LA Moms Blog

June Gloom

One thing I'd hoped for when the clouds settled over Los Angeles during early June mornings was cool.  The weather has been so wacky the last few weeks - there was an unseasonable chill in the air and a grey cast over the sky, and then WHAM!  Heat wave.  I knew that June Gloom would save us, but this week, as I walk my son to school, I become drenched in sweat despite the usual June cloud cover.  It's no longer a dry heat here in the valley, it's the hazy, hot, and humid I remember from my Connecticut youth.

Adding to the gloom is the closing of the private school where my son attends Pre-K.  First Lutheran School has been open for 60 years.  Most recently it included grades Kindergarten through 8, and families could look forward to their kids growing up there.  It was a relatively small community, with generations of students sending their own kids to the school.  In fact, my son's teacher and the preschool director both attended when they were kids.

The Telltale Hole

My child made me angry.  So angry I put him in a time out.  He wouldn't go willingly, choosing to stomp out of his room while making a face of extreme displeasure, kind of like the Incredible Hulk during his transformation.  He was just as angry as I was.

I put him back into his room several times.  This had become a power struggle instead of a teaching moment.  Whatever he had done paled in comparison to the disobedience he was showing me now.  I was determined to win.  In my frenzied state I overlooked what was really happening:  I was locked in a battle of wills with a 3-year-old.  The only reason I was winning was because I was bigger.

Reason was lost on me as the child continued to defy me.  One last time, I put him back in his room and shouted "Stay in here!  Three minutes!"  I shut the door and walked away.

Ten seconds later I heard the sounds of destruction coming from his room.  He was trashing it.  I stomped down the hallway and threw open the door with a bang.

And the door stuck to the wall.

Mother's Day Reflection

Last year for Mother's Day my husband and my father took my two little boys to the beach.  They stayed all day.  I had the house to myself for 8 hours in a row.

I was relieved by the quiet, the release of responsibility, the hours of solitude that stretched out before me.  Although motherhood is a lot of hard work, it's supposed to be ultimately rewarding, isn't it?  I wasn't feeling that way. During the months previous, I had been wound up tightly, concerned and overwhelmed by the normal pressures of life, and the stress was only exacerbated by my loud, squabbly children.  I found that they vexed me more than they overjoyed me.  When I pulled into the driveway after work, I steeled myself for the onslaught of arguing and frustration.  My way of handling it was to plow through until bedtime, and then I could relax.

The Blackberry Mom

In this essay, the part of "Blackberry" will be played by "iPhone."

The reason I am weighing in to beat this long-dead horse is this:  my 3-year-old recently discovered that if he shuts my laptop while I am in the middle of working, he will get me to pay attention to him.  I know this has happened to many of you already, and I was secretly smug in my belief that I had not let it get that bad, that I focus on my children when I am with them, that I put their needs and their entertainment and their "Mommy Time" before work, emails, or the latest stupid YouTube video.  Alas, I am as addicted to multitasking as the next plugged-in mother, and I needed that wake-up call.

The recent USA Today article that publicized the MIT study about work-at-home moms (WAHMs) and their quantity over quality time with their children ruffled a few feathers.  As blogger Amy Zimmerman put it, "When do we, as a culture, spend more time, energy and studies aimed at helping families earn a living and strike a balance instead of criticizing the way in which they do so?"  I agree with her wholeheartedly, and I abhor the way media attempts to stir controversy often center on the so-called "Mommy Wars," which really wouldn't even exist but for the people who write books and go on talk shows to create them.

I'm not here to criticize anyone's parenting, but I do want to share my little story because even though it was harmless, it could have been something much worse. 

Fifth Birthday Flashback

I forgot to buy juice.

As I packed up the Star Wars paper plates, napkins, and cups with the chocolate cupcakes I baked and frosted and sprinkled last night between 10PM and midnight before collapsing to bed after almost falling asleep at the keyboard, I realized I forgot to buy juice.

"Oh no," I thought, that familiar sinking-feeling weighing down my gut, "this will ruin his birthday party at school!  His first birthday party at school!  WHAT HAVE I DONE?!"

And then I took a deep breath, talked some sense into myself, and believed that it would all be okay.  After all, it's his 5th birthday.  Not mine.

((Ripple the screen, play dreamy music, cue flashback))

School Tour Expert

Go ahead, add it to my resume.  In the last few weeks I have toured nine public schools in the districts of the Los Angeles area, one of them a junior high.  Sure, my kid is only 5 and about to enter Kindergarten, but I like to be prepared. 

I've visited so many schools because our family is moving, specifically to ensure attendance in a good elementary school.  In a city so packed with people, every house that has piqued our interest was located in a different school neighborhood, and you can bet I must see the school before I would go forward with a home purchase.  Test scores are helpful in sizing them up, but there's nothing like a physical visit to get the general vibe.

There are many moms around here who have gone before me and they've really been around the block.  Many times.  I listen to their stories with undivided attention, hoping to glean nuggets of wisdom that will help me steer my children through the Byzantine maze of Los Angeles Unified School District to the other side where hopefully they have learned and grown into responsible, sharp young men.  Some of the stories, however, have made me feel the "flight" response instead, which is why I drive over to the Conejo valley to check out schools in the Las Virgenes Unified School District.

Talking Money With Suze Orman

Four years ago when my first child was 11 months old, I started to draft wills for me and my husband using estate planning software.  I got as far as the page where I was to designate a guardian for my son, and at that point I dissolved into unproductive tears and gave up on the project, vowing to return to it once I got control of my emotions.  To this day, "draft a will" is still on my to-do list.  So when Suze Orman came to town, I got a little nervous.

CA Moms Must Get Will and Trust! from Kim Prince on Vimeo.

In January 2010, Suze came to Los Angeles to shoot a bunch of different television appearances and a series of videos for one of her websites.  Because she is so intent on helping women get control of their financial lives, Los Angeles Moms Blog was invited to meet with her.

The Perfect Journey

Think about the last perfect moment you had - that you noticed. They're different for each of us, and indeed each of us has a variety of different kinds of perfect moments. As I type this, I am experiencing one - sitting on a lounge chair under an umbrella by the pool atop the cliffs of Pismo Beach. I look out over the Pacific Ocean gleaming in the sun. A cool breeze sways the bright green tops of the nearby palm trees, passes over me with its fresh scent. The sun warms my bare feet.  A dear friend sits to my right, enjoying the same thing. Our massages begin in 15 minutes. Later we'll go out to dinner and resume the non-stop talking we began yesterday when our "girlfriend getaway" commenced. Maybe we'll go shopping. Who cares? It'll be perfect.

Brad Pitt once said "Life is about getting from one perfect moment to another."  I believe I read that in an article about him in 1996.  I'm not holding Brad Pitt up as some kind of prophetical sage, but I do remember his declaration because it was around that time that I first noticed a perfect moment as it was happening.  I was lounging on a comfortable leather couch, sipping wine, while my date read poetry to me from a book.  Simple, content.  I only dated that guy for a few months, and he didn't leave any profound lasting impressions on me, but that moment taken by itself was perfect, to me.  And Pitt's statement popped into my mind, urging me to pay attention.

Over the years that kind of clarity has only occurred to me a few dozen times.  I've certainly had many of what I would consider perfect moments, but realizing it at the time?  That's not so common.  What I have held onto, though, is the journey.

When Bloggers Leave the House, They Have To Wear Pants

I started blogging in 2004 "since you had to chisel your thoughts into rocks that were just shaped like computers."  Nobody knew what a blog was, and we bloggers perched on the edge of our desk chairs and a new wave of communication and media.  I was pregnant with my first child, unemployed, alone in my house all day while my husband and all my friends were at work.  Little did I know that free time like that would become an elusive pipe dream only months into the future.  At the time, however, it was my prison.  Bloated and exhausted, unable to do much toward the end of my pregnancy, I turned to the internet, as so many women have done in the years since I first started House of Prince.  Through my blog I could connect with the outside world without ever changing out of my comfy, comfy pajamas.

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!?"