angry mother hits back

Bringing up the baby

2012-01-06T10:37:00.000-08:00

Are French mothers the new Tiger moms? Are they stricter than the British equivalents? And if so, is it working? Are French kids better behaved and educated? Are they happier??

This article from the Guardian raises some interesting observations regarding child raising , but I can't help but feeling that the core of the issue has nothing to do with nationality, but simply in differences in attitude amongst conflicting groups of parenting styles.

If children are being let to run free to discover the world and make their own choices, are they harmonious or disruptive?
If they are reared in a more strictly confined space, where some one is scheduling every step they are allowed to take, will this benefit them in their adult lives?

We can argue for the sake of arguing for as long as we like, but the bottom line is, parents will not always agree on the art of bringing up the baby. There is no point in dressing it up as a matter of nationality - we all come form different schools of life.

You go, girl!

2012-01-06T10:31:00.001-08:00

Kate got her yellow belt in Aikido last night, after only 3 months of practice. She is the only girl in a group of 15, and it's taken most of the boys over a year to get to the same point.
I don't want to brag -
but YOU GO GIRL - KICK SOME BUTT!!!

Show them that everything they can do we can do too - and with dignity to spare.

I am so proud of her:)

A new year

2012-01-04T18:46:00.000-08:00

I don't really know where to begin, but I hope you have had a good holiday.

Today is Kate's birthday, and she's turning 10.
Yes.
10.
I have been a mother for a decade.

But it is not about me, it is about this gorgeous, funny, smart, cool and very special creature that is my daughter. Who I am so incredibly proud of.
Happy birthday, Kate.
I love you so very much.

Argh!

2011-11-22T19:52:00.000-08:00

How do I keep my calm with a near 10 year old girl who is impossibly sloppy and disorganized with everything that comes her way.
Jackets. Sweaters. Been through dozens. They all end up somewhere in a school yard, and never find their way back home. Or to Lost and Found for that matter.
She can't find a pencil sharpener or eraser on her desk if her life depended on it.
Practice sheets for french test? When she finally tells me they actually have a text (the day before), she forgets to bring it home.

I'm tearing my hair out!
Please, help me - what do I do???

PTC

2011-11-17T11:32:00.001-08:00

Parent teacher conference today.
Am gearing up for a bit of an argument with Kate's teacher. He's in to collective punishments and shouts a lot at the kids in class.
Wish me luck.

Big mouth

2011-11-11T10:09:00.000-08:00

I unwillingly raised a few eyebrows in Kate's Aikido class yesterday.
There is an Alpha-boy in the class who is always voicing his own greatness (he also happens to be in Kate's school class, so I have had ample time to study his behavior...), and also letting others know that girls are no good at anything. They can't kick a ball, they can't do team sports, they can't do maths, etc etc.
Yesterday, while doing stretches, the boys were slacking off, not taking it seriously.
- Look at Kate, Sensei said. That's what your meant to do.
(Kate is flexible, and stretches the pants of all the boys.)

- That's because she does ballet, whines Alpha-boy.

- So? I hear my self say across the room.
Everyone looks at me.
- SO?
Every one is quiet.

The other parents are uncomfortable.

I wish I kept my mouth shut.
I just can't take attitude, and laziness, at the cost of making the girls sound weaker. As if ballet is a bad excuse.
But I wish I kept my mouth shut.
I can't fight her battles.

I have a big mouth.

Juggler

2011-11-10T18:30:00.001-08:00

Here we go again. Another long break.

I promised myself to never over-schedule my kids, to always make sure they have plenty of time at home, and to teach them that it is OK to be bored, and to use their imagination.
That has worked well. Not.
Kate is currently dancing three nights a week a 1,5 hour, riding 2 hours every Sunday and practicing Aikido Thursday nights.
Leo has swim lessons and soccer tots. Add on the odd birthday party and throw in a few play dates and you have yourselves two very fraught and exhausted parents.

What happened?
I'm not a soccer mom. I'm not a pushy stage mom, or a helicopter parent. How did I get caught up in this?

My son The Beckham

2011-10-07T07:52:00.000-07:00

This is Leos' rules of soccer:

* Don't run past the goal.
* Don't run away from the field.
* Run too fast, but don't run too slow.
* Get a trophy.

An education.

2011-10-06T19:36:00.000-07:00

I have to say, this year, I am not too thrilled with Kate's English teacher. From day one, my she has voiced some very strong negative opinions about 4Th grade. This is Kate, No 1 super-nerd, the girl who will actually go to the library to read up on Roman gods, and looks forward to the spelling quiz on Fridays.

Last week they read the Pied Piper of the Hamelin, an afterwards, they were told to rewrite the story making up their own characters. Instead of rats, Kate wanted the pied piper to chase out griffins (no I wasn't entire sure exactly what two animals this ancient creature was supposed to be made up of, but I told you she was a geek), but the teacher had never heard of a griffin, and had made her change the character.

Tonight she came home with some extra maths homework (not her strongest subject). Turns out she had remade the same mistake on 25 different problems - twice - and was asked to bring home to correct them a third time. After helping her, I asked her if the teacher hadn't tried explaining the mistake to her in school. Did you even ask her? I said.
- I did, but all she said was for me to follow the instructions on the top of the page.

I am now seeing red but told Kate that next time she has problem understanding something, don't leave until you get the teacher to explain it to you.
- It is your darn right as a student to be given the very best education possible, I said, and the teacher is your tool. Use it!

Granted; what if the tool is old, blunt and in need of some sharpening?

I don't really care how she does it.

2011-10-02T10:00:00.000-07:00

So, hands up: who's watched I don't know how she does it yet?
And who liked it?
Did anyone else roll their eyes at how the scriptwriters managed to address some of the ordeals working mothers of the 21st century are battling by suggesting that as long as you can tell your boss you're making snow men with your kids, you'll be absolutely fine?
I was never a big fan of the book, but compared to the movie it's up there with Orlando and Fear of flying.

But the book does touch on some very serious aspect of the working woman's, as well as the working mother's reality. Sexual harassment, overlooked for promotions, getting less money for the same work and making up for your absence by showering your kids with guilt gifts, are every day fodder for many women, yet the movie decides to not approach this at all, or only through a little cheeky twinkle in the eye: Know what I mean (nudge, nudge)?

And of course, my question would be: why are we even pretending that women have come a long way since the dawn of Housewife, when we still watch movies and read books that explicitly saying that this is only a woman's headache.
The man of the house, regardless of his level of meterosexuality, still reserves the right to complain if he feels his wife needs to put a lid on it and start spending more time home with the kids - especially since his promotion is slightly more important than hers, and he can quietly get on with it because he knows the kids PE kit is still being packed by the wife. We all know it - yet we think the movie argument, resolved in a little movie kiss, is kind of cute, and slightly charming, 'cos who wouldn't want to be a working mother in Boston, worrying about a bake sale if the husband is Greg Kinnear?

I watched this with Kate. I laughed at the List. And the baked goods. That was about it.
She thought it was hilarious.

Family meeting

2011-10-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

With a round of croissants, juice and black coffee, I suggest we call a family meeting.
Leo is all on board:
- I want to know what time it is. And if we can have candy.
Husband shakes his head:
- Why do we need a family meeting? We talk every night over dinner.
- That is talking and being together. This is an opportunity for us to discuss things we might want to change. Or something like that. You know, for everyone to have a chance to make decisions. (I look at husband and nod at the kids:) You know, for everyone to feel that they have a say, and are being heard. Like: I would like to talk about how you (pointing to Leo) and you (pointing to Kate) argue every morning. I think we should come up with some solutions to that. And maybe you guys have something you think mommy and daddy should change?

Leo raises his hand:
- I have something to say. I think we should go scooting.
- Well. That's good. We can talk about that.
I am grasping at straws, trying to stay upbeat.

Kate has been muttering in my husbands ear the whole time. Now she rolls her eyes.
- OK. I want to say something. I think we should change the stupid name "family meeting" to something else.
Husband nods in agreement.
Leo says:
- I have something to say. I think I should eat daddy's croissant.
- OK, I say. Maybe that is something you should just talk to daddy about?
Kate and husband are whispering about what a pointless idea this is .

- I think we should go for a walk after breakfast, Kate's finally says. I need to move. I feel so big after that breakfast.
- You don't get to say anything, I say. You decided to not be a part of the family meeting.
- Oh, come on! This is stupid. I can just get daddy to come with me. And I don't understand why we go to this place for breakfast. We should just go to Stacks and eat pancakes.

- You don't have a say. You should have thought about that ten minutes ago.

Angry Mother tries to be all technical and s***

2011-09-30T14:05:00.001-07:00

Angry Mother has gone twitter. Now there is a button in the right hand column that you can click on, and something should happen. I don't really know what, but aren't you keen to find out?
Am trying to figure out how to automatically feed my blogposts to the twitter account.
That could take all day.

ABC = F1F2F3

2011-09-30T13:09:00.000-07:00

Will book app's kill the paperback the same way as video killed the radio star? I have no idea, but I found this article from the Guardian UK quite interesting. Personally, they would have to drag me to my death before I stopped encouraging my kids to read and enjoy books in their spare time, but I do love me a nice little Ipad for those (in)frequent times when all else has been tried and failed and you just need them to be quiet for a little while.

I certainly won't mind Leo playing interactive games associated with his fave stories, but would I pretend that his reading quota had been filled for the day? Absolutely not.
It will be interesting to see how parents will use these apps and what the research will say a few years down the line.
If I were to put money on it, the debate will sound pretty similar to the one on video and computer games.

I fight for my right to never be a Victoria's Secret.

2011-09-29T12:23:00.001-07:00

Some days ago, a male friend posted on Facebook that he had joined a group who were trying to get a shopping mall to move the playground away from their current site, as they are situated right outside Victoria's Secret.
I admit that my initial reaction was one of bemused cynicism:
- Come on. Are we not taking our need to shelter our kids from the devils sins a little too far? This is overkill. What's a semi-naked body when we have plenty bigger issues to tackle?
His reply was straight and honest:

- I like boobies as much as the next man. But my point is not the boobies. It is about the message about what body images we are sending out to our children. We are saying that these skinny, photo shopped bodies are a standard from which we are measuring perfection these days.

He has a very good point. And I admit, again, that I have become too blasé about the visual images we surround ourselves with. Just because I am so the opposite to the type of woman who is affected about commercial stereotypes, because I have a brain that I use on a daily basis, I just assume that my children will be unaffected by this too. I forget that they are still young and impressionable and that they don't automatically become me while they grow up in this very f-cked up world of ours.
I decided there and then to be more conscious and to make sure I talk to my kids a lot more about this.

But too soon for me to do something about it, Kate asked me if I thought she was getting bigger as she was touching her belly after an evening snack of bread, cheese and a little apple juice.

It devastated and temporarily paralyzed me.

This was one of those moments you wish you were in a movie, or a family sitcom, and you would sit your child down on the sofa, stroke her back, and very eloquently tell her everything she needs to hear in three to five profound sentences, and you would hug, she would smile at you, and everything is fine again, and the subject will never be brought up again because your words were enough to forever change you the insecurities your child had carried with her until then.
Oh, I wish!

So what did I do?
I did tell her how special, and beautiful and divine she is, and how she is going through some changes that will inevitably make her feel out of sync with her body and that the body needs energy in order to grow and that there is nothing wrong with her, etc etc. I stroke her back, and I hugged her. Told her I am there for her.

It was almost like in the movies.

But this is not going away. In real life, this is only the beginning of many years of agonizing insecurities about imperfection and self loathing .
And shopping malls will keep putting their playgrounds outside Victoria's Secret.
And we will still live in a world with very impossible physical standards.
And it is not about to get any better.

PS:

2011-09-24T21:44:00.000-07:00

Kate often says: I love you mom.
I can't complain, when it comes to my daughter, I am not starved for affection.
Tonight, when we were watching Hell's Kitchen, she told me she loved me, again. Out of the blue.
- I love you too, sweet, I smiled. What made you say that, in the middle of a Gordon Ramsey rant?
- Well, I just started thinking. Parents do a lot for their kids. They give them food, and drive them places, and play games and stuff. They do a lot.

Hell yeah.
But it's all worth it.
And I told her that too.

I will never, ever give up this blog ever again. I promise.

2011-09-24T19:52:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone, if anyone is still out there?
I would like to say sorry for dropping the blog for so long, it was never my intention to stop writing but life took such an unexpected turn and for a long time, I had to try to come to terms with some inevitable changes and work a few things out. Nope, not divorced - but it was close for a while.

I have been craving to write for a long time now, though, so this is my solemn promise: to blog and be angry again!

So, apart from not taking my marriage for granted anymore, what else has happened since my last post?
Well, Kate is in 4th grade. She's going through some "changes" and thinks that school is "really boring". She is yet again in a very rowdy, high energy class, with a lot of strong type A males, who think that girls are crap at maths, and should refrain from all sports. Oh, trust me, this will be my next blog post.

Leo is turning 4, and is in pre-school. Not all sunshine and roses, there are still issues with his temper. And at drop off, I have suddenly turned in to the mother other parents avoid, because they don't like my son. Again, another blog post.

And one of the reasons I started to crave this blog was something I listened to on the BBC Radio's Woman's Hour a few days ago. Again, more blog posts.

It is so good to be back - if there are any readers out there - please, send me a sign!

Oh the boredom

2010-09-08T11:22:00.001-07:00

It is easy to feel lonely when the weather is grey and foggy in the Bay Area. Everything is geared towards the outside, which implies good weather and this is an anomaly since we never really have very good weather here.
So what do you do when the temperature is hitting freezing and the cold wind is biting your cheeks? Well, playgrounds are out. So is the Discovery Museum and the beach.
And I still haven't signed Leo up for any activities. Or rather, I have, but only for the days he is with his babysitter, since smart-arse over here thought how nice it would be to spend my free days with him without the added stress of scheduled commitments. How nice it would be to just be spontaneous and hang out.
I just happened to forget about the weather. hanging out is not the same if you do it indoors. You soon grow out of your space. Restlessness tend to set in.

And the few friends I have who have kids Leo's age? Well, they were smart. They scheduled activities down to the very last pottery class. Right now they are busy ferrying their sprogs from one place to another. A spontaneous coffee has to be scheduled at least two weeks in advanced.

It's only 11.30. Four hours to go before pick up time at school. And we need to buy bread. That is an added half hour. Maybe we could go pick up deodorant and shampoo form Walgreen's there's another half hour. What am I complaining about - this day will fly by!

Back from summer break

2010-08-17T02:58:00.001-07:00

I apologise for disappearing without a word, as always it feels like this blog never really takes off, the silence in between the rants is too overpowering.
We have been away for the summer, and have only just come back to reality.
Although a nice, welcome and much needed break I am still a bit mystified by the fact that a mother should always, always be on tap. Why do people assume that you are available 24/7, and that you can be available.
Not to moan, but not once has anyone in my close family said: I'll take the kids today. I'll plan fun, eventful yet responsible activities for them while you just kick back with a crime novel and not worry about dinner.
It's not that bad, and dear husband - I know you are reading this, eventually: don't over-interpret.
After all, you always tell me that I only have to ask. All I'm saying is: sometimes it would be if it was suggested by someone else.
Not just my husband. My mother also seem to have some difficulties with mastering my two lovely off-springs at the same time, by her self. Wonder how she managed with me and my brother when we were young? I have become very used to negotiate some me-time over the last few weeks. As in: if I have this right now, I can give you this back, a little later.
You have to be clever and diplomatic to be a mother on holiday, no doubt about it.

But we are back, and ready to start again.
Hope you've had a good summer!

Gender is for fun

2010-07-05T11:25:00.000-07:00

As most other people in the US, we celebrated 4th of July yesterday. But since we are Europeans, our celebrations was of the more subdued sort, a simple picnic under a tree in the park, no fireworks in the evening.
I couldn't help but listening in to another group of people that walked by us at one point. It was two daddy's, two mom's, two little girls and one little boy around the ages of 3-5. The dad's decided to go get some coffee while the mom's were gonna hang out with the kids.
- Do you want to come with us? asked one dad the little boy.
He declined.
- Do you wanna be with the boys, or stay with the girls? said the dad again.
- Play, said the little boy.
- No, why don't you come with the boys? insisted the dad.
To which one of the girls said:
- I wanna come, daddy! Please.
- No, you stay here with the girls. You stay here and play.
- But I wanna come. Please, daddy.
- No, stay here with the girls. Are you sure you don't wanna come with the boys instead of staying with the girls? he then asked the boy again.
It seemed to be a hotchpotch of mixed messages, feelings and general back and forth.

I couldn't help wondering why something so simple turned in to something so complicated?
And why on earth did the dad feel he had to gender-specify the whole project??
Boys and girls, staying or going, having fun or not.
No girls allowed here, only there.
The girl was upset, the boy seemed to feel that he was somehow missing out regardless what he chose, not to mention that he probably felt he had somehow disappointed his dad.

Happy 4th of July!
Please don't gender stereotype your kids.

another playground rant

2010-06-30T21:26:00.001-07:00

I have blogged about this before, but I can't help myself after my failed playground visit yesterday.

Why do mothers insist on ruling the playground? Why can't they just leave the kids alone to get on with it? Why does every single run up the darn play structure and down the sodding slide have to be supervised an inch away from the action, neurotically cheered on in a shrill voice and coached through as it was the Olympics?
God forbid we should miss a second of precious little Sam taking yet.... another step. Guess what? He'll do it again.
Intervening, interfering, we're not letting kids have a go at working it out it for themselves. That goes for both motor and social skills.
When I was a kid my mom packed a basket with a thermos full of black coffee, a book and her knitting. In the park she sat next to all the other mothers on a bench and she didn't bat an eyelid unless I had literally cracked my skull open. Bruised knee? Go on - get back and play. Hungry? Sure, dinner is ready in two hours. Mommy just needs to gossip away some of that caffeine rush first.
OK, so I am exaggerating a bit (kind of) but seriously: we need to stop mollycoddling our kids.

They will survive, they will not have to go in to therapy and they will not hate you if you leave them alone to figure it out for themselves for a while, in fact, they might even thank you.

Play ground pranks

2010-06-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

There is a reason for why I avoid any human contact on a social level what so ever when I am planning on doing something with Leo. His third birth day creeping up closer and closer by the month, he still in the same old, boring phase as he was sometime around Christmas: he's a hitter, and I am the mommy in the playground that everyone secretly loves to hate.

Every time: all eyes on me!

Always curiously and unforgivingly watching me to see: how is she going to react today? Is she going to deal with it in a Perfect way today? Or will she break down, as she always does, and finally leave the playground with a screaming toddler under one arm?

Today was no different and after what felt like a lifetime, but was only fifteen minutes of constant observing, guarding, maneuvering and saving of other mother's kids before they get hit with a shovel in their face, I was exhausted and had to retreat to the bench to secretly eat some of Leo's snacks. I loose him out of my sight for a few seconds and suddenly I hear one of the other mothers:
- You know that Leo is being hit by another girl over there.
I look over.
There he is, on a play structure, trying to defend himself against an aggressive little fire cracker who keeps smacking him in the face.
I shrug my shoulders.
- It's OK. It's nice that he is one the receiving end for a change, I say and eat another piece of apple from the plastic Thomas The Tankengine lunch box.
The mother looks at me in shock horror.

So now they have yet another thing to add to their list of inappropriate parenting behaviour: I don't defend my son.

At home with the normal people.

2010-06-29T12:15:00.000-07:00

Waking up and getting things ready for the day to come is a two man minimum task in our household.
There are hungry kids who are individually very particular about their morning kick start, and there is a rabbit who is equally so. There are lunchboxes to pack, snacks and drinks to get ready, clothes to be put out on bed, or helped to be put on tiny little two year old body, there are teeth brushing to supervise and when your done there are not much time let for yourself.

When my husband is gone away on business this workload only gets harder. I am on my own, and it seems that everything that can go wrong, undoubtedly will. Someone will knock over the new milk carton on the breakfast table and make paper marche of the morning paper, all sections.
Kate will realize that one partner of every pair of socks she owns has decided to mysteriously disappear somewhere between the laundry basket and the tumble dryer, and Leo will decide that this is the morning that he will no longer eat toast and cereal, but will instead take up a diet of messy crackers and wet, sticky left over water melon which will mutate via his hands on to every single piece of object between the kitchen and the kids bathroom.

As I pack the kids up in to car, a few minutes later than usual, but still on the right side of panic, I look at the mess in the kitchen, the unmade beds, the heaps of dirty clothes lying right next to the laundry basket (why would they make it all the way in to the basket, that would just be insane!) and my own dishevelled self, half dressed in pyjamas, half in work out clothes (no one will know the difference) I take a deep breath and give myself a pat on the back for making it through another morning without accidentally killing myself.

This is what it is like living my life, part one. And it's only 815 in the morning.

Joan Rivers

2010-06-27T21:08:00.001-07:00

I went to see the Joan Rivers documentary A piece of work tonight and oh, it inspired me. It is a phenomenal portrayal of a fighter and survivor.
There are some touching moments when she talks about her relationship with her daughter, which I found very moving. She must be a nightmare mother, but I say this lovingly - all daughters find it hard to be around their mothers, all mother's want to steel the limelight away from their daughters! And Joan Rivers doesn't pretend to be anything but herself.
It is both funny and very touching - I highly recommend it.

This is hilarious

2010-06-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

If you want to raise your child in a non-gender stereotyping environment (good grief, it makes me tired just writing it, haha) try doing what a Swedish couple is doing, namely: just don't disclose your child's gender.
The child's name is Pop, Pop has a wardrobe consisting of both dresses and trousers, and he/she/it/Pop's haircut is ambiguously androgynous (but, then, this is Sweden, and so is 99% of the rest of the kids hair-cuts too).

It seems like a hell of a lot of effort going in to messing this child's life up if you ask me. Believe me, most of us end up on the therapist's couch one way or another during our life on this earth, so why pave the rocky road leading up there with more confusion and alienation?

But then again, it is also a very clever move. Imagine the book-advances, the movie deals, the whole money making machine you are inevitably signing Pop up for - this baby is going to make a ton! Oh, no, wait, it's not the US, it's Sweden..... they don't look at people as brands over there.....

To give it a name

2010-06-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

So, what does it mean to live and cope with the big D-word? Well, I wouldn't have a clue. I have been so good at keeping it manageable by building tall walls around myself that the term denial would be an understatement. Instead, you would have to ask my family. Kate would look at you and say:
- Mommy sees someone who is helping her be happy. So she won't get angry all the time.

- Tell your daughter exactly what it is, said my therapist. But don't give it a name. Names are scary.
She's telling me??? - Giving it a name means I will be able to find at least fifty books on the topic on Amazon. Not giving it a name means that I can pretend it's part of my quirky, slightly cynical personality.

But we have given it a name. That's the bottom line. Kate is still happily unaware of this, but the name is there, looking right in to our eyes. And by giving it a name, I am being forced to deal. I am having to confront it head first, and I am having to admit that it is tearing us, our family apart.
- I hate this, I complained to my husband. We are actually giving in to it. Why can't it be like before, I was doing well. I had it under control.
- Well, you did OK, but the rest of us didn't, says my husband in earnest. And we're not giving in to it. We're taking charge of it.

I know he's right. It was shit before. It will still be shit, at least for a while yet. But at least we have decided to not let it take over our family. Because that would be giving in to it!

A confession of sorts

2010-06-16T13:15:00.000-07:00

"We have the means for happiness, but no happiness" Virginia Woolf wrote about her marriage to Leonard Woolf. She was indicating that the depression she suffered from, and which subsequently she lost her life to, made it impossible for her to enjoy their relationship to the full. Virginia didn't have any children, but she loved spending time with her nieces and nephews, and to them, she was a much beloved aunt.
Living with depression is a constant struggle and trying to manage it and keep it under wraps takes up an enormous amount of energy. Today is a good day, and I can afford to confess: taking care of my children has been a part-time occupation, battling depression is my full-time job.

This blog is meant to document my life as a mother and for the last year I have written about my frustrations and reactions to what I like to call the parenthood trap. As of today I will have to include another topic in my blog, namely: how you live and cope with depression in a family with young children.

Having recently been diagnosed with the illness my journey has only just begun. Being able to write about it honestly and candidly is going to be very helpful to me. I hope you are patient with me:). The blog will not change. My angry rants will not disappear. This is still very much the angry mother's blog.
But now I will have even more to write about it.

Nancy Hannah Miley

2010-06-15T13:39:00.001-07:00

I don't need to worry about Kate, that's for sure. Her best friend is besotted with Hannah Montana so I figured it was just a question about time before this vacuous phenomena would hit our home too. But not so. When I asked KAte the other day what she felt about Miley and her alter ego she just shrugged her shoulders and said:
- I don't really like it. It's not interesting, and nothing happens. Like: nothing happens.
She went back to reading her Nancy Drew.
- Mommy. How do I become a private detective?

2010-06-03T12:15:00.001-07:00

I love children as much as the next person (no, I don't, I love my own children, other children I tolerate - if they are well-behaved and chew with their mouths closed....), and I think parents deserve to live in the same world as the rest of the people, with the same rights in public spaces, but if your child is screaming his head off and has done for the last 30 minutes, in the cafe where everyone else are trying to work - chances are you should probably consider taking him out for a walk instead.
I feel sorry for the little guy though. His mother doesn't seem to understand that the answer to his cries are not to rock the stroller ferociously side to side while mouthing "hush" in a very loud voice and throw books and stuffed animals at him.

Things my husband and I argue about

2010-06-02T21:08:00.000-07:00

When I got a flat tire about a month ago, my husband quickly stepped up to the plate and change it to the spare, telling me he would call the garage the next day since, as he pointed out in a reassuring tone, although secured better than any of the others were, driving around on the spare is simply not a good idea, and use of the car should be kept at a minimum until we had the new tire.
The next morning I ask him if I can take his car, assuming that he will, as he had said before, take my car to the garage. We even have a short argument about what time of the day will be the best to drop it off so that they will be able to do it while we wait, all of this leading to my assumption that it will be business as usual within 24 hours. I can't have his car, he explains, as he needs to go to a meeting, and suddenly, driving on the spare is not such a big deal. And anyway, the garage don't have the tire, it has to be ordered, he says. As in: aren't we just soo lucky that we didn't need to bring it in today, of all days.

A month later, and I am still driving with the spare, and I ask my husband if he has called to garage to see what is going on.
- I'll do it today, he says.
That night, when I ask him again, he says he forgot.
- I didn't have time, he says and tries to turn it around: If I had ordered it myself it would have been here by now, and I could have fit it myself, and it would have saved us a good deal of money!
He looks pleased with himself.
I look puzzled.
- What's that got to do with anything??
- Well, it would have been quicker if I'd done it myself.
- .... but you didn't.... so what's your point?
I can see he's about to throw himself in to something so I just nip it by saying:
- Can you just call them. Please.

A week later, my husband is in New York on business.
I send him an email.
"I don't really care where in the world you are, or how good you are a t changing tires, if you don't effing call the garage tomorrow, the divorce papers will be at your desk quicker than you can say Fed Ex."

Most of you would say: Why didn't you just call the garage yourself.
I could have. And it would have been done, over, end off. But I didn't, he did. So it's now the principal of the matter.
Responsibilities vs priorities.
All of that.
You understand.

Things my husband and I argue about

2010-05-28T12:23:00.001-07:00

Ever since I was a little kid I have had an issue with shouting. I don't like certain noises, and shouting gives me a headache. I particularly don't like shouting indoors, and to be even more specific, shouting from one room to another is up there with the best, we are talking migraine noise level capacity. It is not so much the volume, but the fact that it usually requires a response from me, who is in the other room, and I have to strain myself to get heard and that takes physical energy and boom! - there you go - bring on the headache.
It also implies that what you are doing isn't that important since if you don't want to shout back, you have to stop what you are doing and walk away from it in order to keep up the conversation. It is a disrespectful interruption when in reality, all the person needed to do is to walk over to you, like you would in any other civilized situation and talk to you in a normal voice.

This morning I was in the bathroom doing my beauty regime (one layer of mascara and a pimple squeeze) whilst talking to my husband when he suddenly leaves the room and disappears upstairs.
- Oh, and another thing! I hear him shout down the stairs.
- Uh huh.
No response. Of course - he's upstairs. But I am not leaving the mirror. The pimple needs covering up, he knows where I am. To talk to him I would have to walk out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and out in to the family room so that I can communicate up the stairs which feels like an unfair amount of interruption on my behalf since I only have two minutes to get myself presentable before I have to take off.
He shouts my name:
- Honey!?
- Yes! I shout back as loud as I can. Not annoyed, just to mark: I am down here - love of my life.

And there it is, the headache, in my head, and the sulky mood, coming towards me with in shape of my husband thundering downstairs.
- Well, forget about it, then. If you're gonna have an attitude about it, I'm not going to tell you.
He's saying this in a normal voice, speaking slowly and clearly, whilst standing outside the bathroom, to make sure I can really hear him.

Food

2010-05-27T14:38:00.001-07:00

I am not seriously worried about this, so please don't start talking "eating disorder" after this post. It's not that, it is just a very, very annoying habit of talking and being preoccupied, and therefor forgetting that you don't have three hours to finish your school lunch.
Kate has come home with a more than empty lunch box several days in a row now. At first we kind of let it slide, because we don't like making a big thing out of food, but yesterday she was completely listless at pick-up, complained about a headache and went straight to bed and fell asleep when we came home.
So we needed to have a big talk. About food, energy, growing, staying healthy, and the relationship between them all.
Not the first time we have done this. Will it be the last....?

Spring time

2010-05-25T09:15:00.000-07:00

There are only a few more weeks of school and after that we have a nice, long summer vacation to look forward to. When I grew up this was usually my favorite time of the year. Spring had arrived, the trees were green, everything was in blossom, it was getting warmer, the evenings lighter, and there was a general feel of mellowing out, taking it slow and hanging out.
But since moving to Norcal, where we have no seasons, just different shades of fog and sometimes rain, I don't get that feeling of excitement and anticipation, mostly because I forget what time it is, there are no daffodils to remind me....

There are so many things I love about living out here, but clearly defined seasons are one of the things I miss the most.

play date

2010-05-18T13:56:00.001-07:00

When I was growing up in the 70's (oh yes, back in the days) I lived in a very safe neighborhood with a nice park right opposite my house, and lot's of children. We used to play everywhere, for hours, without our parent's really knowing where we were. As long as we kept our curfew and didn't break anyone or anything, we were good. The group of kids where very diverse. It was boys and girls, different ages, from different socio-economic backgrounds. Siblings and only children, they goody two-shoes and the ADD's, all playing together, having fun and working it out as we went along. As I said, we were not particularly supervised and sometimes I think our parent's would have gasped in horror if they knew how we resorted to solve some of our more intricate personal or practical issues. But we did OK. And it was part of growing up.
The important thing to remember here is that our parents usually sent us out to play because they had jobs to do, or dinner to cook, or they simply didn't feel like entertaining us and was going crazy because of the noise level.

Today, we don't send children out to play because we need time, instead, the playdate has become yet another thing to cram in to our already busy schedule. it needs to be planned, scheduled and organized with a level of invention and creativity that surpasses even the most clever of pre-school teachers.

I find that we focus to hard on shaping experiences that won't actually provide anything to our children's well-being. We try to hard to find the perfect friendship-match. We select and choose their friends based on soccer-skills, number of siblings, or which company the parent's happen to work for. After a certain age boys have to play with boys, and girls need to stick with girls. We ferry them from one organized activity to the next and cramp in 15 minutes of climbing time on the play structure in between. But most importantly: we don't just let our children get on with it.
I am sad to see that we try to lay it out for them, nicely presented, all details taken care off, without even thinking about whether this is actually going to benefit our kids or not.
I know that today's society looks different from what it did 30 years ago, I appreciate that we can't just open up the doors and let the kids run around to the same extent as we used to do, but why make it any worse than it already is?
Why does every playdate have to planned down to the last cup-cake? Why do we have to organize everything according to a set schedule all the time?

When Leo was born I couldn't keep up with the level of energy required for some of Kate's more elaborate play-dates and so I made an unconscious decision to just remove ourselves from the play date scene. These days, playdates look like this: drop them of at our house whenever you like, and pick them up whenever you like (without pushing it too far....). Please prepare your child that there will be no organized fun or scheduled activities, nor will I step in as play-mentor during the inevitable times of temporary boredom. Your child should be positive, and not expect anything beyond normal dietary food-staples on the snack plate, however, should he/she wish to add a little sugar on top, a nice word goes a long way.
Feel free to reciprocate the invite and in return: my child does not expect miracles!

2010-05-15T16:57:00.000-07:00

I haven't been able to write for a while but I will be back next week. Until then I leave you with these very wise words from Kate:

Nothing is impossible, except for some things.
Like, it is impossible for ice-cream not to melt when you're eating it in the sun.

Oh my, oh dear

2010-05-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

The sun is coming out and Kate needed shorts. I take her to Gap and tell her to pick out a bunch of shorts that she likes and then we can try them out to find her one or two pairs that fit.
She goes for denim, the skinny, knee-length one's with little sparkles and embroideries on. They are all very cute, and very cool. She's beaming on her way to the fitting-room.
- You're the best mummy! I love you so much! she says. You let me pick my own clothes instead of telling me what to wear.

I smile, but inside I'm shaking.
It won't be long before this changes. Very soon we will have blazing rows about her dress-sense. She will express herself through clothes more than now, in a more intense way, and I will only see negatives.
I treasure these moments for now.
Kate, you are always going to be my little girl, but soon there will come a day when you will hate me more than you can possibly imagine.

Reading that will make you see red - if you are a woman, that is

2010-05-04T14:00:00.000-07:00

Amnesty International recently released a report claiming that two to three women die every day in the US due to pregnancy and birth-related issues. It also claimed that pregnancy-related complications leading to near death - "near misses" has risen by 25% since 1998.
Not surprisingly, minorities such as Native and African American, and women in low-income groups are most affected.

The reasons are many, but none of them acceptable to a first world country as the US: health-care being one of the main culprits since it is leaving many women without of with inefficient pre-natal care but other reasons, such as Doctor-lead deliveries which are resulting in a larger number of inductions and c-sections than necessary are also significantly increasing risks of failure and putting far too many women at risk before and during birth.

So, add to this, insufficient maternity leave and expensive childcare, where does this leave US on the map for good places to be a mother? Number 28, according to a report made by Save the Children. It is interesting to note that 4 of the top 5 countries are Scandinavian (Norway, Iceland, Sweden and Denmark).
It is something to think about.

2010-05-01T23:12:00.000-07:00

Taking Kate to her swimming lesson on Saturday mornings has become an issue of some arguments between me and my husband. It is something about having to wait around with the other parents that always puts us in a bad mood. Their kids are pushy, spoiled, whinging and bratty. They scream, talk back to their parents, and have pushed Leo of a play-structure more than once without ever getting reprimanded.
But the parents also seem to all come from a Stepford suburb.They are so far from natural, down-to-earth, chilled and laid-back that it is exhausting just listening to them interact.
To them, swim lesson seem to be a drill, a military operation, that needs to be managed and controlled by carefully used encouragements from the pool side.
I don't know why they need to use "the voice", why they have to talk REALLY LOUDLY or why they need to pronounce e-v-e-r-y- s-i-n-g-l-e word r-e-a-l-l-y- s-l-o-w-l-y.
Y-o-u-'-r-e k-i-d w-i-l-l u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d y-o-u - n-o n-e-e-d t-o s-h-o-u-t!

Then I realized, after having had a dad shout in my ear while he was talking to his daughter:
- You did some awesome up-faces today! Boy, it sure is crowded in here. Hey sugar-top. Let's go put on your bright sparkling t-shirt, sweet girl, and go have some fun in the park.
The sentence reads very innocent, I realize that. But add to that a voice so animated, so over-the-top-enthusiastic and so incredibly fake, you will wish that you were very far away.
There is only one place he could've picked it up from:
By watching Clifford the Big Red Dog.
Please - parent, don't copy your kid's cartoon. It's a children's show. Not a lesson on eloquence.
Use you're own language, and talk to your children like they are normal human beings - because they are. They live in the real world, amongst real people and you are not part of some dream-land fairy tale cartoon where you get to talk in a mock voice. Be yourself!

2010-04-30T12:26:00.000-07:00

I like reading the Bad Mommy Blogger and this post could have been me writing it. Of course I had to reply to it.

Playground twist

2010-04-30T12:12:00.000-07:00

There is still tension in Kate's friendship circle and she is beginning to get pushed out. She has started to play with some other girls at recess, and I am strongly encouraging this. It is like reliving primary school all over again, all the politics and strategies, there is nothing new, nothing changes in children's games.
I feel sorry for Kate, but I am also very proud of her for sticking to what she believes in. They are three girls: the manipulator, the follower, and Kate who's kind of the mediator. The manipulator is using bribes and promises on the follower, but it didn't work on Kate and I guess that is why she being deemed an un-safe bet. Kate doesn't like bribes. She wants loyalty, and most of all, she wants to just play. She doesn't like the politics and that's why she's walking away.
So I am sad for her because she's loosing her friends, but so, so happy that she is doing what she believes is right, instead of sticking with a bad deal.
That takes courage!

Ms Paltrow

2010-04-29T13:36:00.000-07:00

As much as I need the time off, when I am away from my children for more than 24 hours I tend to start missing them. By the time I come back home from wherever I am, I tend to wonder why I needed to get away from them so desperately in the first place. But I am a firm believer that parents and children do need time off from each other - absence makes the heart grow fonder, that is very true.

The British paper Guardian slammed Gwyneth Paltrow for one of her recent quotes. The mother of two told a reporter that being away from her children is often the within the nature of her work, and that she would miss her children like crazy. She added that she would cry in her trailer thinking about her off springs taking a bath at home. This is what got the columnist Deborah Orr's back up: it is OK to say that we miss our children, but crying - but admitting to cry (this detail is unclear) is over-indulgent, and only feed in to the belief system that women become weaker and less dependable in professional situations after they have children.

Fair point or harsh criticism?

I myself don't tend to cry when I think about my children. I am not consumed by over-whelming, gut-wrenching guilt if I happen to miss my children's bed time routine for a few days. The thought of them usually makes me smile, not cry. I am confident in my abilities as a mother, and 100% sure that my children are happy even when I am not around.
But was I so inclined, like Ms Paltrow, to break down in the lonely company of myself, every time I thought of my children, and if me missing them became such an over-whelming feeling of sadness, I would probably choose to try to arrange my work-parenting situation accordingly.
I hate to say this, but Ms Paltrow is fortunate enough (and this is a huge privilege) to afford a certain flexibility in her life choices, something a lot of us simply can't do.

I know what you did last summer....

2010-04-28T18:17:00.000-07:00

I don't belong to any local online parenting sites, and today I was reminded on why. I had tea and a play date at a friends house when she told me that she had joined one of the local forums but that it was beginning to get on her nerves as all the postings was either heated arguments about vaccinations, breast and bottle feeding and stay at home versus work.
And one other thing:
Nanny-bashing.
Every day she read at least one new thread along the lines of:
To the mother of the toddler in a green stroller with a nanny wearing x in such and such park/playground/library/toddler group - please be aware that your nanny let your child cry for 30 seconds before responding,
or
did you know that your nanny doesn't wipe his/her nose properly after sneezing.

Some of the alerts were more serious. Like: she talked to her friends while your child was about to climb up the play-structure/walk out of the playground/put a small, unidentified object in his/her mouth.

This is such a huge, gaping big black hole of a grey area that it is hard to cover it all in one small blog post.
As a mother with a part-time nanny I am the first one to admit that I would like to know everything, I mean e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g, that goes on while they are together. But on the other hand: I wouldn't have employed her in the first place if I didn't feel one hundred and a gazillion percent sure that I could trust her with my child.
Thing does happen, though, there are enough scary stories in the papers to prevent us from feeling completely relaxed about leaving our children in a paid care situation.
I just do hope that the people posting these alerts have a very genuine reason for doing so and are not simply exaggerating a perfectly normal situation. How can we know? We won't. We just have to trust our better judgement, the alerter, as well as the parent on the receiving end.

End off

2010-04-28T12:12:00.001-07:00

The email from the pre-school arrived a few hours ago, we have space.
Another thing to tick of my list.
I am relieved. I really sympathise with those families who are still fighting the powers that be regarding the children's school, may it be pre-school, kindergarten or higher. Something that should be so obvious: good, reliable, safe and affordable childcare and education, is one of the most frustrating and stressful processes parent's have to endure in this country.

Bed time

2010-04-27T19:04:00.000-07:00

If I had a dollar for every night Leo kicks up a tantrum when I utter the word Bedtime, I would be living in a very big house with no mortgage right now.
I don't get this. How can it come as a surprise, night after night after night. It's seven o'clock - time for bed.
Darn it - tonight again??? But I went to be last night. And the night before that!!!
This is one of the most boring, predictable, and downright frustrating parenting - routine's, I think. You are so tired anyway, and to have to fight, yet again, the same battle, abuse the same arguments, listen to the same falsetto crying - again, is torture.
This is one of the only times I actually wish I was a man, or my husband, to be more specific. All he has to do is to use a very serious voice, and there are no tears, just plain sailing.
It's so unfair.

2010-04-26T16:25:00.001-07:00

I think my stress and sleepless nights paid off: I think Leo has a pre-school place in September. It's a half-day immersion program in a very intimate setting, great outside space and nice in-door facilities, not too far away from our home!
I need to see this in email-writing before I can fully relax (I happened to run in to one of the administrator's today and she told me she was just about to email me) but she wouldn't say this if she didn't mean it, would she???
Up-date to follow, but I think I can sleep well tonight!

Tell me what you think!

2010-04-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

Speaking of autism, this advertising campaign is running across the UK prior to the general election. The mother behind the campaign (and the face on the picture) was interviewed on BCC's Woman's hour a few days ago and she said that unfortunately, two perky breasts was the only thing she could think off that she'd be sure would draw enough attention to the cause.

I feel very divided. In one way I think it is a bold and courageous statement, on the other hand I think it is a sad state of affair in the country of tabloids and page 3 models.
So what do you think?
Clever or just plain sexist?

Hard knock life

2010-04-22T14:06:00.000-07:00

Today I was chaperoning when Kate's school went on a theater field-trip. It was a normal trip, some hyper-activity due to excitement or boredom, some arguments, some laughter and an OK production of a children's story I had never heard of before.
On our way out, there were the usual scrum for the stairs and I got caught behind a little boy around 4 years old who was trying to slide down by holding on to the rails. I didn't pay much attention 'cos I was busy not loosing sight of the kids when the mother urges to boy to step out of the way and then turns to me, very flustered and apologetic:
- I am so sorry. He's A-U-T-I-S-T-I-C.

I was very taken back by this. Not only did the boy display what I find is normal, healthy, physical boy-behavior. There was absolutely no need for the mother to apologise, and defiantly no need to use her child's condition as excuse. I didn't even think twice about what he was doing, after all, every single boy and half of the girls in Kate's class had been sliding down the same rails 30 seconds earlier.

I felt really bad. Is this what us parent's do to each other? Do we make each other feel so inadequate that we feel the need to constantly define our children openly in order to have them and their traits "explained and excused"? Imagine me trying to cover up the rambunctious behavior of a school class of 19 trying to keep quiet during a theatre performance:
- I am so sorry. They are E-I-G-H-T Y-E-A-R O-L-D-S.

We're taking a few steps

2010-04-21T14:17:00.000-07:00

We must be the only family in the world who are looking to deliberately downsize by moving from a single family house to a condo.
Well, maybe not really downsizing, anyone's who's spent any time in my rented home knows it's not a big space, but it is single family (ie: no sensitive neighbors underneath or noisy ditto's upstairs.)
But after two years, we have finally given up the impossible quest for the perfect house in the right location because let's face it: for under 3 mil it doesn't exist. Instead, we are condo-hunting, and hopefully reaping some of the benefits along with this, smaller mortgage being the biggest (and maybe only) one so far.
I am meeting with a broker who has worked in our area for 30 plus years. Let's hope she can spot the right deal for a family of four - we certainly can't seem to find it.
Fingers crossed.

Happy, messy home

2010-04-20T12:34:00.000-07:00

It's taken a stupid long time since last blog post again. It's been spring break, and I have taken the opportunity to spend some time with the family.
On Saturday we went to dinner at some friends who have children the same age as Kate and Leo. It was a lovely home, very inclusive, toys in every corner and children's artwork on the walls. The kids shared the bigger of the two bed rooms and but they had still very much put their imprint of the rest of the living space as well. I envy these homes, because I always get the feeling that these are happy, loving homes to families that are very much in harmony with each other. I think I actually need to infuse a little warmth in my own home and not be so ready to tidy away the toys as soon as it's gone time for teeth brushing.
I just don' really cope well with abandoned toys on the floor. I don't mind it when I visit other families, but when I have to live in a chaos of Barbie clutter and scattered Hot wheels cars myself I break out in a rash.

Tonight I am going to try to leave the Tonka fire engine and the building blocks on the floor in the dining room and ignore the sea of crayons and paper crumbs on the rug in the living room. I am going to walk right past the sneakers hiding behind the book bag and forget the pile of Duplo's that are invading the kitchen floor.
Let's see how far I can make it.

Conversations with Kate

2010-04-08T15:52:00.000-07:00

Kate talked about some boys in her class today. She came to the conclusion that they were quite sensitive and over reactionary a lot of the time.
- If they don't win the game they are playing they say that the other person is cheating, and if that person says "no I didn't" - because they probably didn't - they will start crying. Or they get really angry.
- Who are these boys? I ask, and Kate give me some familiar names.
I can't help but plant a seed in her head.
- Isn't it funny, I say, that these are the same boys that are saying that boys are better than girls, and that girls can't do anything.
- Yeah. I guess so.
- Think about that the next time they tease you for getting an answer wrong. Think about who the real cry-baby is.

I know this is a gung-ho approach to Feminism 101 when it comes to your 8 year old daughter, but I need to grab every opportunity. It's a jungle out there, and sisters need to be doing it for themselves.

The Mother Trap

2010-04-05T19:14:00.000-07:00

My husband and I have started counseling to iron out some of the stress-related issues we have, and we came to this conclusion: US is finally getting to me.
The overwhelming feeling of not being in control over my life is consuming me from the moment I wake up til the second I go to sleep at night. The fear of forgetting to do something, everything - the constant worry that my elaborately designed work-flow will collapse around me and that I will fail.
I have been caught up in the Mother-Trap, the very trap I have been writing about and heavily criticized for the last year.
This shall be continued....

And here we are complaining about today's youth.

2010-04-01T17:35:00.000-07:00

Kate's friend asked me for a cinnamon bun after school and I happily gave her one from my bag (no, I didn't make them, a friend did...).
- Thank you. You are so polite, said the little eight year old.
- How sweet, I said to Kate as we walked to the car.
- Yes. She's very mild mannered, Kate replied.

8 going on 65?

Pre school update

2010-03-31T16:09:00.001-07:00

So sheer determination, or rather: good old-fashioned hard cash, paid off, and next week I have two tours at pre-schools with guaranteed availability.
Fingers crossed I will like them.
That would be one less stress to cross of my very long list of things that keep me up at night.

More pre school

2010-03-30T15:47:00.000-07:00

I had a meeting with the "school-hunter" today. They had a couple of suggestions lined up for me that I tried out as soon as I got back home.
On the whole, they didn't do anything that I couldn't have done on my own, with some sheer determination and stubbornness, but I tell myself that their name weighs heavier than mine when it comes to the phone calls.
Fingers crossed - I'll keep you posted.

Flying without baggage

2010-03-30T07:40:00.000-07:00

I belong to a mother/toddler group where most mothers happen to be expats, just like myself. We do the usual stuff, playground get-togethers, the occasional early dinner with a glass of wine, and an emailing list for general chit chat and advice.
The other day I got this email:

I am planning to fly to Europe this summer, with my two children (5 and 1 years old) - if anyone is planning on flying around the same time it would be great to have some company. It would make kids entertaining and potty visits much easier.

I am the first one to admit that mother's have to stick together, and we should really be there for each other.
But on an 10 hour plus flight, I really want to get my kids of to sleep and then try to get some much needed sleep myself before hell breaks loose again at the luggage claim and passport control. Getting in sync - and looking after - another two kids is not my idea of even a remotely less stressful journey.

I apologise profusely, but I won't be good travelling company.
Sorry

In the papers

2010-03-29T07:34:00.000-07:00

Yet another article from the British newspaper The Guardian, dealing with the constant guilt that overwhelms mother's who feel useless and as if what they are doing is never good enough.

Solutions?

2010-03-28T16:35:00.000-07:00

I am throwing money at the problem, and will pay a professional "school-hunter" to find a preschool place for Leo.
Its either that or basically have no sleep from now until mid-August.
I am meeting with her on Tuesday.

Girl trouble

2010-03-27T08:56:00.001-07:00

There are trouble in Kate's world. Her two BFF's are kind of clicking up and carefully giving her the elbow. They make her feel left out. Often she comes home from school sad and quiet and in her own thoughts.
It kills me watching her, and having to try to give her pep talks when all I want to do is go down there and give those girls a piece of my mind. The thing with Kate is, for all of her eight years, she's incredibly loyal and without a doubt the best friend anyone could ever wish for. I really feel that she deserves the same thing back. I really would like to tell her to just turn her back on these girls, go re-group. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I keep quiet, because I can tell it doesn't do her any favors. There are plenty other girl friends out there. But Kate's loyalty (or insecurity?) tells her to stick with what she's got. And so the circle continues.

I give her very big hugs every night, and I keep telling her that she's an incredible little girl. That's all I can do for now.

Thank you

2010-03-26T10:51:00.000-07:00

Thank you so much for the two lovely comments on yesterday's blogpost.
Now I just need to get my seven twitter followers to stay too. I twitter maybe once a week. I have a feeling that's not the kind of traffic they intended when they came up with the tweeting idea...
There is a lot going on at the moment. I have sleepless nights worrying about Leo's pre-school situation, and things are heating up between Kate and her two BFF's. They have decided to quietly give her the elbow. Her service's as friend are no longer needed. She comes home from school upset and sad. I feel helpless and useless. And also have strong bouts of de ja vue. It's like being back in school again - literally, reliving every single excruciating moment of the horrible time that was school, and so badly not wanting your daughter to have to go through the same thing herself. She'll be OK though. She's a tough cookie.
On top of that, the husband and I are beginning counselling next week.
This is an anonymous blog, so I can write about this. We need some help getting out of the negative spiral that is the every day of stressed out parents. Nothing to be ashamed about.
But it's all time-consuming, and time, as all parents know, is valuable, and scarce.
Thanks for staying with me,
love
angrymother

I am so sorry

2010-03-25T19:06:00.001-07:00

I feel very ashamed because I haven't blogged for a long time now. The seven readers I have must be giving up on me by now. I am not proud of myself. I really wanted my blog to be buzzing with angry rants and cool tips about parenting, instead, there are occasional musings and long silences in between.
All I can say is that a mother has to take breaks too. A mother suddenly finds herself lost for words and overwhelmed with the daily stress of plain life.
Please, stay with me - I will come back.
I promise!!!

More about yesterday

2010-03-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

So before getting all depressed about Leo's pre-school I had an acupuncture appointment and as I was talking to my Doctor she inquired about my general health. I started complaining about terrible PMS, bloating and discomfort.
- On top of that I am three days late.
She gave me a funny look.
- So you're not pregnant, then?
- No.
- How do you know?
- I don't believe in immaculate conception.
She laughed:
- Why not the second coming? Don't you think San Francisco would be ready for a Jesus?

After my appointment I went straight to Walgreen's and my husband, who sometimes reads what I write, will be pleased to know that Jesus is not coming to town, or, if he is, I am not his mother Mary.
Today was a little quieter, more of a normal, boring, kind of day. I like those days better.

Not a great start to the week

2010-03-15T13:46:00.000-07:00

So all four of Leo's pre school app's have now been rejected, and I am finding myself feeling zapped of energy. The hard work has not even begun yet.

I didn't realize I would take it as personally as I did, especially by the one pre school who's actually met Leo as they had a personal play assessment with him - what do they mean by rejecting him? How dare they? He's the sweetest, funniest, and most adorable boy ever, have they no shame??

Home schooling seems like the most likely option right now.
And potty training, of course.
And moving back to Europe.

the List

2010-03-11T14:21:00.000-08:00

Last night I watched the mediocre and only slightly funny movie Motherhood on DVD, you know the one starring Uma Thurman as a NY writer mom trying to juggle home, children and a sense of self (sounds familiar?) whilst all the elements go against her on a daily basis. Yeah, I don't think you have to fight street cleaning in the trendy Village neighborhood to feel that you are a lost cause, but there was one thing that struck a familiar chord with me, namely The List.

My lists, which are everywhere, multiple copies and nicely duplicated, don't read:

milk
dry cleaning
order birth day cake

No, a list is by the second re count of my life, down to the very last sip of coffee. Without The Lists, I would not function, and my family would collapse:

wake up
get dressed
throw PJ's in laundry basket
make breakfast
pack lunch
street cleaning (doesn't matter - we get tickets anyways)
fold laundry
make coffee
write email
write in email: Hi, would you like to come to dinner Saturday.
Call Doctor
Ask Doctor for renewed prescriptions of Everything
Email x, y, and z for playdates
pick up at school
bring snack in car
laundry in tumble dryer
fold laundry
food shopping (refer to another List)
call husband, tell him you love him
make lists for tomorrow
make lists for weekend
cross of things you've done on List
make coffee
peel potatoes
homework
don't forget to eat dinner
don't forget to drink 8 glasses of water
bed time
story time
relax
read book
don't forget to wash face before bedtime
check to make sure kids are in designated beds
kiss them good night
tuck them in
make sure you go bed before falling asleep on sofa
kiss husband goodnight
tell him you love him
sleep
wake up

Here we go

2010-03-10T13:51:00.000-08:00

I had my first pre-school rejection letter yesterday. OK, so it was from one of the schools I applied to but didn't follow up with the tour since it was too expensive and not really my choice anyway, but there you go: the start of what might be a long line of very sad letters...

Couples maths

2010-03-08T11:03:00.001-08:00

A friend of mine is going through a rough marital patch and has turned to couple's counseling.
- The worst thing is, I always felt that counseling was the first stop on the way towards the inevitable end, she says. It's like we're just giving ourselves a grace period because we're too chicken to take the finally step, too scared to face the truth. And ultimately, I think we actually both would like to go our separate ways.
They have two children in private school, and only one income. They live in a decent single family house that they are paying a big mortgage on, and the kids take a number of after school activities.

- The best thing for us would be to separate, and live apart, so that our arguing doesn't interfere with the kids all the time, but we simply can't afford it. We have to work this out. It's a financial cul de sac. We're spending a shed load of money to stay together because we can't afford to spend any money to move apart. Never mind the kids having their parents in the same house - this is cold, hard cash we're talking about.

So you paid for the over the top wedding, probably spending a little more than you could realistically afford on the caterer and the flower arrangements, and then you went all out on the family abode, now you are being punished for your audacity to be a little extravagant, and 'til love do us part is really just another way of saying: you made your financial bed now sleep in it you sucker.
So the best financial investment you can do as a family is to not make any financial investments, that way you can afford to have second thoughts somewhere down the road, should it not work out.
As for my friend, she's seeing the therapist once a week until she can't afford to any longer. By then she's keeping her fingers crossed that they can be civil enough to keep it together until the kids are in college.

Bad language

2010-03-05T09:35:00.000-08:00

I don't mince my words when I get angry. In fact, it's like opening the floodgates to the well of doom.

When Kate grew up, a few bad one's slipped out every now and then, but Kate being the sensible daughter she was - and is - always knew that my choice of vocabulary was never to be copied.
Leo is a completely different matter.
Yesterday, he was sitting next to me, eating plums, while I was trying, and failing, to open a document on my lap top. Finally I let out a big sigh.
- Oh, f***, says Leo, spitting out a plum stone.

Later, I tell my husband. He laughs, and says:
- You need to go back to work full-time so that we can let the babysitter raise our son, 'cos you are a terrible mother.
I know he's right. Either that, or I need to go to charm-school.
- Oh, and I also think I might have heard him say s*** the other day.
- I rest my case, says husband. You're out.

When you are a failure

2010-03-03T10:16:00.000-08:00

How long shall I keep on pretending that all is OK and that I have a normal child when there is clearly something wrong?
Went to play group today and within five minutes, Leo had managed to throw him self on the floor, kick and screaming, because one of the teacher said 'hello', he had snatched a toy out of a 4 months old hand, and pushed another girl three times, whilst growling at her.
Five minutes.
So I packed up and left.
I can't do the softly-softly voice anymore, negotiate and tell him, yet again, that we don't push, let's play nicely, and share.
Can't do it.
So I guess I am going to be pretty isolated from now on, and Leo will just become even more of a monster.
There is nothing that can make you feel like you've failed so utterly miserably as when your child as acting out in all the ways you thought you had raised him not to.

I've had friends who've told me that they stopped going to certain playgrounds or play groups, because their child couldn't behave. I always thought they gave in too easily. I thought: don't let your child run the show, and dictate the terms. It's your life, your day too, show him that he can't spoil it for you.
I know exactly what they are talking about now.

Ever heard of making it easy for yourself?

2010-03-02T11:22:00.000-08:00

It's March, and I am im/patiently waiting to hear from the only two pre-schools we applied to, if Leo has a place after the summer.
Going against the grain, as I usually do, I decided against applying to 30 different schools, mostly because I didn't find 30 schools I like, and also because my life is not just about doing pre-school tours. I also don't have the money required for all the application fees. If my son's future will suffer from this, so may be it.
I also had to limit my choices extensively since I wanted a school that takes non-potty trained children. This is a huge deal breaker for me. I think life with a toddler is hard enough without added pressure. I also believe that potty training is something that the child should be ready for. If you start too early, and the child is not intellectually ready for this process, you are often in for a lot of hard work (and many, many changes of clothes and bed-linen).

This said, out of the two pre-schools I found, and that I really liked and applied to, one of them I have a slim to no chance at all in getting in to. It is hugely popular and the wait list is out of this world. So hat leaves me with only one choice. My number one choice, my only hope.
I have no idea how this will turn out.
I will find out, at some point this month.

There is always home schooling, I guess. Or we just have to live with the fact that while Kate is going to university, Leo will stay at home with us, for ever and ever.....

It's a hard knock life for us

2010-03-01T11:29:00.001-08:00

The Booker Prize winner Hilary Mantel raised some interesting questions about motherhood in an article in the Guardian today, when she suggested that many women would benefit from having babies earlier in life rather than later, but that today's society is build around men's timetables and their idea of education and career as something that needs to be completed first.

Hilary Mantel argues an interesting point, and there is a lot that could be said about her opinions. Women have been fighting for decades for equality and their right to work outside the home. Should we suddenly turn out back on all this and go back to a notion where women are only designed for having babies?
Well, Mantel isn't saying that women should return to homemaking, but what she is saying is that the time when women reach their peak, in their twenties and early thirties, is when society pushes them in to finishing their educations and working hard for a career. This is what they have to do in order to compete with their male counterparts.
But if we could change society's perception of education and career, and rather see this as an on going process that can be developed in bursts throughout our lives, then we could focus on having children at an earlier time as well as fulfilling our working potential.

Not my day

2010-02-26T08:38:00.001-08:00

Whoever thought it would be a good idea for Leo to get ill on the same day the DVD player brakes?
How do you explain to a short tempered 2 year old that he can't watch Thomas, but he can watch Mickey Mouse club house, and that he just has to sit through the commercials.....

We need to trust our teacher

2010-02-25T13:11:00.000-08:00

I couldn't help but listening in to a conversation in the gym locker room this morning. Two mothers exchanged Kindergarten experiences and it seemed they were both very unhappy with the level of communication between teachers and parents.
Turned out that they wanted to know, on a daily basis what little James and Caitlin has been up to. Did they enjoy music, did they have a healthy appetite, did they play, and with what and with whom? Did they solve their maths problems and did they know their alphabet.
- PTC twice a year simply isn't enough, said one of them. If the teacher don't want to talk to me at pick up, at least, we could get a weekly report on, like, a Friday, to tell me what's going on.

This seems to be a common problem here. Parents wants to know everything that is going on in their children's life, and I mean: everything.

I'm not a teacher but the average school class is 20-25 students. If the already over-worked teacher had to write 25 weekly student reports, where would he/she find the time.
This is one of those situations where you, as a parent, simply have to accept that James and Caitlin are growing up, and it is time to cut the cord. And let the teacher's do the job they were trained and hired to do.
Believe me: if the teachers has a reason to talk to you - they will contact you. If you don't hear from them, chances are you have nothing to worry about.
Maybe it is time to work on James' and Caitlin's communication, and not demand more of it from their teachers.

Things that make me see red

2010-02-22T19:39:00.000-08:00

A snotty, out of control three year old who's kicking my son son three times, and hitting him over the face on a play structure whilst his mother his happily chatting away to her friends a few yards away. Once is excusable - we all have children with their bad days and manners and moods. Twice is dubious. Maybe keep him under close watch so that you can quickly intervene if it happens again.
Three times? Come on - it's time to remove him from the playground and ban his afternoon snack.

This is why we love each other

2010-02-20T12:51:00.000-08:00

Some of my SAHM sisters has taken it upon them to make sure that there is always dinner on the table (or at least in a Tupperware in the fridge) for their husbands when they get home from work. This is their part of the deal. He brings home the bacon, she cooks it and places it nicely on a plate for him.
I didn't sign that contract so my husband can't always expect dinner (nor can he expect the kids to always be bathed, in pyjamas, homework done and bed time story out of the way but that's another blop post).
I usually cook something easy for the kids, like pasta or organic sausages with veg. Their schedule is different from ours. They have activities, homework and are hungry earlier than we are. Reheated pasta tastes awful, so there is no point in me cooking enough for myself and my husband to have later. And I'll be damned if I cook two sets of meals every night, I love my personal time after the kids are in bed far too much for that.

- They have it good, he sometimes says, referring to one of our male friends. She's such a good wife to him.
Those of you who don't know my husband might think he's serious but those of you who do know him, knows that he's not.
- Is there dinner, or should I pick something up on my way home? he asks.
- Take out? I retort, more often than I should.
We end up eating scrambled eggs and salad in front of the TV. Or tea and sandwiches.
- You are the best wife, my husband tells me. I don't expect you to cook for me. I don't want you to be one of those wives.
If he really means it, or if he's just telling me what he thinks I want to hear, I don't care to dwell on.
As far as I'm concerned, we're a perfect match.

down in one

2010-02-19T21:51:00.000-08:00

Elin, whatever your decision with regards to your marriage to Tiger Woods, I will support it.
But if you do decide to stay in this marriage, please let it only be so that you can milk him of more money when you divorce him at a later date.
Today, he showed, once and for all that he really, really doesn't deserve you by his side.
The apology was staged, week and insincere.
Oh, and three months too late.
Truly pathetic.

To get by with a little help from a friend

2010-02-18T10:20:00.000-08:00

We talked about our ambivalent feelings towards out lots as mothers in play group one day. Since I was the one with the longest track record as a SAHM, one of the other, part-time working mothers, asked me: how have you been able to do it for so long, without going absolutely completely insane?
Well, believe me, my sanity is long gone, and I am a mere shadow of my former self, but my reply was, without hesitation:
- You have to find a friend. Someone in the same situation, with children roughly the same age. But not only that. She has to be someone you would have been friends with even if you didn't have children.
That's the tricky part. You have to go out there and look long and hard until you find someone that you really can talk to. Where do you find this fellow mother?
Well, she's out there, somewhere you just have to look. Pushing a screaming toddler on the swing or doing the library reading time for the fourth day in a row - she's there.
Talk to her.
But if she insists on sharing teething traumas and best food mixers for purees, politely but adamantly steer the conversation away. You want to know if you like the same music. Watch the same movies. Knitting or crocheting? Cats or dogs? Camping or five star accommodations. Should Brad go back to Jen?
This is very important.
Because if you can't talk about the other stuff, you will never be able to really support each other through the baby-shit. This is someone you will spend a lot of time with. If you find the right mate, you might end up spending several hours, several days a week with this person. This will be the person that makes your life worth living. She will see your good sides, but more often, she will see your bad sides. So it is important that you are comfortable with her doing that, otherwise you won't be able to be your self. Trust me on this one. When the guards are down and you haven't had any sleep for five days and you're about to deal with the eleventh tantrum in an hour, could you really do this comfortably in front of someone who thinks Brad should stick with Angelina?
And when you are so baby-talked out that you will hit the next person who tries to share yet another cutesy story about some trivial baby revelation, you need to know that your friend will be OK if you move on to a quick re-cap of the latest Survivors.
Think about it. It has to be a perfect match for this to work.

Yep. Your fellow mother will be right hand woman, partner in crime, confidante and shoulder to cry on. She will become your new BFF through your journey as a mother and should be picked with great care and finesse. And if you find her, your life as a mother will suddenly have a new meaning. It will suddenly feel OK to be a SAHM.
She is out there, there is always someone for everyone. Take your time, try some on for size, see which ones fits the best and then make your decision. I am a great believer in soul mates:).
Dedicated to M and J - without you things back then would have been very, very different, xxxx

Noise is noise but sounds different to everyone

2010-02-17T16:34:00.000-08:00

Any one who has tried to keep a toddler to play quietly for more than 10 seconds know that this is something of an impossible contradiction in it self. Toddlers, and children all ages, just don't play with the volume turned down. They can be quiet for a while, but rest assured, they all go up to eleven, sooner or later.
This has been recognised in Berlin, Germany today when a law was amended to exempt children from noise pollution. They can run, play, bounce balls, and generally cause a wild rumpus as long as they comply to the normal standards of quiet time, IE Sundays, and evenings.

An older friend of mine in the UK had recently moved in to her dream apartment, a ground floor flat overlooking a beautiful shared back yard which she shared with another five tenants, when she noticed that two other families had small children ranging from the ages of 2 and 7. The kids behaved as all kids. They woke up early, played chase around the flat, ran scooters up and down the badly isolated hard wood floors, and after breakfast they would all gather in the back yard and play ball and hide and seek, all the while using the full resources of their young voices while calling out for each other.
My friend found this intolerable. She couldn't understand the nerve of the parents who'd let this go on while decent people, like herself, tried to rest up on a Saturday morning after a long week at work. She felt that her privacy, and her dream, had been invaded by barbarians. She would wake up early in the morning and just lie in bed wide awake, waiting for the noise to start. She no longer felt she could keep the windows open to the yard for fresh air, she couldn't enjoy her coffee and papers in the afternoons. Her routines where no longer her own. Even though she was single and had no children of her own, she had to take other people in to consideration, and plan around other peoples lives in order to live her own life as she saw fit. She was distraught.
I suggested that she should, politely and humbly, talk to the families and see if they could come to some sort of compromise.
- Let them know what time you usually wake up in the mornings and maybe they could stick the kids in front of the TV until then. But living in a big city, noise kind of comes as part of the package.
It wasn't good enough. She stayed for another two months, then decided to sell up and move further out.
I understand how she felt. All she wanted was some peace and quiet.
But I can also understand the poor families with their children and their games, and toys. Try to keep it down? Eh.... what?
There are limits to anyone's patience, and I am a self-confessed bi*** when it comes to unruly children. But normal noise is normal.
If you don't like children - don't live next to a school. If you can't stand kids crying and screaming, don't sit next to them on the bus.
But parents: please respect that not all people think that little Charlie's cries of joy, and his snotty nose, and his incessant rants about snacks and his tantrums are as charming as you do when we all share a crowded bus on our way home in rush-hour traffic or try to have a lie in on a Saturday morning.

bed time routine, helicopter parenting gone very wrong

2010-02-16T09:43:00.000-08:00

An anonymous mother posted a cry for help on an online parent chat forum about bed-time routines gone wrong:
"We have very good bedtime routines for our 5 year old boy. Massage, TV for 5 minutes and then we take him to his bedroom (we all share the same bedroom). We ask him if he'd like one of us to stay with him until he falls asleep, but he doesn't want to, and we allow him to stay in the bedroom alone and play until he gets tired. When that happens, he gets to go to bed by himself (I can see the bedroom for the other rooms in the apartment, so he is safe). Lately, he is up playing until midnight, and then he complains that he has bad thoughts. So he does this when he is his most tired, and says he thinks about elephants stomping around in the room, and I explain that there are no elephants in his room, and tell him to back to his room to either go to bed or play, but after 5 minutes he comes back again and start moaning about bad thoughts, and after the 4th or 5th time I loose my patience and tell him to just go to his room and stop thinking about it. I can't handle this, I don't think he has bad thoughts, I think that his craving attention, that he has turned down the offer of us staying with him until it suits him. How do I approach this? I feel that it is getting out of hand. Why does he always come to me, why not the father?"
Oh, dear. Where does one begin?
I try to stay away from chat forums as they only spark unnecessary aggression a lot of the times, but this time I felt inclined to answer. My reply?

"You say you have a good bed time routine, but as far as I can see, you have no bed time routine. A five year old is far from old enough to decide his own bedtime, nor should he be forced to make decisions about this (and he's not reverting his decision 4 hours later to spite you, I promise!). He's looking to you to sort this out for him. It is up to you, his parents, to create a solid, consistent routine, one which you won't stray from, and that he will recognize from one day to another. Brush his teeth, wash, read a story, have a little talk in bed with only the bed light on and the good night. And when it's bed time, he needs to stay in bed. It might take a few weeks to sort out, but trust me, you owe this to him."

I wonder what super-nanny would say about this:)?

2010-02-14T14:57:00.000-08:00

OK, here we go - again. Why is it a mother's lot to fall ill with whatever flu's and aches her children decide to pass on, and not the father? After all, she is the one who still have to be well enough to take care of them...
I will take advantage of it being a three day weekend and stay in bed.

2010-02-13T10:29:00.000-08:00

I need to work on my negotiation skills.
I wanted to go to the movies with a friend at 5, and offered my husband to take the kids to swimming in the morning in return.
This has now turned in to: I'll take the kids from 7 in the morning, give them breakfast, pack swim kit, get them dressed and washed, make sure Kate does her violin lesson, take them swimming and give them lunch and then drop Kate of at a friends house while he sleeps in and has a generally good day.

I really, really need to work on my negotiation skills.....

Different country, same worries

2010-02-12T12:00:00.001-08:00

French feminist Elisabeth Badinter is criticizing the new "motherhood brand" in her new book Conflict, Women and Mothers. The 65 year old author claims that new mothering trends dictates everything from long women should breastfeed, what they should be feeding their children, if they should take pain killers while giving birth (no) and this leads to more women staying at home rather than going back to work after the birth of their children.
Being the "perfect mother" is a backlash rather than emancipation, and a trend we should be very careful to follow.

Things you find in hair

2010-02-12T09:21:00.000-08:00

Lice check in school today. Why can't parents take their time to wash their kids hair before sending them to a lice check.
I found:

dandruff - mild or heavier
hairspray - old, stiff, at least a few days old
hairband - tangled up, impossible to get out of hair
glitter - assorted colors, enough to make a valentine's card
glue

No lice though.

(sometimes) breast is best? Bullsh*t!

2010-02-10T10:00:00.000-08:00

I read this reader confession on the BadMommyBlogger site the other day, about breastfeeding, and how she felt that it shouldn't be anyone's business if she chose to bottlefeed her child. It stirred some emotions inside me, I had to leave a reply to the writer to support her quest:

Good for you girl! I tried breastfeeding my first whilst fighting severe PPD, having everyone around pushing me to keep trying while all I wanted was to (literally) kill myself. With the second one it was an obvious choice - bottle all the way. And even though I live in one of the most liberal city's on the utmost western part of this country (yes, SF) I managed to raise so many eyebrows I found a great competitor to plastic surgery. This is your choice and yours only. No one has the right to tell you anything! Believe me, there are times I want to say something to those mothers who are happily breastfeeding a clingy, whiny, 3 year old, but I refrain from doing it, because it is their choice, and I don't need to spend time with them if it bothers me that much. I am all for the fact that you have to sacrifice a part of yourself, and your life, when you have children, that's what parenthood is all about, but not at the COST of your own well-being and sanity. You have to be a happy mother to take care of your kids!

Bottom line is, all those smug "breast is best" mother should stop and consider one thing:
To force breast-feeding on mothers today is the biggest hypocrisy in a society which does everything to discourage it.
Fine, so smug breast-people out there have managed to dodge all the pit-falls of modern society and carved themselves a nice little utopia of breast feeding and Attachement Parenting, but the rest of us actually - by choice or not - live in the real world, and try our hardest to work around the increasingly tough demands that are forced upon us while raising our children.
We all try to do what is best for our children, to assume anything else is sheer ignorance. It might just not be to everyone elses taste, but please, keep it to yourselves.

This is not on

2010-02-09T07:00:00.000-08:00

A friend told me that he had managed to get 5 hours sleep on a recent cross Atlantic flight despite screaming baby and a year old who watched Dora the Explorer in flight entertainment with volume up and no headphones.
I do a lot to keep my kids happy on a long flight, but Dora??? no headphones!!!
She's the most annoying excuse for kids TV I know.
Why didn't anyone complain to the flight attendant???

Helicopter parenting

2010-02-08T08:36:00.000-08:00

Back in the days when Kate was a toddler, and Leo not even thought off, and we lived in London, I marveled over the amount of organized activities some SAHM's would schedule for their children. There was singing, music group, toddler tumble, baby swim, story telling and pottery class in abundance. Every day, another thing they needed to get to in time, and that always seemed to clash with nap times and feeding routines.

I would bump in to a mother friend on my way to the play ground and she would be busy maneuvering her stroller on to the bus, rushing to get from playgroup to baby ballet, "I don't have time to chat right now, let's meet for coffee next week." We'd never make it to coffee.

As I was studying for my MA and Kate was at nursery 2 full days a week, the days we had at home together, I simply didn't have the energy to have to be somewhere at a certain time. I needed to take the day as it came. We would hang out with friends in the play ground for hours, go for long walks and find pine cones in the park, weather permitting, or just have a four hour long play date which consisted of Kate and her friends turning the apartment up side down while me and the other mothers would drink endless pots of tea, read gossip magazines and talk about how sleep deprived we were. And I admit, we would scoff at the poor mother's who had signed up to a life with screaming kids on the public transport, constantly going somewhere, never ever standing still long enough to take a deep breath.

Then I moved to California. Kate started Pre-K. And if I thought mother's over-subscribed their kids in London, I was in for a huge reality check. Suddenly, baby swim and toddler music seemed like free play compared to Mandarin lessons, yoga classes, Violin and Arithmetic for pre school Einsteins which were all norm rather than exception. And that's not counting the weekend activities which were all out doors, and sports based. Soccer practice twice a week, and two games on Saturday. And then off for some light mountain hiking. By the way, this is 4-year old's we're talking about.

I have always felt that we are doing our children a disservice by over-scheduling organized activities. Along with activities comes and enormous amount of pressure to perform and become better (well, best) of your peers. The activities are not for fun - they are competitive and strenuous and will leave children feeling that if they are not the best, they are simple not good enough. But apart from physically exhausting our kids and turning them in to self conscious wrecks , we are also taking away the ability to figure out who they are, and what the world is all about. And most of all: we are not letting them be bored.
All kids needs to be bored. They need to learn to become creative with play and time. They need to develop their imagination. And they don't need a mother who drives them from swimming to hockey in five minutes flat, they need a mother who sits next to them on a sofa and talks about dragons, and dolphins and why the earth might be flat after all.

According to a new book by American therapist David Code, To Raise Happy Kids, Put Your Marriage First, this problem is now recognized as "helicopter parenting", which "creates anxious, exhausted parents and demanding, entitled children." He has a simple formula for happier kids: take the focus away from your children and move it on to your marriage instead. Because another side-effect of helicopter parenting are less time to spend with our spouse leads to empty and unhappy marriages. This could be one reason why divorce rates in the US are sky rocketing right now.

So cut down on the activities! Start to actually spend time with your little one's. Listen to what they have to say. Get down on their level and see how they experience the world, and still have time over to give your husband a hug.

Battlefield

2010-02-07T08:24:00.000-08:00

I talk to a mother-friend of mine and we compare notes on how we have changed throughout the years, going from caring for one to two or more children. I admit that my tactics have changed with Leo, compared to how they were with Kate.
- I have become more relaxed, I say. I allow him to do more and get away with more stuff.
My friend nods her head in agreement.
- But it is also harder, I continue. This time around it takes more diplomacy, more sly tactics and clever negotiating. I need to use more force and be focused.
The look on my friends face has changed.
- It's not battle, she says. You're not strategizing a war.
- I might as well be, I say with a deep sigh. It's me against him and I need to be on top.

Twitter!

2010-02-06T21:30:00.000-08:00

I have just entered a new phase, and you can now follow me on twitter: www.twitter.com/angrymotherca

I need this: (some things we argue about)

2010-02-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

I am in desperate need for a holiday. Not one of those holidays where you leave your home for two weeks in order to rush around to visit friends and family all over the place and end up in more need of a holiday when you get back than you were before. No, I mean, a real holiday, sunshine, swimming pool, coconut smelling sunscreen, Margarita in hand, just the four of us, no one else.
Have talked to the husband about this, and he agrees. I'll book something, he says.
A week later nothing is booked. I gently poke him, but nothing happens.
Finally, he says:
- Well, I'm stuck at work, you're at home all day, why don't you book something.
This is where the argument explodes.
Let's not go down the: I'm working and you're at home doing nothing all day - road, shall we, instead, let's look at this objectively.
I mean, I think we all know that being a SAHM equals paid work away from home (not measured in money paid in to account every month, but rather the sheer exhaustion you feel by the end of the day), so it would be futile to start arguing about that.
No, I am carefully picking this apart and looking at it objectively:
I organize play-dates.
I research, and sign up to after school activities.
I am responsible for summer camps.
I book medical, dental and hair cut appointments - heck, I'm the only one who has these numbers in my phone.
I did the pre-school thing, with researching, filling in applications, going on tours and doing the follow-up's.
The rabbit, the vet appointments, becoming bona fide rabbit expert on food, molting, spaying etc, is my thing.
Library books, new clothes, old shoes, that's me.
Scheduling anything that has to do with up-keep of the house, chasing work-men, staying at home for hours waiting for them and then having to endure their work which always takes longer than they first say - oh, that would be me.
If my husband suggest we go out to dinner or a movie, he will always say: I'll book something, which he never does, and it falls on my in the end.
I am also room-parent for Kate's class this year, and I am not going to tell you how heavy that email-load is sometimes....

So, would it be nice to have something that didn't become my responsibility, just because I happen to stay at home all day?
Yes, is the answer.
I have no idea why all of this became my territory in the first place. So he's working? Big fucking deal. I seem to remember being able to schedule my own optometry appointments when I was still working, for my husband it is a miracle if he can call his dentist once a year, it's more likely to be every other year.

OK, so my husband is not a total looser, far from it. He's a great, loving, fantastic husband, who is never expecting any of this to be "my job". He never expects dinner on the table or the kids to be in bed when he gets home.
But if I don't do it, it just doesn't get done.
It doesn't matter if you live in the most equal marriage in the world, if one of you stay at home while the other one is working, the one at home will be the one who all the menial tasks fall upon, there is no way around it. The only way to change it is for both of you to go to work.

So, I have become one of those women.
And I don't like it.
I should just stop doing it, and wait for someone else to realize that it needs to get done.
But I do want that holiday, desperately.

I'm a real housewife, but I am not getting paid

2010-02-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

I am a sucker for Reality TV and right now I am completely hooked on Real Housewives of Orange County. But whereas I thought that the ladies in Atlanta were pure quality entertainment with their over the top cattiness and constant one-up-manship, the Socal women are just sad. My heart goes out to any woman who feels the need to undergo such extensive and rigorous beauty regimes every day, because if they don't look their best their men will, apparently rightfully so, be unfaithful.... and while the Atlanta-sister had each other by the throat because of an inevitable clash of monumental egos, in OC the bickering and bitchiness boils down to two sad common denominators: insecurity and jealousy.

In Thursdays episode, the women and their spouses gather round for an alcohol infused housewarming dinner at one of the housewives (who gets served with eviction papers the very next morning - don't tell me this isn't pure, gut-wrenching comedy!) and end up laying in to one of the women for one reason only: the fact that she holds down a full-time job and can't go along to the luncheons, tupperware parties and pilates classes that they keep inviting her to.
- I work, the owner of a successful insurance company says. I don't have time to take 12-2 off on a weekday to go to the gym.
- And we don't work? one of the other women lashes out.

Cut to the same woman talking to the camera:
- I take care of three children (she has two nannies), and also keep my husband in a very satisfied manner (she works out five days a week, has botox injections, manicures, massages, facials and throws the odd frozen pizza in the oven), if that's not work, I don't know what is.

Well, honey, I do agree that it must be very, very time consuming and exhausting for you, but if you ain't getting a paycheck at the end of the month, it's not work. Call it what every you like, but work it's not.
I feel for the true working gal, she's as big a b*** as the others, but she was undeservedly pounded on.

We never stop judging

2010-02-04T10:51:00.001-08:00

It seems that the media is out to criticize the Obama administration no matter what, and if it is a quiet day for the President, let's turn on the First Lady instead.
The latest "scandal" is that Michelle Obama has talked about the rising obesity problem by using a personal anecdote concerning her own daughters, Sasha and Malia. The girls' pediatrician had warned the mother about their weight and she admitted to putting them on a diet. It seems that the diet in it self is less up for criticism than the fact that Michelle deliberately put her daughter's lives out in the open when they are at such vulnerable age.

Whether this was a clever move on behalf of the First Lady, I'll refrain from commenting on. But fact remains: obesity in America is rising and especially amongst young children. The best thing a parent can do is nip it in the bud by teaching their children healthy eating habits, the importance of exercise and how to take care of the body that they will have to live with for the rest of their lives. Positive encouragement, plenty of it, and as soon as you suspect the need for it is the only way forward. Far too many parents choose to neglect this part of their children's lives and the horrible effects that poor eating habits will have on them.
The First Lady has done the right thing in rising awareness on this subject and by showing that the way of stopping this increasing problem starts at home, with the parents.

More sickness

2010-02-03T17:43:00.000-08:00

Flu season turns parents in to suspicious and paranoid people and quite frankly, it's getting to me. As soon as a child has the slightest sign of a runny nose, parent's move far away and if you dare have the audacity to deliberately put your snotty child in a situation where there is other children - well you should be taken to the gallows.
I can't keep count of how many times I have been told that: your son has a slight runny nose, you should probably keep him at home, by a playgroup teacher or another mother. Well, guess what? Kids have runny noses. Their noses are perpetually runny from about mid October to the end of April every year for the first four or five years of their lives. That's normal! Annoying - yes. Unattractive - yes. But perfectly normal.
What bugs me is that other parents seem to think that I don't know my own child, and can't read the signs that will tell me weather he's sick or not (I am mostly referring to situations around Leo, when you reach 8, Kate's age, you have other, more pressing matters to worry about than a runny nose). I am a mother of two. I have been a child myself. I have probably had every childhood illness known to mankind, and if I didn't get it fast enough my mother made damned sure that I would play with a kid who did so that I could get infected and get it out of my system. (This was in the 70's, in Europe, long before immunization hysteria, when chicken pox was something you actually had to chase down the street rather than run away from).

Bottom line is, if my child was ill, I wouldn't expose him to environments that would in any way increase his ill-being. I actually love my child, there is no way I would do that. So common sense, if he's out and about, he's probably not ill. Or maybe he is, and I don't know yet, but then: though luck. I can't stay at home every time my child is showing the slightest sign of running a cold because I wouldn't actually leave the house for months.

So to those parents out there who have a snot-phobia, please trust me to take care of my own child, and if you are so worried that your child will catch something, then maybe you should stay at home.

(Alternatively: immunize your child against serious childhood deceases.)

To shoot or not to shoot

2010-02-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

The whole swine flu epidemic/immunization hype seems to be calming down.
Against my better judgement, (yes, this will spark some controversy) Leo had his first shot, but Kate didn't.
I am a vaccination optimist. I think we should have vaccines, and I think parents should vaccinate their children. But I have never got my head around the flu shots. Flu, to me, is annoying, inconvenient and always bad timing, but very, very rarely lethal. I am also a firm believer in letting your body build your own immune-system against the illnesses that aren't immediately associated with potential further repercussions, so the flu-shot is where I personally has drawn the line, that is, until we had Leo, who is born with a minor heart defect and the issue of chest infections had to be considered more seriously than before, suddenly, there was a chance that flu, both seasonal and swine alike, could qualify as "illness associated with potential further repercussions".
So he had his firts shot, Kate didn't. 'Nuff said. We also gave him the seasonal flu-shot and of course, 24 hours later he was ill and had the worst rash immaginable all over his body. So did another boy in his play group.

But my pediatrician didn't get the H1N1 booster vaccine for what seemed like a life time, it was constantly being delayed, and we waited and waited and when they finally called me, 8 or more weeks before his initial shot, to say that they could shedule a time for Leo to have his booster and I have to say, I didn't hesitate when I declined to take him in.
Despite their difference in immunization status, both Kate and Leo had has their fair share of illness this winter, the high temperatures, the coughing, the sneezing, the constantly runny noses. I am still a devoted vaccination optimist, but I am making a very subjective conclusion with the evidence at hand that flu shots are just not for us.
I rest my case.

Mammoth

2010-01-25T12:26:00.000-08:00

I urge any couple struggling to raise a family while holding down a job and trying to keep up the life style without going insane to watch Mammoth, starring Michelle Williams and Gael Garcia Bernal. It is the latest movie by Swedish director Lukas Moodyson, who hit it big time a few years ago with such diverse movies like Show Me Love (teenage love), Together (Swedish commune living in the 70's) and Lily4ever (human trafficking).

To me, Mammoth is not trying to be clever or pretend to "know the answer about everything" even though it could seem so at first, with it's constant use of obvious symbolism and stark super-realism. If anything, it is almost over-simplistic in it's way of layering corresponding stories that are both mirror reflections and consequences of each other.

The desperate inability to reach out is making the characters unable to speak their mind and or put words to their feelings and is hurting them all in different ways and it is difficult to watch them struggle with unwanted silence and the constant feelings of alienation but at the same time so familiar, so close to home: The desperate phone conversations between the young married couple at the heart of the plot, unsuccessfully trying to share moments with each other whilst not even in the same country, fighting time zones, sleep-deprivation and cultural adrenalin seems very familiar to me. And the constant feelings of guilt that is tearing them up, to work so hard but to never be enough, never having enough time, holding on to the tiny glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, next week it will be better, we will work less, travel less, have more time to spend with our daughter - that is the foundation of so many families in the Western world today.

It is not a happy Friday night film by any standards, but it is a film that will not leave you alone for a long while, and it is very thought provoking.

I have failed as mother

2010-01-24T12:51:00.000-08:00

We always tell Kate that she can be anything she wants but until today, we have stupidly forgotten the "as long as you out your mind to it" - part.

Before the Holidays, she asked me what I had wanted to become when I was little.
- I always wanted to become a writer, I said.
- Oh, she said, with genuine upset in her voice. And that didn't happen.
- Well, it hasn't happened yet, I said, trying to sound cheerful.

Granted, to be a "writer" is a matter of definition. If being a "writer" means you sit at home with your note-pad and lap top and churn out short stories, diary-entries and blog posts that no one reads, than yes, by all means, I am a bona fide writer. But if it means getting your texts published, seeing your name in publications or on the book shelf of your local book store, then no, I am very darn far from being a writer. (And since Kate's definition of work is "when you leave the house in the morning to do very boring stuff at a desk and come home late at night just like daddy", I doubt she would choose to let me get away with calling me anything else but plain "mommy".)

Kate's ambitions ranges from becoming a prima ballerina or artist to a paleontologist and, as we've already seen, married with kids on Hawaii. She can get in to a dreamlike state of wishful thinking at the most random of places like Safeway or in line to the bathroom at swimming, and suddenly say: "I wish I could be a paleontologist."
- Of course, you can sweetie, we tell her. You can be anything you want.
We want to give her the security and confidence to believe that anything is possible, and also let her know that we will support her regardless of her choices. We are not pushy parents. We do not pre-determ our children's future. Instead we think that they are responsible for their own lives, but we will be there, all the way, cheering them on and making sure they don't miss a single opportunity if it will help them go further. So maybe we are pushy? I call it 'forceful support', or 'optimistic encouragement without limits'.

So, this morning in the car on our way out, Kate falls in to one of her thinking modes again until I suddenly hear from the back:
- Mommy. Can anyone become what they want, or is it just some people?
- Everyone can be what they want. Why do you ask?
- Because, like, you wanted to be a writer, and you're not a writer.
I realize it is time to get down to serious business, and suddenly I feel like one of the teachers in Fame:
- Honey. We can all be what we want, but it doesn't just happen to us, we have to work really hard to get there, too. Mommy just haven't worked so hard on becoming a writer, but that's not to say that it won't happen one day.
I quickly move the subject away from myself and on to her by explaining that if she works hard in school and really sets her mind on something it will happen, but it is also important that she enjoys what she's doing, and that it makes her happy.

The rest of the journey we're both quiet. I'm not sure if I have convinced her, but I did my best.
I can't help but feeling that I have failed her. And myself. It was never my one and only ambition to be mother. I was going to be some many things, whilst having children at the same time.
I always knew that for as long as I am "just" a mother, the feeling of falling short will never leave me, but I made that choice, and only I can do something about it.
And staying at home was never going to be forever. Instead of letting the conversation bring me down, I make a promise to myself, and to Kate, right there in the car, to keep working harder at what I am doing, and to let this conversation be the start of something positive.
I owe this to both of us.

There can never be too many choices if we are to raise the next generation

2010-01-22T13:43:00.000-08:00

45% of women in Sweden would like to be a "stay at home mom" according to the trendy Swedish parenting magazine Mama. Only 20% said No, while 34% would like to find a balance between staying at home more working fewer hours.

This is very interesting figures. Our Swedish sisters have come a long way compared to those in America, and other European countries, for that matter. Affordable child-care, flexible working hours, job-share schemes and long, paid parental leave divided between both parents mean that Swedish women comes as close to "having at all" as it possibly gets. Or do they?

The Swedish model has so many things that other countries can - and should - learn from. By subsidizing child care and encouraging shorter working days, the government is respecting and supporting young, hard-working families while they are raising their children. The government is also trying to not alienating women from the work force by allowing them to maintaining a career, which is virtually impossible in some other Western countries.

But more and more women are starting to complain. Studies show that not all fathers choose to take the parental leave that they are allowed by the government, and although it seems luxurious with a nearly 18 month long maternal leave - it is making women feel out of touch with their work, which puts them in a disadvantage as they have to compete for, and often loose out on, job promotions within their company.
As Sweden is relying on high taxes for free health care, care for the elderly and subsidized nurseries, it is necessary for both partners to work. There is very little leverage for families who want to structure their family in any other way. Some would even say that women has gained equality at the cost of individual choice.
I still argue very favorably for the Swedish model. I have yet to see one that would work better. But the figures in the study seem to be a sign that things are changing, and maybe not for the better. A "stay at home mother" shouldn't be the only choice we have. Women should have a number of different choices that should suite every individual family. But thinking that you have a choice, when, maybe, it is just a disguise for another type of "no choice", is maybe why so many Swedish women think that the grass is greener on the other side.
Believe me, it's not - we all have a long way to go yet, before we reach perfection.

2nd grade reality check

2010-01-19T17:18:00.000-08:00

At the dinner table I ask Kate, as I always do, about her day at school and what she played with her friends at recess.
- We talked about Hollywood, she says. Lisa and Sara (her BFF's) talked about how they want to move there when they are 18, or 19 the latest, and I listened.
- Why do they want to move to Hollywood? I ask, not able to contain my bemusement.
- I don't know. I think they want to be rock stars, and become famous, and have lot's of money. They want to live in really big houses with a swimming pool and a pet room and have someone that will look after their pets for them.
- Uh huh.
- And they said that maybe I could move with them, but I just said: let's not count me in.
- You don't want to move to Hollywood, honey?
- No. It seems like a waste of money. And like something that won't come true.
- So what do you want to do instead?
- I want to live somewhere else. Somewhere interesting. Like Hawaii. And I want to be a paleontologist. And marry and have children.

Talk about reality check.

It is no secret to either of the mothers that the three girls are very different from each other, and that where Lisa and Sara are more "girlie girls" with their heads in their clouds, Kate is bookish and slightly geeky in an adorable way. While her friends spend hours in front of the mirror dressing up, Kate will be in too much of a hurry to actually play to care about whether the sweater is on the right way. And where they are giggly and have secrets and talk about the boys, my daughter has a dry, sharp sense of humor that would knock even the wittiest comedian flat, and she thinks that boys are a waste of time because they take up too much space. If asked what they would like to play it's Barbies versus Mastermind. To put it in simple terms: if Sara and Lisa are Hannah Montana, Kate would be Dora Explorer's no-fuss and much less annoying older sister. And as much as I would never want to alienate my daughter from her friends, or deliberately make her feel different from them, this is one that I want to quietly support for as long as I possibly can.

- I think your dream sounds ten times better than theirs, I say without hesitating. You know you can be anything you like, sweetheart.

And even though this goes for her friends too, I believe it so much more because it is my daughter I am talking to.

Things my husband and I argue about:

2010-01-16T17:09:00.000-08:00

- What time is Kate's swimming lesson? he says.
- Same time as every Saturday.
- Which time is that then?

I refuse to answer. He takes her more often then I do, and yet, he still hasn't managed to make a mental note of 11.00. I know I'm being childish, but why always rely on me, the safe bet?
- So, come on then. When is it?
- Well, what time did you drop her off last week?
- I can't remember. Well, I could. But I figure it's just quicker to ask you, 'cos I know you know.
- So what? You can't remember a simple swimming lesson but you expect me to?
- Well, I have to remember important things at work.

That's it.
What started as some bickering quickly turns in to a full blown argument.

If this is bad - we should all be doing it -and be proud.

2009-11-19T18:32:00.001-08:00

When I was a child, not once can I remember listening (yes, small girl, big ears, and not afraid to use them) to my mother and her friends talk about motherhood or children like something that needed to be talked about, or was interesting to talk about for that matter. They never sat around the kitchen table and debated whether they had enough time for their kids and if this was something they stressed about. They never defined themselves as mother's, it was something they happened to be, not something that they were consumed by.
If they ever talked about us, the kids pretending to play under the table while they drank coffee and smoked Blend Ultra, it was usually because one of us had behaved badly and had needed to be punished, or because one of us had had a stomach bug that made us vomit all over the living room carpet, as something that had disrupted the rest of their day by annoyingly stopping a halt to everything else they had to do.
Most of all they talked about work, or Dallas, or the new Jackie Collins novel. It made them sound interesting. It was a world I was yet to be invited to, something that was a mystery to me, something I was dying to be a part of. To be a grown woman, and sit around a table and talk to your friends about things that only they understood.

(I can only imagine what those small ears would hear, and what impact they would have on me had it been today, and the conversation around the table would have been about my child, my child, my child, my child, taking care of my child, finding the best organic and locally grown broccoli, and my child, and my child's Gymboree class, and swim class, and music class, and me child my child my child. I would probably have grown a pretty large head to go with those big ears, I tell you.)

Most importantly, no one considered them bad mother's. In fact, they were all (maybe except for one, but that was only because she served bolognese sauce without meat to save money, so that was done out of necessity, not evilness, strictly, I guess it doesn't count) very good mother's. They were loving, affectionate, funny, devoted and no-nonsense. Most of them worked full-time, while the kids spent their days in state-funded day care (you gotta love Scandinavia, even in the early 70's). When they didn't work they cooked basic meals while we watched the one hour of TV that was suitable for kids (and often more hours that was not so suitable), they made sure we were dressed and had our gym kit together and they left us with our grand parents at weekend's to get a break. They had fun parties where they all got merry and would dance around with us standing on their feet and had us fall asleep on a pile of coats in the hall-way. They would sleep in when they were tired, ask us to make them coffee when they woke up, and if they had any energy at all they would take us swimming, or for a walk in the park, but if it didn't happen, no one would think they had failed us.

It seems to me that there is something fundamentally wrong in how we define and perceive ourselves as mother's today - and how we judge all the other mother's around us by comparing them to ourselves. You are not a sufficient mother unless you get down on the floor at all times and actively play with your child for every awake moment of it's day. You have to sign up for activities, and play-dates, and do the home-work assignments, and still have time to show your kids how to relax (because they can't figure that out for themselves). As a mother, your life should be your children - and nothing else. You should not be happy unless your child's needs (which we have ourselves created by obsessing) are completely taken care of down to the very last detail.

And this is still not enough. Only yesterday, Kate moaned because there are so many movies coming out over the holiday's and when I had told her that we simply can't go and watch them all in the theatre, that we have to wait for them to come out On Demand (as if there were ever the luxury of determining your viewing schedule when I grew up - watch your fifteen minutes of Tjeckoslovakian puppet-show right now, or miss it forever).
- It's just not fair, she scowled. Everyone else can go with their mommy and daddy. They have time!

I felt huge pangs of guilt for about ten seconds, until I managed to shake it off.
- They probably can't, I said. And even if they could, I don't care. Different families have different rules.
It felt good saying it (not so good that it stopped me from lying awake later that night, agonizing over how horrible I'd been, though). It felt like I was finally putting my foot down. Making a stand. Separating me from the group and going it on my own. Taking charge of my life, all that sort of stuff.

It seems that in today's hyper-obsessed society (or should I say obsessive) we are not happy until we have completely, totally, one hundred percent thrown ourselves in to playing our roles as mother's that we are quite happy obliterating ourselves, and the people we were before we had children, to the point that what's is left are empty shells, mere cut-outs of what used to be a fully functioning human being. God forbid, we should have time to do anything else - let alone take a break and read a book, or do something that we'd take pleasure in doing for us, for me, not for my child. Only bad mother's take time out for themselves. Only very, very bad mothers.

Which is what I have been doing over the last day or so.
I couldn't put down memoir Bad Mother, written by Bay Area (Berkeley more precisely which makes her observations even more interesting at times) author and mother Ayelet Waldman , until I had finished the last page. This book is funny, clever, thought provoking and sometimes very, very close to the heart (when you read about how she nearly - unknowingly - sacrificed her son's life for breast-feeding, I had lock myself in my bedroom and reach for the tissues).
Waldman has been in the spot light before. To a lot of people she is most famous for a column she wrote about loving her husband more than her children, which led her to a sit on Oprah's sofa where she had to endure much harsh and personal criticism by the audience.
When I read Waldman's book I struggle to find anything even remotely offensive or inappropriate in her stories. They are all very nice and polite reflections on a society gone bonkers over Motherhood. Her book is open, truthful and very honest without being provocative for the sake of shocking. Waldman comes across as someone I would like to have a conversation with. Someone who has found an ideal balance between home, work and herself and who should be praised for that, rather than chastised.
She can come and drink coffee by my kitchen table any day - it would be an honor!

Bad Mother - A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and occasional Moments of Grace by Ayelet Waldman is published by Doubleday.

For more information, go to www.ayeletwaldman.com

We're all humans

2009-11-16T17:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I watched an interview with Kate Gosselin, mother of eight, and star of the reality TV show Jon&Kate plus 8 (soon to be Kate plus 8). She was answering the viewers questions and she was asked about her temper and flipping out whilst taking care of her kids. There has been some sharp criticism in the tabloids about Kate and her parenting skills. Pictures of her snapping and one time even spanking her kids, and how she generally looks gloomy, moody and angry when being around them.
- Of course I snap, she said.
And why shouldn't she?
She looks after eight children!! She's only human.

It is important to stop yourself sometimes and take a deep breath. I'm all for time-out, if your kid doesn't need it, maybe you do. And when that happens it is nice to now that other mothers go through the same thing, and are honest about it.
As Kate said:
- Being a mother can be draining.

Hell yeah!

Not much happening

2009-11-11T13:10:00.001-08:00

There has been a lot about Leo's tantrums lately, but, unfortunately, that seems to be what my life is all about right now.
Yesterday I had to carry him, kicking and screaming, out of two shops, under my left arm whilst holding shopping-bags in my right hand. I have become one of those mother's.
To add to that, I am sure my next-door neighbors think I beat him, how else could they explain his high-pitched screams when it's bed-time?

The terrible two's is a horrible, horrible period, and I wouldn't want my worst enemy to suffer it.

i will become a stronger person because of it

2009-11-09T07:42:00.000-08:00

ok, that was the morning tantrums dealt with, all nine of them squeezed in to a short 27 minutes. now i have the rest of the day to look forward to....

Playground twist

2009-11-05T18:41:00.001-08:00

Remember the friend I wrote about the other week, whose daughter stated that boys know more than girls?
Well, today, Kate came home from school and started complaining about co-ed sports, which seems to be a breeding ground for stereotypical gender behavior.
- As soon as one of the girls don't do that well in German Football or Kickball the boys starts pointing and shouting "Is there any girl who knows how to kick a ball?", she said. And they do it to Heather!!
Heather is Kate's best friend, and one of the most quiet and shy girls in their year. To point and shout at anything that Heather attempts to do equals a slow, torturous death in Heathers book and is not likely to make her feel any less self-conscious than she already does. And to be fair, I think many girls out there feel like Heather.

- And when we play at recess, the boys take up so much space, Kate continues. So, like, they play basket ball, or wall ball or soccer, and there is no room left for the girls, so we usually just stay around the benches and talk. And if I start dribbling a ball that I get hold of, there is a boy right there and he dribbles it out of my hand and then I don't get it back.
- It's so unfair, she says abjectly.

My husband, who went to an all-boys school and has no idea what happens to girls before the age of 16, when he started dating them, looks at me and says:
- But isn't that just how it is? The girls rule the class-room and the boys rule the school-yard.
- Honey, the girls don't rule the class-room, I say. Even if they were to be more mentally advanced they don't have a chance to show it because the boys are louder anyway. At this age, the girls don't stand a chance.

No, it's not fair at all. The thing is, how do I explain to Kate that I have no idea how to solve this issue. That whatever she is going through right now is exactly what her mother went through 30 odd years ago, in another country, another continent. It seems to be a universal problem, and not one that is likely to be solved anytime soon.
But that doesn't mean we should shrug our shoulders and accept it. We should not let "boys be boys" and think that this will magically solve itself. Me and my husband take a solemn vow right there at the dinner-table to our best to try and work this out. But where do we start?

The first thing I do is send an email to the sports-teachers and the Principal, cc:ing the class-teacher, who is well aware of the dynamics between the boys and the girls. This was only a few hours ago, I am still waiting for a reply.
It is important that the teachers are on board. The parents need to feel confident that the teachers will nip any kind of macho-behavior in the bud straight away by communicating to the boys that girls can, and show that girls that they too have sufficient space to grow and thrive. The teachers need to assert that shouting, pointing, commenting and belittling is not OK, even if it is done in jest. The boys might very well think that they are just being funny, but these comments can be incredibly hurtful to the girls.

But one other issue that we could spot is unsupervised school-yard recess time .This is where a lot of the problems took place, according to Kate. Ours is a standard inner-city school yard, concreted and lacking of elbow room and, although supposedly supervised, there is a clear absence of observant and intervening adults. Apart from a very sad little play structure in one corner, there are nothing apart from a basket ball hoop and some fading white lines to mark out a soccer pitch. The only toys at hand are some balls. In other words, the little there is, is clearly aimed towards the boys.
So not only is the school yard is run down and out-dated it is also the one guaranteed spot in school where Lord of the Flies can rule freely since no adults interact with the kids.

This is not the only area that needs addressing, of course, but it is a part of the problem, and it is better to start somewhere than nowhere at all.
I need to get hold of research that will tell me that there is a way of changing the lay-out of the school yard that will encourage the boys and the girls to, if not suddenly play harmoniously together to the sound of a playing harp, then at least make the boys take less space and the girls feel less intruded on. I might completely be barking up the wrong tree here, and if I am, I will hold my hands up, but it is worth a shot.
We have a daunting task ahead of us, but we are both willing to take on the challenge!
If anyone has any tips, ideas, or can guide me in the direction of an architect who specializes in gender neutral urban school yards - please, let me know!!