Silicon Valley Moms Blog

If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I must totally suck

I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried. I’ve cooked eggs a half-dozen different ways. I’ve spread peanut butter on toast. I’ve done every kind of cereal known to man. I’ve tried those nasty weight-loss shakes. I’ve eaten Oatmeal and Crème of Wheat. English Muffins, bagels, and donuts on Friday. It really doesn’t matter what I’ve tried to eat for breakfast. Because the fact remains, I hate breakfast.

If breakfast is the most important meal of the day, then I must totally suck. And I must be the biggest failure. But it is so hard for me eat in the morning.

My alarm goes off at 6:45 nearly every morning (don’t be telling me how late I get up, I don’t make it to bed until after Midnight). Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in my workout clothes and I’m doing my best to get my son up and ready for school. Thirty minutes later, I’ve checked email, packed lunches, and have shoo’ed my family out the door so that I can officially start my day. And yes, I even make them all breakfast. But me? I don’t want breakfast. I’m not interested in breakfast. The thought of breakfast makes me want to dry heave in the sink.

Saved by the San Jose Parks and Rec

I’ve known for years that the only way to get into the Summer Camps you want is to register in March; months before you really should have to plan out your summer vacation. Emails went flying around my son's class group email about who was signing up for where and when so that parents could try to coordinate camps with friends. I even told another mom that we were signing up for particular weeks of the YMCA Lego Camp so that my son and his BFF could be together for two weeks in the summer.

And then my morning sickness kicked in full force. The camp brochures sat on my desk for weeks collecting dust. I knew that I needed to sign up to get the camps that we wanted. I knew that I had promised my son two weeks of Lego Camp. But I didn’t do anything about it. Over two months passed before I finally logged into the Y’s online registration. When I finally did get around to it, all of the camps that we wanted, in the week that we wanted, were booked solid. No Lego Camp. No Super Hero camp. No Magic Camp. There were weeks that were available for camps, but we weren’t available to attend it. I felt like a total failure as a mom in that moment as I desperately tried to find a single camp that worked.

On our weekly trip to our local library, I saw that the new Summer Activity Guide for San Jose was available. I snagged one in hopes that I’d be able to redeem my camp enrollment failures. I wasn’t expecting to hit the jackpot in affordable camps.

Morning Sickness has nothing to do with the Morning

When I was pregnant with my son six years ago, I didn’t have any morning sickness. I barely suffered through two weeks of a little queasiness and food aversions. It was nothing. I was always smug about the fact that pregnancy and me got along so well. Two peas in a pod were we. Sure, I felt sorry for my friends who actually had real morning sickness during their pregnancies. But I also wore a badge of pride about never getting sick.

I didn’t realize that I should have sent a bouquet of flowers and a big Thank You card to the pregnancy Gods for bestowing such luck to a working gal like me. I guess this time around the Gods Must Be Angry.

I’ve never barfed so much in my life. At first it was just a few times a week, but for the last month I have regurgitated a meal at least once day. And surprisingly, very few of my rendezvous with my bathroom toilet have been in the morning. To call it “morning” sickness is a cruel trick. It should be called “all day” sickness. Or “you never know when you’re gonna find yourself barfing” sickness. Or “there’s no rhyme or reason to this” sickness.

Let’s All Go to the Drive In

When I was a kid, my dad often took us to the Drive-In. He drove a “chester” van… you know the ones with no windows, with a seat in the back that could convert into a bed. My dad would pack up the van with all sorts of snacks, blankets, and pillows. We’d head out at dusk to get in line and get a good spot in front of the supersize screen. My dad would always let us go get an ice-cream or special treat from the concession stand. My brother and I thought we were so cool.

As an adult now, I realize why my father (a single dad) loved the Drive-In. It was CHEAP. Kids are free, the snacks didn’t have the 500% mark-up you get in the movie theater, and it was much more comfortable for all of us. My dad also says that my brother and I never made it to the second movie (all drive-in’s are double features). As soon as we both were fast asleep, my dad would just close the back doors to the van and drive on home.

When one of the latest kid movies was playing at the drive-in, my dad took my son. I had forgotten about the Drive-In on Capitol Road in San Jose. It’s home to the Flea Market during the day. I’m sure it’s probably the same place that we went when I was a kid. My son and father packed up the car with popcorn, a flashlight (to be able to walk to the bathrooms and concession stand), drinks, and candies. The two of them had such a great time that my son was talking about it for weeks after.

Do celebrities make good role models?

Are Celebrities Good Role Models for Kids? @ Yahoo! Video

When we cancelled the cable last year, we didn’t realize at the time the bullet we’d be dodging in raising our son. No Nickelodeon. No Disney Channel. No Sponge Bob Square Pants or Hannah Montana. PBS’ Electric Company and CyberChase are pretty much the only TV my son watches during the week. We do have a regular “Family Movie Night” every Friday, allowing just about any PG movie of my son’s choosing from our local library. But when it comes to celebrities, I’m not even sure my son knows the meaning of the word.

There’s no Hannah Montana or the Jonas Brothers or those twin boys living in the hotel. I’m sure he knows who those people are – he does go to school where he picks up all sorts of stuff besides reading, writing, and arithmetic. But he doesn’t watch their shows. Or see their movies. Or get caught up in the fever of all that Disney sugary pop-culture.

Mothers and Daughters

Last week, my mother celebrated a milestone.  The big six-oh.  For the last few years my mother has been riddled with health problems, including more than one big scare that left us wondering if she wasn’t going to make it.  Nearly a year ago, my mom started on the road to recovery and has been in fairly good health since.  I know that her days are numbered; after all, everyone’s days are numbered.  But I also have peace of mind in knowing that my mom and I have had a really good ride.

Our relationship hasn’t always come easy.  We are so alike and so different in many ways.  Our opinions of each other matter more than anyone else on this earth, so criticism can often lead to hurt feelings.  But we always have a way of making it back to each other.  Of realizing that while it may not always come out of our mouth the right way, we want only the best for each other.  And our intentions are always good, even if the outcome gets muddied.

This weekend, as I wandered the Farmer’s Market alone, I saw a teenage girl and a mother having a dispute about something.  I wasn’t listening in, but I could tell by their body language that the teenager wasn’t getting her way and the mother was frustrated.  I smiled and remembered when my relationship was like this with my mother.  I wanted to be grown-up and felt like my mother was squashing my independence.  My mother, seeing me for the child that I still was, would try to get me enough rope to wander but not enough to kill myself.  It was a give and take – mainly her giving and my taking – relationship then.  I’m sure that my mother felt like the only time I was nice to her was when she was buying me something.

Book It can Suck It

It started last November when a flyer came home about the Book It Reading program.  Like many schools in the Bay Area, ours had partnered with Pizza Hut for a reading rewards program.  If my son read for 15 minutes every day in the month, then he could get a coupon for a free personal pizza.  From the start I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of rewarding with food.  Especially bad, unhealthy food.

Let’s face it, the ultimate goal of rewarding children is to help them internalize the positive behavior.  Sure, many of us used a jelly bean or an M&M to get our toddler to pee in the potty (in our house it was stamps, stickers, and when I got really desperate, Thomas trains).  But we also know that rewarding children in the home or in the classroom does not need to involve food.  Why else do you see so many moms clapping their hands and gleefully saying "YAYYYYY!!!" to their toddlers when they do something right?

There are big risks when rewarding with food.  The obvious is establishing potentially bad eating habits or over-eating.  But my bigger concern about rewarding reading with a high-fat, low-nutrient, fast-food pizza is that we are teaching the kids to reward themselves with food.  Which in turn connects food with mood.  And for those of us who’ve eaten a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food when our boyfriend dumped us in college know that it’s a dangerous game to establish your eating habits based on how your feeling.

An Open Letter to San Jose Unified School District

Last year when you decided to cut 100 elementary school teachers and increase class sizes from K-3 to 30 students (that’s a 50% increase in kindergarten, if you can’t do the math), I did what I felt was the right thing for my family – I pulled my kid out of public education and placed him a private school.  Some told me that I lost my voice in public education the day I raised my white flag (and my checkbook).  But I’m still a law abiding tax payer.  I’m still a concerned citizen.  And I had still held on to the hope that, like the prodigal son, my child would return to public education when the district got its act together.

Sadly, that day hasn’t come.

Instead, San Jose Unified, you’ve continued to make cuts.  Now there is talk of more lay-offs for High School teachers and implementing ELEVEN furlough days for the entire district.  But let’s call that what it is really is.  You’ve increased class sizes to the point where kids are already falling behind and now you’re going to cut the school year by over two weeks?!?  This is beyond crazy.  It’s downright unethical, deplorable, and inexcusable.  Oh and don’t get me started in your idiotic attempt to recover some of that time by increasing the school day by 5 minutes.  FIVE MINUTES per day does not equal the same instruction time as ELEVEN DAYS.  Five minutes can easily be wasted, easily forgotten.  It can in no way, shape, or form replace eleven days of teaching.

Addiction

Three weeks ago I decided to quit cold turkey.  Some people, especially my close family members, knew of my addiction.  It was serious and it was starting to affect my health and even some of my relationships.  I knew the detox would be tough, the journey to stay sober would be harder, and the temptation to go back to my old ways would always be there.  But I wasn’t really prepared to get clean and sober from my coffee addiction.

Yes, I am a caffeine addict.  My preferred method of receiving my drug is coffee.  It doesn’t have to be fancy gourmet blends or expensive lattes.  With a little cream and a half-packet of Splenda, I’ll take my coffee any way I can get it.  I drink anywhere from 4 to 8 cups in a given day.  In the afternoons, I often grab a Diet Coke to get one last caffeine fix.  On the weekends, I fix up Chai made with caffeine-laced black tea.  I can’t get enough of the stuff.

It doesn't matter how good you've been, you're not getting it kid

When I attended his class Holiday Party, I moved around the room to see all the work displayed from floor to ceiling.  There were glittery poinsettias, construction paper dreidels, and reindeer’s antlers made from their own hands.  And tucked away into the far side of the room, where most parents still hadn’t ventured, was handwritten letters to Santa.  All of the letters started the same way, “Dear Santa, I’ve been a very good boy/girl.”  I’m guessing the teachers gave the children some examples of what to write next.  Some said they were nice to their little brother or sister.  Some said they picked up their toys. Others said they listened to their parents. But that was the end of the similarity.  What came after was the wish list. After all, one doesn’t write to Santa to ask for World Peace. It’s all about the toys.

I was getting quite a chuckle from the list of toys requested by the class. There were dolls, what I think was supposed to be a zhu zhu pet, superheroes, and even a request for a new bike.  But then I came to my son’s paper.  Darius wrote, clear as day, “I want a DS.” As in a Nintendo DS. 

It shouldn’t surprise me that he went big this year with the list.  After all, Santa has always brought him what he wanted. But those wants then weren’t as expensive as the wants of today.  Then it was a football helmet or a Lego Star Wars set.  It wasn’t a toy that costs over $150. This year he had originally told me that he was asking Santa for Bakugans.  And you know Santa already finished his shopping and bought those darn plastic thingamabobs and has them well hidden at the top of the closet waiting for Christmas morning. Santa isn’t buying a DS.  No way in hell.