Chicago Moms Blog

It's the Gender Reveal Party!

Apparently a new trend among the parents-to-be set is the Gender Reveal Party.  Basically, it goes like this: the expectant mother has her 20-week ultrasound, and rather than asking the baby's sex, she asks the ultrasound tech to write the sex on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope.  This envelope is given to a baker, who bakes a cake in either blue or pink to correspond with the sex of the baby, then frosts the cake in a gender-neutral color to hide the color of the cake.  Then the parents-to-be host a big Gender Reveal Party for their family and friends, the culmination of which is the cutting of the cake and subsequent revelation of the baby's sex. 

Side note: Being properly trained in undergraduate social sciences, I have to point out that there is a difference between sex and gender.  Sex refers to a person's inborn male or female traits, which is what is revealed in an ultrasound.  Gender refers to the perception of masculine or feminine, which are socially-constructed concepts that vary by culture.  So, technically these parties are actually Sex Reveal parties, but I understand that such a term sounds creepy and inappropriate, and conjures up all kinds of unpleasant ideas.  I get why they are called Gender Reveal parties, and the name itself is not what I have a problem with.

I'm a sucker for "Can I sleep in your bed?"

There are nights--most nights, if I'm being totally honest--when I am counting down the minutes until my son's bedtime.  And the agony of the bedtime routine just seems to drag on and on and on, with the fight to put on pajamas and the 50 follow-up questions about the bedtime story.  Then, finally, that golden moment comes when my son can stall no longer and I put him into bed and ... I'm free! 

I head downstairs to spend some time with my DVR.  Glee, Parenthood, 30 Rock, Community ... all with a lovely background of "Moooooommmmmmmy!  I want youuuuuuuuu!" 

I repeatedly pause my show to head upstairs and deal with some combination of the following:

    "I'm too sick to sleep in my own bed!"
    "I'm too hot to sleep in my own bed!"
    "I'm too cold to sleep in my own bed!"
    "I need another snuggle!"
    "I want more milk!"
    "I want Daddy to check on me!"
    "I need to go in your bed!"

The popularity of Glee proves it: We all have inner geeks

As I type this, my husband is out of town attending his 20th high school reunion.  It is obvious that he had a much better time in high school than I did, because I have no desire to go to my high school reunions.  It isn't just that Facebook has rendered actual, in-person reunions totally obsolete.  It's also that I didn't really like high school and have no desire to re-live it for an evening. 

I wouldn't say my high school experience was awful.  I had friends, and I was involved in school activities.  Other than the typical teen angst, I would say that my mental health was relatively normal in high school.  I had a stable family, and we got along pretty well.  I didn't have any serious, after-school-special-type problems like substance abuse, teen pregnancy, or abusive family members. 

But, I always felt like I wasn't quite there in terms of being accepted by my peers.  I wasn't completely teased and ostracized, but I never got invited to parties either.  I was the classmate everybody wanted to come along when they needed help doing research at the library, because they could stand me long enough to work together and maybe have a post-study meal at Del Taco, but they weren't going to invite me to spend time with them on the weekends. 

The "selling stuff" party: Yay or nay?

At a recent playdate, a friend and I were complaining about "selling stuff" parties.  You know, those parties you get invited to, where you must endure a sales pitch for housewares, rubber stamps, jewelry, and so on? 

And then I got home from that very playdate to find an invitation to a Pampered Chef party. 

I agonized over what my RSVP would be. 

What I don't like about the selling stuff party is the feeling that I'm obligated to buy something.  Oh sure, there really is no obligation, but I think the social pressure is there.  I'm also a little miffed that selling stuff parties seem to be solely the domain of women, possibly because women tend to be better about picking up on these subtle social pressures.  I mean, could you imagine your husband coming home from a Saturday afternoon engagement and saying, "Well, I felt like I had to buy something at Bob's tool-selling party, since he bought all that stuff at my handcrafted beer and sausage party last month"? 

How I ended up selling my soul to the McDonald's Corporation

I have this acquaintance who normally resides in Vermont. She and her husband both have one-year fellowships in China, so this year they are living abroad with their two young daughters. This acquaintance recently lamented on Facebook about how her daughters had never eaten at McDonald's in their three- and four-year-long lives in the U.S., but had already eaten at McDonald's four times in the seven months they had been in China.

She made it seem like McDonald's was some kind of horrible last resort to be used only in foreign countries where the food is so unfamiliar that the next best option is starving.  And yet, here in America, my three-year-old and I have probably been to McDonald's four times in the last month.  And that's in an area where the Chinese food options consist of super familiar, Americanized dishes served in a place where it is assumed that your preferred eating utensil is a fork.  We could go there, but we go to McDonald's.

Let me explain. 

Like most parents, I hoped my child wouldn't become one of those kids who begged for McDonald's every time we passed the golden arches.  My anti-McDonald's stance wasn't even solely about nutrition, because I believe that a little fast food here and there isn't going to kill anyone.  It's just that, I preferred other take-out and fast-food restaurants to McDonald's.  As an adult, I'd kind of outgrown my taste for McDonald's.  

I'm missing the "freak out about education" gene

The other day I was talking to a friend of mine, who was telling me about her recent visit to a potential future elementary school for her now three-year-old. This friend is very hard-core in her school search. It seems that she plans on checking out every private school within a 20-mile radius, and she and her husband are even willing to move to be closer to the school they eventually choose.  Well, I should say she plans on checking out every private school that agrees with her educational philosophy, which seems to favor a very traditional, academically-rigorous curriculum and teaching style. 

I have other friends who place a very high value on the exact opposite type of school philosophy, the child-centered, play-based, learn-at-your-own pace model.  Those friends are looking at Montessori and progressive schools. 

I'm the mom with only one kid

Some women spend their youths swearing they want a big family and then change their minds after having their first. Others swear they never want any kids, then fall in love with motherhood and end up with three.

Me, I always knew I wanted two kids. Two kids was the perfect number, I reasoned. I only have two hands. There are two adults in my house. And I prefer to drive compact cars that only have room for two carseats.

What I definitely knew I didn't want, though, was an only child. In my days of teaching elementary school, I found that the parents of only children were more problematic, and that the onlies themselves were self-centered and weird.

And yet here I am, with an only child.

Snowflaking

snowflake / snoʊˌfleɪk / verb, snowflaked, snowflak-ing
    to fail to honor a previous commitment because of weather-related     conditions
   
    Example: She was supposed to go to Starbucks with her friend, but she totally snowflaked after 6 inches of snow fell overnight. 

    Origin: Term invented by a stay-at-home mom in the south suburbs of Chicago to describe her life in January. 

At the end of last January as I prepared to turn my calendar to February, I noticed there were an unusual number of cross-outs and reschedulings in the previous 31 days.  It seemed like every playdate and activity got canceled because of a snowstorm or a don't leave the house unless you absolutely have to warning. 

Maybe we could just ban gift-giving altogether

Yesterday one of my friends told me that, due to financial concerns, she wasn't buying gifts for anybody this year.  Throughout the course of our conversation, however, she revealed that she had been buying some "gifts" for herself this season, which made her feel guilty for telling her relatives that she had no money to buy anything for them. 

"Why?" I asked.  "It makes more sense to buy for yourself because then you know you'll get something you want." 

I know, I know, 'tis better to give than receive and all that.  Except, perhaps this old adage only applies to children and charities these days. 

I always say the ideal family holiday gift exchange would involve a setup whereupon each adult family member was assigned a set dollar amount, say $50, to spend on him- or herself.  People could spend it on anything, from shoes to an oil change.  Then on the day of the family holiday gathering, each person would bring in some representation of how he or she spent the money.  It could be a picture, a Power Point presentation, or the item itself.  Or whatever.  And then everybody would take turns sharing, and when the other family members oohed and ahhed about the gift, they would do so honestly knowing that the gift was enjoyed. 

Why yes, I will be hanging out at a rest stop this winter

Despite our ridiculously fortunate weather this November, it seems winter is, in fact, going to come this year.  Which means it's time to start thinking about indoor play areas again. 

We have our usual hangouts.  There's the mall, which has a playground, carousel, and Thomas train for my son, and a beautiful collection of retail splendor for me.  And while the playground is free and the rides are a mere $2 each, the mall usually comes with a hidden price tag in the form of a shoe purchase or some poor junk food choice from the food court. 

The library is another excellent winter hangout.  It's one of my favorite places, but there are only so many times you can go there before the librarians start to look at you funny. 

We have memberships at Brookfield Zoo and the Shedd Aquarium, both great winter hangouts.  And there are lots of free days in the winter at the Field Museum and the Museum of Science and Industry.  Plus there are places designed specifically for indoor play, such as Day Frog, Fantasy Kingdom, Hobbitland, and Room 2 Play.  There are several children's museums and inflatable playlands.  And the list of indoor play areas goes on and on ... gosh, I love Chicago! 

But the thing is, all of those places are kind of a big production for us to visit.  I live in the suburbs, so anywhere in the city is a major drive.  And even if you live nearby, there's the pricey entrance fee at a lot of these places.  Some of them have irritating parking situations, or it's frustrating to get to them on public transit.  And a lot of these places are overwhelming, since they are filled to the brim with children trying to let out pent-up energy, and you're schlepping around a pile of winter clothing in a place where the heat is on full-blast.