Chicago Moms Blog

Bedtimes and Blackhawks

My husband and I have always insisted on early bedtimes for our children.  These days, for example, my three year old -- who has recently sworn off his afternoon nap -- is in bed by 7 pm, and my six year old turns her light off at 8:15 pm.  We stick to this schedule pretty religiously regardless of weekends or holidays.  I'm not sure how we become such bedtime fanatics; I suspect it has to do with reading Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, the famous sleep training book by Chicago pediatrician Marc Weissbluth, while we were still new parents and therefore impressionable. By now, of course, we recognize that early bedtimes are not only good for our children; they are also equally good for us as parents -- specifically parents who like to have time to themselves in the evenings.

But as my daughter has gotten older, we have started to make some exceptions to our early bedtime rule for special occasions.  She is not a baby any more and we know that she won't turn into a Gremlin if she is allowed to stay up past 9 pm.  When my brother-in-law got married last fall, for example, and Zuzu fulfilled her lifelong dream of being a flower girl, we told her that she could stay up as late as she wanted at the wedding. She was an absolutely perfect wedding guest -- if you include dancing on stage with the band as acceptable wedding guest behavior -- until 11 pm when she declared herself done and asked to go to bed. 

In Defense of the Babysitter

We all know parents who refuse to leave their kids with babysitters. Some say that they are afraid of child abuse and cite horrific stories from the news. Others worry that a sitter will not be able to handle their children: What if the baby won’t stop crying? What if the toddler has a bad dream? What if the pre-teen asks what “sexting” is?

The trouble is, it is actually important to let someone else take your kids to the park, or put them to bed every once in a while. For one thing, parents need to go out by themselves for the sake of their relationships and for their own mental health. I can always tell when it has been a while since my husband and I had a “date night’ -- and yes, I am weary of that hackneyed phrase -- because we are more irritable with each other. I can only imagine how much single parents need a chance to get out and be with their friends, or to go on a date. While I think that is reason enough to get a babysitter – and I am not alone in this -- there’s actually another reason why babysitters are important: It is good for kids to experience being taken care of by people other than their parents.

A babysitter will not feed your kids or put them to bed exactly the same way you do, and that is a good thing. By spending time with a sitter, kids learn that different people have different ways of doing things and that they can adjust accordingly. Being flexible and learning to adapt to new situations is an important skill for any kid to learn. In elementary school, for example, kids will have to get used to lots of different teachers, and sometimes, out of the blue, they will even have a substitute whom they have never laid eyes on before. Kids who can “roll with the punches,” as my daughter’s kindergarten teacher used to tell her, are better prepared for these situations.

An Either/Or Proposition?

This week President Obama nominated Elena Kagan, the Solicitor General and former Dean of Harvard Law School, to replace Justice John Paul Stevens on the Supreme Court.  As a female lawyer, I was happy that the President chose this brilliant, accomplished woman to be his candidate for the country’s highest court.  Assuming that Solicitor General Kagan is confirmed by the Senate, for the first time there will be three sitting female Supreme Court justices.  That still does not reflect the percentage of women in the country, or even in the legal profession, but it is an improvement and I will gladly accept it as such.

But as I watched Solicitor General Kagan speak to the press after the President’s eloquent introduction, and heard her thank her brothers for coming to support her on this momentous occasion, I could not help but contrast this scene with the one when President Bush announced  John Roberts as his Supreme Court nominee.  Do you remember it?  What stands out about that scene, for me, was Justice Roberts’s two small children frolicking in front of the podium.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

This Sunday, when my mom friends are having their well-deserved massages and brunches, I will probably be doing my usual Sunday morning run to Starbucks and Whole Foods.  The afternoon will be pretty typical too.  No flowers.  No gifts.  And no unhappiness either.  You see, I don’t do Mother’s Day.  It’s just not important to me.

Part of the reason for my disinterest in Mother’s Day is because I didn’t grow up with it as a big occasion.  My own mother never cared about Mother Day’s, declaring it a made-up holiday.  (She is not a particularly sentimental woman, my mother.  I have inherited that trait from her.  My husband is the marshmallow in our family.)  My parents bought presents and sent flowers to their mothers, who did care, but my father never got my mother a present – after all, she wasn’t his mother.  And my brother and I were not expected to get presents for our mother either.  I remember, as a teenager, being relieved that I did not have to find a perfect gift for my mother or get dragged to an extended family brunch upon pain of grounding, like many of my friends.  My mom is an intellectual! An English professor!  Caring about Mother’s Day is so not her thing.

Don't worry: I'm a Professional

Last Sunday, I brought my daughter to Hebrew school.  That particular morning, I was wearing yoga pants, no make-up and my (unwashed) hair was pulled back in a barrette.  Another mother, who has known me for three years, saw me and did a double-take.  "I almost didn't recognize you!" she exclaimed.  I must have looked puzzled because she quickly added, "You're usually so put-together."

Really?  You almost didn’t recognize me without make-up?  Am I that vain?  It’s true that, unless I am on my way to the gym, I try to wear a nice outfit, at least some make-up and have my curly hair coiffed.  I don’t dress up -- I am a stay-at-home-mom, after all.  I usually wear jeans, but I always try to look somewhat fashionable and put-together.

While I do love clothes, there is actually something more going on here.  My outfits, the make-up – it’s not just about vanity.  It’s that I am desperately trying to hold onto my adult self, even while most of my day is spent with children.  You see, I used to be a lawyer.  I was First Team All Ann Taylor.  I ate lunch in restaurants and went to meetings and carried an expensive handbag.  I was a professional.

My Magic Number is Two

Everyone who has spent time with me and my husband lately has heard our joking banter about having another baby.  This doesn’t quite capture how utterly hilarious it is, but, to sum up: I want one; he doesn’t.

All joking aside, we do not plan to add to our family – unless you count a new Betta fish to replace the one that died this morning.  My husband is quite serious when he says that he is happy with our family just as it is.  But while I understand my husband’s position, I have a hard time accepting that my days of parenting a baby are over.

My husband’s arguments against having another baby make all the sense in the world.  We have two healthy children – one of each sex, even.  If we had another baby, we would need a bigger car, a bigger house; it would make traveling harder; it would make everything harder.  But what seals the deal for my husband is this: at 6 and 3, our children have stopped being babies and are now kids.  They sleep through the night.  They go to school.  We are just about done with diapers.  We are no longer beholden to nap schedules.  We are within striking distance of a time when our children could, say, wake up on a Saturday morning and not need one of us to get up with them.  Having come this far, my husband doesn't have it in him to go back to dealing with a baby's constant needs.

The Next Generation of Music Lovers

As the last notes of the Overture to Mozart’s “The Impresario” faded away, my first grader leaned over to me and whispered, “That’s called diminuendo, Mommy.”

No, my daughter is not a music prodigy.  She is, however, a music lover, and very knowledgeable for a girl of her age.  Not only can she explain diminuendo and crescendo, but she can name all 104 instruments in the orchestra and in what family they each belong.  She can tell you which instruments are the highest and which are the lowest, which instruments sit where in the orchestra and the difference between 3/4 and 4/4 time.  How did she learn of all this?  It was a combination of music lessons, a great elementary school music program and taking advantage of Chicago’s best cultural opportunities.