Ohio Moms Blog

Taco Trucks and So Much More, Right Here in Columbus

Last Wednesday I was walking by a bar in Downtown Columbus around lunchtime when I noticed an uncharacteristic hum of activity. Paper lanterns in bright green, pinks, and oranges were strung up around the courtyard. A young woman in an exotic dress stood at the entrance, stamping the hands of the steady stream of patrons walking into the bar.

I stood in the sunshine for a few seconds, pondering the cause of this mid-week celebration before it hit me. The large Corona posters behind the hostess were a helpful clue. These people were here to celebrate Cinco de Mayo.

I then indulged in a few moments of condemning thoughts, harumphing that these youths were much less interested in celebrating the victory of the Mexican army over the French militia then they were interested in finding an excuse for a party. I speculated that if I were to march in and quiz every person clutching a cold beer, and ask them what they were celebrating, more than a few would incorrectly tell me that it was Mexican independence day.

Ohio Mom Bloggers on @KatieCouric with Kathryn Stockett

The cold winter sun was streaming in through the windows. The house was completely quiet. The kids had all been dispatched to various friends' houses, but I was overflowing with nervous energy. I was running around cleaning my house frantically, looking under couches, vacuuming closets, and dusting the baseboards. I was about to welcome into my living room Katie Couric and Kathryn Stockett, author of the NY Times Bestseller novel, the Help. 

Well, not literally, physically in my living room. In another miracle of blogosphere connectivity, the CBS newsroom would be viewing my couch via Skype.

Thankfully, I had a few other intelligent women joining me on my couch to share my anxiety. Abby Aldrich and Amy Turn Sharp of our very own Ohio Moms Blog, along with Kelley Megahan from my Dublin book club. We had honed our questions for the Southern author who captured the essence of race relations in Mississippi during the civil rights era and were ready for a great discussion.

After a great deal of technical back and forth, adjusting the closeness of most of my house tabletop lights to our feet, the interview began. We stared at the blank screen of my iMac, smiling intellectually and intelligently. Soon Katie Couric said, "Hello Ohio!" and Kathryn Stockett's sunny Southern accent warmed the room.

For the rest of the interview, see the footage below:

This is an original Ohio Moms Blog post. When not Skyping with reporters and famous authors, Vanessa Druckman blogs about cooking and parenting at Chefdruck Musings.

The Big Thrill of this Winter Olympics? The Commercials

With the exception of the occasional movie night, we don't watch much TV as a family. Ever since I instituted a daily 60-minute screen time limit, they've been choosing computer time over the television. But for these two weeks of winter Olympics, we've loosened the rules a bit to watch history in action as a family for thirty minutes before bedtime.

It's been an eye opening experience.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. It's difficult to be filled with patriotic fervor ensconced in the depths of the family couch, but I thought the kids would still experience some pride in seeing the American flags proudly waved around in a sea of crimson maple leaves. I also thought that witnessing these athletes propel themselves high into the air on skates, skis, and snowboards, sports they've just begun to learn, might also sow the seed of athletic ambition. But while we did erupt in cheers when Apolo Ohno won the gold, and while my son has started pestering me to take him skiing every day, that hasn't been the big excitement of these winter Olympics.

The thrill of these Olympics has been the commercials.

The Dynamics of Three

When I was pregnant with my third child, I called my mother to give her the good news. Her response, as is often the case, was unexpected. "You're making a huge mistake," she said, "three is terrible. You should wait a few years and have another two. Odd numbers are no good. Two pairs will be much more manageable than three."

As the mother of three daughters, she was speaking from significant experience. My middle sister and I fought constantly, vying for the attention of our baby sister. And when by some miracle we ignored each other, the younger two fought over toys. The only constant was that someone was always left out. 

I was thrilled about my pregnancy and thoroughly annoyed by her poorly timed advice. But even if I hadn't been pregnant, I still wouldn't have wanted to hear it. The thought alone of taking a break and then doing it all over again a second time was enough to make me break out in hives. I also rationalized that things would be different for me because I had children of different genders. 

I wanted my third child, and I wanted him or her to be two or three years apart from my second child. Then I wanted to be done with diapers, sleep training, teething and baby food and on to certainly easier parenting duties. 

Well I got my third child when I wanted her. A little girl to round out my family of girl, boy, girl. And now my baby is three. I am done with diapers, sleep training, teething and baby food. And, as is often the case, I'm beginning to think my mother may have been right. 

The Thousand Dollar Santa Letter

Writing letters to Santa used to be a family activity in our house. I would gather my children, sit them around the kitchen table, surround them with toy catalogs and steaming bowls of hot chocolate and get to work. The writing was almost as fun as the getting.

But this year, before I could even begin planning our letter writing session, my oldest presented me with a fait accompli. She had gathered her siblings and had produced Santa letters, on her own. Now that she is in second grade, she no longer needs her mom to gently "guide" her requests. And as a special treat, she had taken care of her siblings too... to save me some work.

I accepted the three letters, promised to pop them in the mail to Santa first thing in the morning, and I began reading them.

The Mystery and Magic of Elves

My daughter came home last week all abuzz ... about elves.

"Mom!" she said, "when are we getting our elves? Everyone's got them. They're so fun. Why don't we have any?"

"Uh oh," I thought, "another Ohio mystery."

There have been quite a few of these Ohio mysteries since we moved here five months ago, like the scarlet dress code on game days and the rescheduling of Halloween. Consequently, I didn't greet this elf phenomenon with the wildest enthusiasm.

But the requests kept coming, in many forms. There were little post it notes left strewn throughout the house, "Elf, are you here? Please write back." There were tales of elf happenings in friends homes. But what finally spurred me to act was the overheard friend commiseration, "I can't believe you don't have an elf. Don't worry, he's probably just late."

I gathered a group of moms at a holiday party this weekend and they gave me an elf tutorial in hushed whispers with frequent glances to make sure no children were within ear shot. Although the elf tradition varies by household, the basic custom is that an elf doll is purchased. This elf doll has a direct line to Santa and reports on the children's behavior and wishes. He is very active at night, traveling to the North Pole and back, and doing various tricks while the house sleeps. Elves have been known to write "believe" in sugar on the kitchen counter, to tie children's shoes together, to fill bathtubs with water and go sailing on kids toys.