Ohio Moms Blog

A Break From Being Mom

The day started out like any other. My husband got up early like he always does, shortly followed by our two daughters, both early risers like him. Later, I stumbled downstairs to the sounds of my girls laughing, yelling and fighting all within the same minute. They immediately saw me and came running, each taking turns sitting on my lap and cuddling with me.

But then an hour later, I waved goodbye as they left for the day. My husband was going to visit friends and taking our daughters with him, giving me the day to myself. "I'll miss you," I told each of my girls, and I actually meant it. Responsibilities at home meant that there was no way I could join them, and it was with a heavy heart that I told my husband, "I really wish I could come with you."

"You'll enjoy the day alone," he responded.

"No, I won't," I pouted.

Not accepting my answer, he kissed me goodbye and closed the door. I was all alone. I looked around the house and didn't know what to do with myself.

Going Organic For The Kids

There was a time when I didn't buy into the idea of organic. It was way too expensive, and besides, man-made and genetically engineered were only ways to improve our health and futures, right? Better living through science! I didn't see what all of the fuss was about.

And then I had kids.

I still didn't buy organic when my older daughter was a baby. Organic baby food was just beginning to go mainstream, but the costs seemed awfully high for benefits that I couldn't even guarantee were there. But as more and more reports came out offering up the benefits of organic foods, I began to pay attention and even started allocating some of our grocery budget to organic food, although at first it was mostly limited to organic meats.

Which Came First: The Failing Schools or The Budget Cuts?

It was with a heavy heart that I read the news on Friday about Columbus City Schools laying-off 164 employees, 113 of them teachers. My daughter goes to a school in the district, and I'm already worried about the impact these cuts will have on her education next year. Will the classrooms be more crowded? Will there be fewer aides to help out?

The Dispatch article reported the cuts were being done to save money after losing students to charter schools and private schools. It's obvious that the school system has developed a bad reputation - they are planning for 2,500 children to leave the district for other school options over the summer alone - and the reputation isn't just based on proficiency test performance. I've heard complaints from parents who feel the schools are already overcrowded, and who are concerned that some of the older school buildings are unsafe.

Seasonal Madness

One benefit of living in Ohio is that we get to experience all four seasons. We get the blanket of snow in the winter, wet and cool springs, the sizzling heat of summer, and the crisp dry air of fall. Just when you start to get sick of one season, another comes along to bring you all new wonders and challenges.

But there's one aspect of all of this season-changing that I could do without: those annoying weeks where you're stuck in-between clothing seasons. This isn't a problem for my clothing, but it drives me mad when dealing with my kids' outfits.

Right now we're suffering through one of these periods. One day it's sunny and 75, the next it's 47 and cloudy. My daughters' dressers are currently filled with long-sleeves, sweatshirts, and fleece. There's no room for anything else. Until last week, stored in hard-to-reach areas were boxes full of short-sleeves, capri pants and sundresses, waiting for summer to be declared.

Death and the Five-Year-Old

Last weekend my grandmother suffered a small stroke. She's been in the hospital since then, forcing my mother to cancel the planned sleepover with my daughters. I debated how I should break the news to my five- and two-year-olds, and finally decided that honesty was the best policy. I explained that Gigi (their name for my grandmother) was sick and they might not see her for several weeks. Both girls were concerned, but seemed to take the news well.

But then a few days later the questions started from my oldest daughter, Cordy.

"Is Gigi still sick?" she asked one day in the car.

"Yes, she's still sick. It may be a long time before she's better." I replied.

"Will she die?" Cordy then asked, a sense of urgency in her small voice.

I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't prepared to talk about death at this age. Actually, I didn't even know that she had any grasp of the concept of death.

"Well," I stammered, "We hope she won't die." Keep sticking to that honesty policy, right?

How Can I Think Of Summer Camp When It's Snowing?

The e-mails from the preschool started in early February: "Summer camp registration is starting soon! Don't miss out!" For the most part, I ignored each notice. After all, summer is still so far away - how can I think about sunscreen and sandals when I'm still knee deep in snow?

Registration opened for summer camp mid-month, and I still didn't jump to get my girls registered. My husband is hoping his contract job will turn permanent before summertime and I'm planning to have a different job before then as well, meaning we don't know what our needs will be for summer. Should we register them for full-time camp or part-time? Depending on circumstances, we may need the full-time coverage or we may need the cheaper part-time option.

While I understand schools like to plan their camp programs as early as possible, I wonder how early is too early? In Columbus it seems like you have to have your summer plans locked down before March to give you a chance at scoring a spot in a summer camp. I always wonder what happens to families who have plans change between winter and summer. Are they stuck giving up their prized camp slot and scrambling to find some other care arrangement for the summer?

Confession: I Hate Snow

When I was a kid, I loved playing in the snow. When we'd be lucky enough to have several inches of the fluffy stuff, I'd spend hours outside building snow trails, snow forts and snowmen until my hands and face were red and numb and my legs ached from the exertion and cold. I'd come inside only to warm up, have a cup of hot chocolate, and change into dry clothing to do it all over again.

So when my children now press their faces up to the window and beg to play in this snowstorm, I feel guilty that I cringe and think up any excuse to keep them inside.

My love affair with snow is gone. I no longer see the fun - I only see the cold, the wet, and the mess I have to clean up each time snow-encrusted boots step across our threshold. I don't want to build snowmen or make snow angels. I don't like feeling cold and wet, even with the promise of a warm house and hot chocolate. At this point, the only reason I shovel the driveway and sidewalk is to avoid walking in more snow when we have to come in and out of the house.

Pay To Play

In the middle of an Ohio winter, it's easy to get a little stir-crazy. We try to get out of the house as often as we can, and for our family, that sometimes means going to the mall to let the kids run loose at the mall play area.

Before you say it: yes, I know the mall play area is a petri dish filled with kid germs. But sometimes a mom needs thirty minutes of sanity, even if those thirty minutes are sitting on the sidelines of a Lord of the Flies re-enactment.

Last weekend we went to the mall, and my husband agreed to take first watch in the play area so I could do a little shopping. When I came back, I could tell something was wrong by the look on his face.

"What happened?" I asked. "Did one the girls get bullied?"

"Look around and tell me what you see," he responded.

I had yet to really look at the activity in the play area. Glancing across the sea of children, I noticed about 15 balloon swords, 10 balloon flowers, and 5 balloon dogs on balloon leashes. That's a lot of balloons for a small play area. Standing right in the middle of the play area was a man inflating balloons with a pump and twisting them into various shapes, while a hoard of small children crowded around him.

Protecting or Overprotecting Our Kids?

My five year old daughter is a beautiful girl. No, I'm not trying to brag here -- she really is pretty, and even if I didn't believe it, I have the testimony of countless strangers who choose to tell us when we're out in public. Everyone, from little grandmotherly-types to other parents to teens, stops us to comment on her appearance or ask if she models. During parent-teacher conferences, her teacher even took a significant chunk of our time to tell us how pretty she is and compliment her fashion sense. (Which I guess is my fashion sense, considering I still choose her clothing.)

It's enough to make any mother feel...proud? No, more like creeped out.