize that I have limited time?  I'm constantly fightin' the clock. Every minute of the kids' naptime is accounted for. 

Last week, I had the lawn mower out.  I had mowed two measly paths before I had to drop everything because a neighbor wanted to "shoot the breeze" for an hour.  There's one repeat offender who has actually forced me to change my schedule when it comes to outdoor maintenance.   I now do most of it during the kids' weekday naps.  It has gotten so bad that occassionally I mow after dark!

From Babe to Boy With One Foot Out The Door

My son is sleeping and I wish I could freeze time for a moment. It's so peaceful, listening to the soft whisper of his breathing and looking at his oh-so innocent slumbering face. It's as if for a moment, time is standing still. Despite this tug on my heartstrings, I'm not and have never been much of a sentimental mom. I know that I should be tackling my to-dos right now. I know that this is my only opportunity to write for my blog today, and I think back to how efficient I was with my time when he was a babe and slept for only 45 minutes at a time. I could tackle a days-worth of home-bound activities in those nuggets of naptime!

My son stopped napping at 2 1/2 - the time of our last cross-country move and when his usual daycare routine was thrown for staying home with me while I settled us in, explored North Jersey, and worked from home. I know that today's rare mid-day nap means I'm going to suffer in a few hours when he'll want to stay up later than usual. I know as soon as he wakes up he'll resume pestering me with questions and comments and this melodramatic feeling will quickly pass. I know all of these things. But I can't shake this momentary fascination with him.

Louisa May and Me

My childhood was not one that could be described as easy or carefree, but there were some great things about it. One of those was that both my parents read to me. A lot.

Even after they split up when I was just 3, they kept reading to me, whether I was in the countryside with my dad, or in the city with my mom. They both shared their love of language and stories and imagination. (Of course, that shared love of literature meant I didn't understand why some books were off limits. When my mom told me I couldn't read Upton Sinclair's The Jungle because I was only about 8, she later caught me reading it in the living room closet with a flashlight. But that's another story, one that also includes the books Jaws and Rosemary's Baby.)

Another, less gruesome, less graphic novel that made a big impression on me was Little Women.

What Happened to the Girl I Married?: Join us for Silicon Valley Moms Group's next Book Club on Friday, July 17th

Let's face it - sometimes a couple's relationship changes once they have kids. Join us Friday, July 17th as we discuss the book What Happened to the Girl I Married by Michael Miller and talk about what we think happened for our next book club.

About What Happened to the Girl I Married (from the author's website): In What Happened to the Girl I Married?, Miller steps out of his corporate executive job and into his wife’s uncomfortable shoes at home. With no staff or administrative assistants to support him, Miller’s “ah hah moments” begin on day one and become more profound with each step down the path. Through his journey, Miller offers a new found appreciation for the tireless efforts of stay-at-home mothers and clues as to why women might lose themselves in the job. For the men they married, Miller lets them connect with his evolution through humor, man-isms and motivations for change that are hard to resist.

In his journey to enlightenment in What Happened to the Girl I Married?, through both laughter and tears, Miller provides readers with:

• A revealing perspective on the job of a stay-at-home parent and appreciation for it’s unique challenges
  (from a man who never had it)
• Creative imagery and colorful examples to help communicate the job’s complexities and the feelings they can generate that are sometimes hard to put into words
• A non-threatening way for the partner of the stay-at-home parent to examine how their words and actions might be contributing to a loss of self worth and identity
• Ideas for small, manageable changes that can have a big impact on the relationship, and how the stay-at-home parent feels about themselves and their job
• A simple terminology that both partners can use to help get their love affair back on track and keep it that way

What Happened to the Girl I Married? is an honest and enlightening love story that’s funny and thought-provoking throughout. The story’s messages help heal old wounds and offer both partners a language to get back on a loving path together – and stay on it.

Read along with us: Buy your copy of the book today and get ready to discuss with us on Friday, July 17th. See you at book club!

Past Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

• 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

Read along with us: Buy your copy of the book today and get ready to discuss with us on Friday, July 17th. See you at book club!

Past Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

• 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

Apparently I Expand To Double My Size at David's Bridals

"Look at your BIG BELLY, Mom!" my 3 year old is loudly yelling, smacking my stomach playfully as I lay semi-conscious in my bed at 6:45 this morning. Ah, just what I want to hear before my first cup of coffee. Or, like, ever.

My 5 year old is on the other side of me, laughing while lifting up my T-shirt. "EEEEWWWWW. What happened to your belly button, Mom?" she teases.  "You and your sisters" I reply truthfully.

Since I was laying slightly to my side, the loose skin on my belly was nice and wrinkled up, looking strangely like an elephant's knee and rendering my belly button into a slit. This is what happens when you're a former size 2 who carries and gives birth to 4 bowling balls children. Though I have no stretch marks and have worked very hard to get (almost) back to my pre-baby weight and size, my tummy skin just hasn't bounced back. It's not noticeable when I'm standing erect or laying suspine.  But any other position is flab city.  Who cares, right? Riiiiiiiight. Not me... *sniff/sob/sigh*

Now that I'm feeling really hot and confident, I go to David's Bridal to try on and order my bridesmaid dress for my brother-in-law's wedding.

I Have a New Child In My Life, His Name is Only Me

I used to have a sweet little boy named Tyler, but a couple of months ago, around age two-and-a-half, he went away.  A boy named Only Me took his place. 

It's been difficult living with Only Me.  Only Me does not need my help in dressing himself, trying to put together or fix a toy, or getting into his highchair.  And Only Me certainly does not need my help in any matters of toilet training or hygiene.  This would be okay, except Only Me often puts two legs in one opening in his pull-up, or has one of his butt cheeks hanging out.  Sometimes, Only Me does not know which way his penis is supposed to lay in his pull-up, causing him to get an unwanted shower of pee pee on his stomach, chest, or even in his face.

Michael had Children; Remember That

Michael Jackson has always been a media darling. And his death, oh my Lord, has been a ratings bonanza not seen since the Pope's death. It's been a media circus, even more so than his 2005 child molestation trial. And I'm in the media, so I can say such things without being accused of being biased. He has been a bizarre, tortured, mystery figure surrounded in bizarre, tortured mystery for at least the last 10 years. It's been so hard to separate fact from fiction, and Michael was never one to help us separate it. Take his trial, for example. He laughed and giggled on the stand, for God's sake. As if he knew something we didn't. We still don't, and now we never will. But, as a mom, as I sit in the newsroom and write stories about his death and the various scandals and headlines, my mind settles on the kids.

Why is it that children get all the praise when potty training?

Why is it that children get all the praise when potty training?  New toys are awarded by grandparents for potty prowess.  Spontaneous outbursts of cheers can be heard in bathrooms across America when a toddler relieves themselves on the toilet.  High fives are handed out like they are going out of style when number two is found in the potty and not in the diaper.  Admiration is constantly bestowed on the potty goer but what about the actual trainer?  When do I get my share of the praise?  When will someone tell me "good job"? 

Don't get me wrong.  My son is doing a stellar job at this potty-thing, but how do you think he got to be so good? It wasn't like a potty training fairy came down from above and with one wave of her magic toilet bowl brush my child was diaper free. While that fantasy would have been nice, very nice actually, it is just that -- a fantasy.  Nor did my son just wake up one day and say, "hey, Mom and Dad these diapers are so pedestrian, so beneath me. Next time, you are at the store pick me up some big boy underwear - I am so over diapers," and with that turned on his heel headed to the bathroom with a copy of War and Peace. No, not that either.  How my son got to his mighty throne is from the blood, sweat and tears my husband and I have put in to make him the Potty King.  While I am not looking for a shiny, new toy truck for my hard work, I am looking for a little acknowledgment when I am cleaning the poop up from the bathroom floor that has missed the toilet completely.  I think I at least deserve a pat on the back after that humbling task. 

One and Done, Two and Through, What's it to you?

I am the mother of three strapping boys.  One that is my natural child and two that are mine from my husband's first marriage.  Although I did not give birth to those children or carry them for nine excruciating months (I am not a happy pregnant person) I love those children no differently than I love my natural son.

How Pop Culture Ruins My Parenting

Let's have some fun, this beat is sick.  I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.

"Ummm....Mom?  Shelby* said that 'disco stick' is the same as penis."

My 9 year old daughter informs me after a school end celebration.

"Uh huh.  Well, um.  What did you say?  Rather, what do YOU think?"

"I think Shelby was being inappropriate."

New Jersey & You: Delicious Together

I love food. I freakin’ love it. I love to eat it, talk about it, read about it, write about it, photograph it, admire it, and think about it. (Ironically, I take not an ounce of pleasure in cooking it.) And so it was my tremendous pleasure to be chosen to ride along on the Star-Ledger’s Munchmobile this year, to sample a fat slice of Jersey cuisine.

I don’t think too many people think of New Jersey as a foodie destination, except for those of us who move elsewhere and spend all our time dreaming of our favorite pizza slices, Taylor ham, egg and cheese sandwiches, or late-night diner dish-ups. But for the past 12 years, the Star-Ledger has run this wonderfully overstuffed concept:

Not In My Backyard

Some days - like today - I wonder why I still live in New Jersey.  I know every state has their issues with government and overpopulation, but I am still surprised when it happens in my own backyard.  Come to find out, something as innocent and wholesome as a day camp for kids is under threat from greedy local government looking to make a quick buck.  Today I found out that the summer camp we are sending our daughter to is in jeopardy of becoming a run-off drain for a huge tractor trailer warehouse complex.

This is the first year my husband and I have been able to send our daughter to camp, and I took on an extra part-time job to do it.  Having our daughter go to camp is extremely important to me.  Getting her out of the house, playing in the sunshine, drawing in the dirt with sticks - and building lifelong friendships with other children - I believe is paramount to her childhood. Growing up I spend five nights at a sleepover camp and those memories and experiences founded an incredible love of nature and the outdoors that I hold with me 30 years later.  More kids need that nowadays, especially with the increase in technology and over scheduling our kids are subjected to.  Sometimes sitting on the dock with a friend and dipping your toes in the lake is just what childhood needs.

Creepy Carnival Worker

Last weekend, Becca, my mother-in-law and I headed to a local carnival for a few hours of fun.  It was pretty typical with a Ferris wheel, a tilt-a-whirl, a few kiddie rides and various other attractions.  They even had one of Becca's favorite rides, the Dizzy Dragons.  Our plan was to walk around a little, ride a few rides and end the night with popcorn. 

In our quick tour of the fairgrounds, Becca was fascinated by the Rapid Slide so we stopped to watch for awhile. As we were watching the kids go down the slide, the carnival worker minding the ride came up to us and started commenting on how beautiful Becca was. I thanked him politely and moved onto the next attraction.

What mom wants is a nightgown

I'm hard to buy gifts for. This is no secret. The truth is that, while I love gifts - I also have a hard time receiving them. I've always been this way and it is just the way I am. But, the problem has gotten significantly worse over the years. And, after this latest birthday I believe I am headed on my way to becoming a better receiver. Credit and thanks go to my four year old.

As a mother, I try to teach my children to be generous givers and gracious receivers. Yet, I seem to be unable to do the same for myself.  Always one to blame myself, (I have a martyr complex)  this time I refuse to do so entirely.  Well, I will take partial responsibility for this but I am here and now going to rat out my partner in crime.

I blame my Amazon.com wishlist.