Category Archives: parenting

Testosterone Central

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Ambro freedigitalphotos.net

Photo by Ambro freedigitalphotos.net

How do you raise a boy to be in touch with his sensitive side, but not to be a wimp?

I’ve been thinking about this question a lot recently.

I just returned from a few days at “Testosterone Central,” otherwise known as my friend Andrea’s house. She has three strapping young men between the ages of 9 and 15-in addition to her rather strapping husband and large male dog-so Andrea’s house oozes more testosterone than a bachelor party at a NASCAR race on St. Patrick’s Day.

Now don’t get me wrong. It’s beautifully decorated and there’s always something wonderful cooking on the stove. But from the moment you get out of the car-and trip over the discarded scooters, soccer cleats, gym bags and tennis shoes-you know that this is not a place for wimps.

These boys live in a swirling cauldron of testosterone and they’ve marked their territory everywhere you look.

Of course, my son Koss loves it there. What boy could resist the chin up bars, Lacrosse sticks and Old Spice products hiding in every corner? I can practically hear Koss’s voice deepen and the hair start to grow on his (barely) ten-year-old chest after a few minutes with “Da Boyz.” It doesn’t matter how much time has gone by, it never takes him long to pick up the stride at “Testosterone Central.” The older kids, and the various neighbor boys who hang out all the time, treat Koss just like another little brother—which is both good and bad.

He loves being part of the gang and tagging along for whatever adventures may happen, but as an only child he’s not used to having to keep up with anyone, and even less used to not having anyone coddle him or help him along. In fact, I know he’s getting older because this is the first time he’s left their house without any injuries.

I’m not saying that “Testosterone Central” is dangerous, only that Andrea is on a first name basis with the emergency room nurses in multiple states. Those kids get hurt and she barely blinks an eye. I guess having three sons toughens you up. Come to think of it, when her kids get hurt they barely blink an eye. I guess having brothers toughens you up too.

Koss is not all that tough. He’s never really had to be. I’m sure part of the reason that he still sits on my lap and likes to cuddle is because he doesn’t have any older brothers to tell him not to. I love that sweet, cuddly side of him.

But he also loves to immerse himself in that boy energy at “Testosterone Central.” It’s not exactly animal house, but you can tell that it would easily slip into fraternity style mayhem if mom-and the housekeeper-went away for an extended period of time. No wonder Koss loves it there.

He’s spent a lot of the summer hanging out with his girl cousins, and was completely comfortable being assigned to an all girl group (plus one male counselor) at Nature Camp. I don’t think the boys who live in “Testosterone Central” would be-except maybe the oldest one, who’s got a whole other level of testosterone kicking in.

I asked Koss about whether he felt he behaved differently with all boys or all girls. “When I’m with the boys I definitely feel more aggressive with them,” he said. “I try to be funnier with the girls.”

That’s when I realized that I didn’t have to be too worried about him one way or the other. He already knows exactly how to behave with both boys and with girls. If he can make the girls laugh and then go tackle the boys-and as long as he knows the right ones to cry in front of-he’s going to be just fine.

Share your MOB (mother of boys) tips with Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com. Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on August 7, 2009.

Lousy with Lice

Posted on by
Reply
Photo by Marin, FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Photo by Marin, FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Eww! That’s all I’ve been saying all month. Eww! Until a month ago I had no idea that a tiny little bug could cause so much pain and suffering. Then I got that horrible phone call from school. My head starts to itch just thinking about this.

My son—he has less than three inches of hair; hadn’t had a sleepover in ages; barely brushes his own hair, let alone shares a hairbrush; does swim team three times a week; and takes such long showers that he may single-handedly be responsible for the drought in California-had somehow contracted lice.

I got the message while I was sitting in a drive-through car wash, picking up the voicemail that his school health clerk had left almost five hours earlier. I knew my husband hadn’t picked up Koss from school because he was on his way out of town for his infamous annual “caveman weekend.”

My mother-in-law was scheduled to pick up Koss from school about two hours earlier, but I hadn’t heard anything from her. I frantically dialed her number as-I kid you not-I watched two gigantic circular brushes come to a screeching halt on my windshield. I rolled down my window and a foamy pink ashy substance started coming inside my car. It smelled like a sweaty blend of smoke, strawberries and stress. Eww!

“It’s a power outage,” yelled a guy from one of the 13 cars in line behind me. Who knew that I’d be in the middle of a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode when I got the lice call? The realization that I was stuck in the car wash hit me just as I got my mother-in-law on the phone.

“We’re fine. Koss had been waiting in the office for a few hours when I got to school. They said that he has lice,” she said in her always-cheery voice. This nice reassurance from a woman who didn’t tell any of her adult children she was even in the hospital until a few days after she had hip replacement surgery was, frankly, not all that reassuring.

Neither was waiting for all of the cars behind me to back up before I could do a less-than-graceful 67-point turn to get my now golden-pinkish boat of a Mercury Marquis out of the car wash.

A quick stop at the drug store to pick up lice shampoo made my head hurt even more. Product names like Pronto, RID, LiceMD and Nix shouted at me from the shelves. They all looked like they should have a skull and crossbones warning label on them. I grabbed a few bottles and headed for home.

Grandma seemed calm enough when I get there, but she bolted as quickly as possible. Koss also seemed un-phased as he told me he read a whole book while waiting for someone to pick him up in the office.

I barely let him finish dinner before I doused his head with the inaugural lice treatment and then began what would be the first of 351 loads of laundry. After the 200th load I began to think that top sheets are overrated, as are hand towels, and really, wouldn’t it be easier to pull up the carpet than to vacuum it for the 32nd time? I was exhausted and I’d only been home for an hour.

I sprayed all of the surfaces that couldn’t be vacuumed or laundered with a toxic spray that smelled so bad it must have been killing something besides the nerve endings in my nose. Then I carefully examined every single strand of hair on my son’s head. I didn’t see a single louse, but there were lots of nits, which I painstakingly picked out with my fingers. Eww! I’m a monkey! This took an entire season of Eureka on the DVR.

I was certain his head was pristine when we checked in at the office the next day. Unfortunately the florescent lighting revealed a few more nits and the school secretary explained that they have a no nits policy. Oh joy! Off we went for a delightful day of nitpicking. Armed with wooden barbecue skewers, a fine-toothed metal comb, magnifying glass and disinfectant wipes, I examined every strand of my son’s head again and again until I started to name the individual hairs. “Hey, Curly. What’s up?” I wonder what they put in those shampoos?

Finally, someone turned me on to the “magic lice shampoo” from Caldwell’s Pharmacy that is nontoxic, can be used every day, and smells like peppermint, rather than motor oil. It costs a small fortune and we went through three bottles, but it was worth every penny.

We watched an entire season of Chuck and several Food Network Challenges as I picked through Koss’s freshly shorn head for what remained of these stubborn creatures. Finally, we were done!-until I checked my own hair. Eww! A welcome home present for my husband, who finally returned from his “stunted boy weekend.” Surprise. Lice to see you, honey. I’ll be the one with her head in the vat of lye.

Good times. My head itches just thinking about them.

Four weeks later, and I finally stopped checking for nits every time I looked in the mirror. Then we got a call from a friend who we were supposed to have dinner with, and he said his kid had lice. Did we still want to go out with them? I laughed until I cried, and then I sobbed a little more. Eww!

Share your lousy adventures with Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg.com. Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on June 26, 2009.

A Tale of Mice and Moms

Posted on by
Reply

DisneylandI have to admit I was a little skeptical when I received the invitation to attend a “Mom Bloggers Day to Learn, Eat and Play at Disneyland.” I love Disneyland, and I like eating, playing and learning, and I am a mom and I do have a blog. But was I really a “mom blogger?” I wasn’t so sure. First of all, I have no idea what they call themselves. Moggers? Bloms?

At the same time, there aren’t too many perks for members of the press these days-unless you count all of those forwarded articles about the demise of the newspaper business from my college friends who I accused of “selling out” when they went to law school-so when I read the words “free admission for your whole family” I was sold, despite my apprehension about the words “mom bloggers.” Not that I have anything against these little moggers. But unlike them, I’m a working stiff, who doesn’t have the luxury of spending hours writing blogs only to be paid with cases of Rice-A-Roni, or even trips to Disneyland.

Okay, maybe I have a little bit of resentment toward the blommies because I actually make my living writing stories, meager though it may be. This isn’t just a hobby for me like it is for most mommygrrs, and I can’t help but remember what my mom used to say about not buying cows when you can get the milk for free.

But the waters are getting murky out there for journalists and bloggers alike. Back in the old days, reputable publications and journalists didn’t take any freebies. But the times are changing, and with barely enough money coming in to pay their writers, publishers are getting much more relaxed about letting their employees enjoy whatever perks they can get.

Just last week, The Wall Street Journal had a story about bloggers getting paid in hard, cold cash to pitch products, which used to be called public relations. According to the article, “Companies see the freebies and payments to bloggers as a cheap way to boost brand buzz during the recession.” It goes on to say that, “The Internet is becoming so rife with paid blogging that the Federal Trade Commission, which guards against false advertisements, is examining whether it should police bloggers.”

I decided to do some detective work of my own. I wasn’t just taking a free trip to Disneyland-albeit with absolutely no promise to them that I would write about them- I was doing some investigative reporting.

I was infiltrating the exciting world of mom bloggers.

Judging from my extremely unscientific sample survey of momoggers who came to Disneyland last week, the vast majority of them took their responsibility to report the objective facts about Disney’s “summer nightastic” plans very seriously. This is despite the fact that some of the mom bloggers had been buffed and bouffanted at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique; many had limbo-ed and conga-ed with Mickey’s crew in his Celebrate! Street Party parade; and all of us had indulged in the tasty “Cowboy Conecakes” served in Frontierland’s new Celebration Roundup & Barbecue restaurant. Seriously, no one turned them down. The presentation was very Martha Stewart, and the frosting to cake ratio was just right, which any self-respecting mom can certainly appreciate.

I struggled to keep my conecake enthusiasm in check, hardened professional that I am. But I couldn’t help but get a little giddy at the reserved front row seating we had for the parade (I could see the flop sweat on Pluto’s face, as he danced his goofy little heart out), and did a little happy dance when they gave us front of the line fast passes for “It’s a Small World,” “Toy Story Midway Mania” and “Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage,” none of which have regular fast passes available to the hoi polloi.

I tried to keep my excitement on the down low as I listened to the mom bloggers talk about some of the biggest issues on their websites.

“Our most lively discussions are always about breastfeeding,” said one of the mooggers, who happened to be 15 months pregnant.

“Not our site,” said a perky blonde. “It’s all about whether or not to go back to work. The great stay at home debate.”

“Not that anyone can afford to stay at home with their kids these days,” offered a tall brunette blogger, in purple sequined Minnie Mouse ears.

Seeing my opening, I pounced. “So do you any of you get paid for writing your blogs?” I asked. They all looked at me like I was crazy. “Does 500 cases of laundry detergent count?” asked a sweet-faced woman with exceptionally clean clothes.

They continued their conversation without missing a beat. It was fascinating, it was fun, and best of all-it was free.

I still don’t know if I’m really a mom blogger. But if you want to know the specifics about all of the new attractions at Disneyland, you can read about them on my, ahem, blog.

When Leslie’s on deadline, or blogging, mogging or tweeting, or on Facebook, she can be reached at Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. For more columns visit www.LeslieDinaberg. Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on May 1, 2009.

The Blessings of Boredom

Posted on by
Reply
(Ambro, freedigitalphotos.net)

(Ambro, freedigitalphotos.net)

“I’m bored.”

Ask any parent and they’re sure to tell you that these are the two most irritating words you can hear come out of a child’s mouth. More annoying than “Are we there yet?” and more ubiquitous than “five more minutes,” when a child says he’s bored it’s enough to drive any over-scheduled, multi-tasking adult crazy-especially since most of us would sell our souls for a day of guilt-free, free time.

Even though he’s rolling his eyes like he’s bored, I try to explain to my son that the concept of labeling a huge part of human experience as “boring” is a relatively new phenomenon. “Think about how hard people used to have to work simply to survive. Taking care of the cows and the pigs and fields required rising at the crack of dawn, while preparing meals without microwaves and running water and mending clothes so they would survive another winter kept people busy well into the night,” I tell him. He fake snores in response to my diatribe.

Hmmm, that went well. What’s even more surprising to me is that it’s my kid who has a problem with this, as my husband is a master of playing with himself.

“Why can’t we play on the computer or watch TV?” he asks for what feels like the 900th time.

“You’ve got friends over. You’re supposed to entertain each other. Go outside and climb a tree, run around, make up a game.”

Finally, blessedly, they do.

And they’re happy and they’re stimulating their minds and tiring out their bodies just like kids were meant to do.

But we have this “I’m bored” conversation more often than we should, primarily when other kids come over to play and I refuse to let them plug in to the television or the computer. So far we’ve resisted the Nintendo marketing cry in our house, but if we ever do give in (who am I kidding – when we do), I can guarantee I’ll be that mean old mom who won’t allow plugged in play dates.

There’s a huge upside to downtime and I worry that today’s kids are so overscheduled and over stimulated that they have no idea how to entertain themselves.

A survey by the University of Michigan found that in 1997 children between the ages of 3 and 12 had nearly eight hours less free time each week than they did in 1981. And I’m sure it’s only gotten worse. It’s no surprise that in a recent study approximately half of adolescents surveyed said they feel stressed out at least once a week. They’ve got too much on their plates. They need a little time to be bored.

But they also need some guidance from their parents so they can carve out the free time to explore, create, connect, contemplate or just be. Even a bit of intentional boredom stimulates creativity and can help children become more relaxed more self-sufficient and, ultimately, happier.

Instead of letting the phrase “I’m bored” send us scrambling for ways to stimulate, entertain or occupy our kids, I think we should try to embrace it. Children are like nature, they abhor a vacuum. Give them some do-nothing time and the odds are pretty good they’ll find an interesting way to fill it. Hopefully they’ll learn something, and even more hopefully very little property will be damaged.

The next time my son says, “I’m bored,” I’m going to try my best not to be annoyed. “That’s great,” I’ll say instead. “Have fun.”

When Leslie’s not fantasizing about having some guilt-free, free time of her own, she can be reached at email . Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on April 17, 2009. For more columns visit LeslieDinaberg.com.

Noozhawk Talks: Leslie Dinaberg Sits Down With Kendre Sanborn

Posted on by
Reply
Kendre Sanborn, pausing for a quick reflection at Arroyo Burro Beach, is about as an involved school parent as one can be. (Michelle J. Wong / Noozhawk photo)

Kendre Sanborn, pausing for a quick reflection at Arroyo Burro Beach, is about as an involved school parent as one can be. (Michelle J. Wong / Noozhawk photo)

As president of both the Santa Barbara Area PTA Council and the Hope School
District Educational Foundation, not to mention the busy mother of three children,
Kendre Sanborn certainly has her hands full. Here she tells Leslie Dinaberg
about how she juggles it all.

Leslie Dinaberg: How did you get involved with the area council PTA?

Kendre Sanborn: When I was the Vieja Valley PTA president I hadn’t been on the board before. I knew nothing but wanted to get involved. I thought the best way to learn about PTA was to go through all the trainings that PTA offers and so I kept
seeing the same volunteers over and over again. And when there were issues
going on with our PTA they were really helpful and came to my aid whenever I
needed anything.

LD: And now you’re heading up the whole thing. What area does that
include?

KS: There are 27 schools currently, from Montecito all the way to Goleta. I don’t
know everything that it entails yet because I’m still kind of learning everything,
but we basically meet to make sure that everyone is up to their standards, …
they have all these criteria that they need to follow to be in good standing. It’s our
board’s job to make sure that all those groups are in good standing. Then
another thing the area council does is send out information to the presidents
about legislation that is going on. There are a lot of areas that we cover; we’re
giving information constantly to these PTA presidents.

LD: Is there anything interesting legislatively that is going on?

KS: Right now they are really pushing that the governor doesn’t cut budgets to
schools. They’re also looking at the stimulus package and they’re really keeping
an eye on that, because if each individual state gets money then PTA really
wants to make sure that the schools get money.

LD: You’re also president of the Hope School District Educational Foundation.
What does that group do? (Laughs) <Editor’s Note: Leslie Dinaberg is also on the
board of the Hope School District Educational Foundation>

KS: We do fundraising to enrich the educational programs at Hope, Monte Vista
and Vieja Valley Elementary Schools. And we also work to encourage
collaboration and communication among the three campuses. Right now we’re
working on our Fourth Annual Golf Classic, which will be held May 15th at Glenn
Annie Golf Course.

LD: And what is that fundraiser for?

KS: Well, the state and federal budget cuts have forced our school district to cut
funding for our library program in half. So the golf tournament money will be
used to help restore the library program.

LD: Great cause. Now you also volunteer at your kids’ schools, right?

KS: Yes, my two older kids go to Santa Barbara Middle School and I volunteer
once a week to help serve lunch and then I was helping as an ambassador,
where we talk to potential parents.

LD: What do you do at Vieja Valley?

KS: Wow talking about the things I do makes me realize I have a lot on my
plate. I count and deposit PTA money, volunteer in the classroom once a week,
and I’m on the committee for the honorary service awards. We will soon be in the
process of finding people to honor at our school.

LD: What about the area council event?

KS: The area council usually has a Reflections reception, which is a really neat
thing. They usually put on a reception for all the winners for our area. (The
National PTA Reflections Program is an arts recognition and achievement
program for students, which provides opportunities for students to express
themselves creatively and to receive positive recognition for original works of art.)
Then there’s also an honorary service award event held once a year. This is an
event for all the volunteers who are recognized at their schools to also be
recognized at a community level.

And also with Reflections, if you’re a winner for the area, then the district has a
reception as well, so all of those people attend, and it’s really neat to be
recognized.

LD: Let’s shift a little bit to talk about you. I know you’re really busy with volunteer
work now, but what did you do professionally before you had kids?

KS: I finished my master’s in clinical psychology and I was working on my hours,
you have to complete a certain amount of hours to be certified. During that time I
got married and had my first child. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay
home with him. I really wanted to stay home and be with my baby. So from then
on I stayed home.

LD: I know you’ve traveled a lot. What are some of your favorite trips?

KS: Africa. And more specifically I really like Kenya and Tanzania; also going to
the Artic was really neat. We’ve been to Japan, which was pretty cool. Next week
we’re on our way to Antarctica. I haven’t been before but that’s one of my
husband’s favorite places. … We took Andrew on his first international trip to
Australia and New Zealand when he was 14 months old, and he traveled so well
it made me realize, “wow, we can take him anywhere.” Then the other two just
grew up doing it. They learned how to behave on a plane.

LD: And so do you guys take a big trip every summer?

KS: Yeah. … The funniest thing. Eric was traveling a lot for business at one point
and he had a lot of miles, and he was taking Andrew to some places to help gain
a lot of miles. During the early 90s, a lot of airlines said if you fly here you get
triple the miles, so he would take Andrew to Japan for the weekend just to get
miles, and of course to see Japan. He ended up acquiring a lot of miles.

One time Andrew and I were on a trip and we were coming through Atlanta on
our way home and I was checking in at the counter and the agent said, “Okay our
flight is really full but we can upgrade Andrew, but you’ll be in coach.” And I said,
“okay fine, as long as I’m kind of close to first class.” And they said “fine, so
where is Andrew? And I said, “He’s down here.” He was seven or something and
he was so low to the ground they couldn’t see him. The agent was laughing
saying “oh my gosh; the flight attendants are going to love this. Will he be okay
by himself?” And I said, “oh absolutely”. Our kids have traveled a lot.

… For spring break we’re going to go to Bhutan and Nepal.

LD: Is there any place you’ve never been that you’ve always wanted to go
to?

KS: Yeah, I want to go to India.

LD: Do you guys totally have it down in terms of what to pack? Five people is a
lot of people.

KS: You would be shocked. When we check into hotels people are like “oh, is
this everything?” And we say yes and they are amazed. We totally have it down.
Usually we travel with about two suitcases.

LD: That would impress my husband.

KS: And two backpacks. Now it took a while to get to that (laughs) but when you
start traveling a lot you learn a lot of tricks. For instance you only pack for about a
week, and then you learn to find a place to do laundry and obviously you want to
find the least expensive places to do your laundry, especially with five people.
But sometimes you have to pay high prices but it’s a great way to not over pack. I
definitely miss my shoes when I’m gone.

Vital Stats: Kendre Sanborn

Born: December 5, Santa Monica, California

Family: Husband Eric, children Andrew (13), Emily (11) and Claira (9)

Civic Involvement: Area council PTA President, HSDEF President, Volunteer
Vieja Valley School, Santa Barbara Middle School

Professional Accomplishments: “I’ve definitely seen how organizations work
and what it is like going into an organization and being able to know what I need
to do and get it done. And also being able to get along with people and be
respectful of their issues.”

Best Book You’ve Read Recently: “I love to read. I’m reading ‘The Shack.’ It’s
really interesting because it’s kind of religious but not in a dominating way, it is
not pushing one particular religion. It’s about a way to live your life and relate to
other people.”

Little-Known Fact: “My husband and I have made more than 2,000 loans to
individuals and their families all around the world who are in less fortunate
circumstances than our own – mostly through KIVA.org, a San Francisco based
micro lender.”

Originally published in Noozhawk on February 17, 2009. Click here to read the article on that site.

Praising the pusher

Posted on by
Reply
Dr. John Bonica

Dr. John Bonica

Epidural.

During your childbearing years, no four syllables have more power to start arguments than that one, simple word.

They are designed to take away pain, but epidurals also bring on rationalizing, pontificating, preaching, complacency, guilt, self-righteousness, ambivalence, and flat out fear. That syringe is full of much more than simple anesthetic. For many women, it’s a shot of undiluted shame, a guilt-ridden admission that they couldn’t take the pain.

I say so what. Pain is NOT everybody’s friend, and that’s where this wonderful invention comes in. I say we simply celebrate the wonderful man who invented the epidural.

How fitting it is that as Valentine’s Day approaches, we can salute the birthday of the dearly departed Dr. John Bonica, the man who pioneered this wonderful invention for his wife, Emma, who nearly died giving birth to their first daughter.

Forget the diamond- and ruby-studded push presents that are all the rage in certain circles. Can you imagine a more romantic gift than a husband who hands you a large needle full of medicine that will take all the pain away?

Oh baby. I swoon just thinking about it.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know all about the advantages of natural childbirth. After reading a million books on the subject of birth and the importance of having a “birth plan” -not realizing then that my time would have been MUCH better spent reading about parenting-I was planning on going drug free. I really was.

For one thing, needles always give me the heebie jeebies. I have to close my eyes just to get my blood tested, otherwise I worry I might faint from the wooziness.

Plus, I had been through a few surgeries and medical complications at that point, and had always been told I had a high threshold for pain.

I figured natural childbirth would be a snap.

Okay, maybe I’d need to squeeze that tennis ball extra hard and grunt a few times, but how hard could it be?

I was begging for drugs before I even had the hospital gown on.

My fear of needles was absolutely nothing compared to the blazing pain in my back when the contractions started. I would have gladly shot a thousand needles into my body-with my eyes wide open-to make the pain stop.

When the anesthesiologist finally came to give me my epidural, he was handsomer than George Clooney and Brad Pitt combined. And let me tell you, no offense to my husband, but that epidural was better than the sex that got me pregnant in the first place. And because I finally stopped squeezing his hand from the pain, he agreed.

Nothing makes you value human life more than giving birth to a 15-pound baby with a 21-inch-wide head-unless of course it’s trying to do it without an epidural.

Thank you Dr. Bonica.

It’s been a lot of years since Leslie’s epidural, but she still remembers it fondly. Share your labor pains with email . Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on February 6, 2009.For more columns visit LeslieDinaberg.com.

Pledging Beta

Posted on by
Reply
Recovering Alpha Mom shirt from cafepress.com

Recovering Alpha Mom shirt from cafepress.com

The book practically leapt off the library shelf and into my hands. How could I resist a title like, The Sweet Potato Queens’ Guide to Raising Children for Fun and Profit? Jill Conner Browne‘s sassy bon mots just cracked me up.

–(On men) “They’ve basically got two gears–horny and hungry.”

–(On women) “There is all kinds of stuff that you just shouldn’t ask any woman. Directly. If you want to know something personal about her, ask her nail technician or somebody who went to high school with her. You can find out just about anything you want to know about her this way–especially if she’s a bad tipper or was prone to stealing ninth grade boyfriends.”

–(On children) “Somewhere around 11 to 13, the eyeballs of children become extremely loose in their sockets, so that just about any disturbance in the air around them–say a word issuing forth from, say, your mouth–will cause immediate and severe rolling.” (My son must be precocious, because he started doing this at age 8)

–(On aging) “Who cares how old you are anyway? I’ve got waaay more interesting stuff to lie about in my life, thank you very much.”

I related to a lot of the book, but there was one section in particular that really hit a nerve. I had been struggling all summer with the question of how much I want to volunteer at my son’s school this year, and her observations about Alpha Moms really hit home for me. Last year I raised my hand to volunteer a few too many times and by the end of June I was burnt out, bitchy and resentful–leaving my husband only hungry.

Not wanting to go through that again–or needlessly torture my family–I thought long and hard and decided to give up some of the boards and committees and projects I had been involved with. My problem was, I still felt guilty.

Then I read the chapter titled, “Life is Hard Enough–Pledge Beta.” Conner Browne talks about how researchers have now come up with official categories for moms, including the “dearly demented and overtly overachievers,” otherwise known as Alpha Moms.

I’m sure you know the type. These women volunteer for everything so energetically that you could swear they’ve sucked all the energy out of the universe for themselves. Just looking at them makes me tired.

These are the women who laugh at the black and orange crepe paper you were so proud of yourself for remembering to bring for Halloween party, then furiously whirl around the room until it’s transformed into Disney’s Haunted House, complete with magic elevators and hitchhiking ghosts. Then they refuse to take compliments because they “just whipped everything up” the night before after their Pilates and Mandarin Chinese classes.

Those are Alpha Moms I realized. I always thought they were called Skinny Witches. Who knew?

A light bulb went on. I had been struggling to be an Alpha Mom, but I just don’t fit in. Why didn’t I see it before? I was trying to pledge the wrong sorority.

I can’t keep myself perfectly groomed and wear heels all the time. Who am I kidding? I consider myself well dressed if I go a day without spilling something on my shirt. Clearly I’m meant to be a Beta Mom.

Beta Moms, according to Conner Browne, “show up late, running down the halls, flip-flops flapping on the floor, breathing hard, sweating, wearing oversized T-shirts and frantic,” because they forgot about the stupid party until five minutes AFTER they were supposed to be there.

These are my people. I belong with the Betas, who the Alpha Moms only trust to bring paper towels and garbage bags to the party, but still bring extras in case we forget.

Boy do I feel better now.

I think I’ll take Conner Browne’s advice–“I can tell you this with absolute certainty: Nobody goes to the nursing home wishing they’d served on a few more committees or kept a cleaner house”–and just say no to a whole lot of things this school year.

And in keeping with my new Beta Mom m.o., “The Sweet Potato Queens’ Guide to Raising Children for Fun and Profit” is overdue to the library. But I just may have to keep it a teensy bit longer.

Send an email to email if you want to pledge Beta. There are no meetings, no dues, and no expectations. But we just may have a party someday.
Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on August 29, 2008.

Kindergarten Redshirts

Posted on by
Reply
Photo chomnancoffee, freedigitalphotos.net

Photo chomnancoffee, freedigitalphotos.net

School starts this week and a lot of families will be getting a late start–on purpose.

No, I’m not talking about those people who simply choose to extend their summers until after Labor Day, the way God intended. I’m talking about the people who decide to give their children an extra year filled with preschool or playtime before the academic rigors of kindergarten begin.

This graying of kindergarten is an interesting phenomenon. For many parents–especially the upper-middle class ones who can afford to stomach the extra year of preschool on the front end and extra year of supporting a child on the back end until s/he graduates from high school or college–the calculation goes something like this: you look at your four-year-old darling, especially if he’s a boy–because they tend to be squirrelier and less verbal when they’re little–and realize that his summer or fall birthday means that he’ll be younger than most of the other kids in his kindergarten class. So you decide to send him to school a year later. Then he’s at the older end of his class, with the presumption that his added maturity will give him an edge from grade to grade.

Private schools have a later birthday cutoff, but even in public school sometimes principals or teachers may suggest waiting another year to start is in your child’s best interest.

Not to mention their own.

One kindergarten teacher I know, Tammy, was nervous about commenting (which is why all of these names are pseudonyms), but did offer this, “All I can say is I’m really NOT into parents starting their kids at age four (turning five in the fall). That’s the worst.”

And as a parent, there is nothing worse than watching one kid who is not ready to be in school dominate all of the teacher’s attention for an entire year.

“I do believe that if a child is really immature, cannot hold a pencil, write their name, color a page and stay within the lines pretty well, cannot sit down long enough to listen to a story, cannot retell one fact from the story, and cannot follow a few simple instructions, then another year would be good for them to practice these steps in preschool,” says Chandra, another kindergarten teacher.

The other part of this equation is that “kindergarten is the new first grade,” according to many educators. Although most adults remember kindergarten as an idyllic year of naps, snacks and feeding the class hamster, it has become more and more academically demanding. With the advent of “No Child Left Behind” the pressure to teach things earlier and earlier gets even worse.

An estimated nine percent of children nationally are entering kindergarten a year later than they could, though there’s little evidence that children perform better in school if they start late.

But the decision to redshirt is such an individual one, and the research on the academic side–while mounting as a topic worthy of interest and study, especially since almost half the states have pushed back their birthday cutoffs since 1975–is still unclear.

At the same time, no one that I spoke to who redshirted their child regretted it.

“I absolutely did it,” says Wendy, whose son’s birthday is in late November. “Best thing I ever did. Especially with a boy. I have a girlfriend that did the opposite and her son is always the ‘baby’ of the class, and although she doesn’t see it, he suffers greatly for it. Pure immaturity. And they get meaner as they get older.”

To some professionals, redshirting children is necessary because kindergartens are more concerned with academics than with the emotional and physical development of youngsters. To others, the practice is not much better than coddling.

“I found that with some kids they acted young because their parents babied them, so it did not matter if they were one year older or not,” says Yvonne, another teacher friend.

Sometimes families decide to redshirt for reasons unique to their family dynamics. I have one friend, Darlene, who held back her second son because otherwise he and his older brother would have been one grade apart, and she didn’t want them competing so closely on the academic, social and athletic playing fields.

It’s no accident that the term “redshirt” comes from athletics, since the one place where redshirting is a proven advantage is on the sports field. Up until a few years ago the birthday cutoff date for Little League was July 31, which is a lot better explanation than astrology for the fact that 60 percent more Major League Baseball players are born in August than in July.

Aside from stacking the sports odds in favor of kids, experts also worry that redshirting puts low-income students at an extra disadvantage. The children who end up going to school young because their parents can’t afford to hold them back are also the ones with the least preparation and lowest rates of participation in preschool. Then those children arrive at school and have to compete with older, better prepared students whose parents may demand more challenging classrooms so their kids aren’t bored.

Still, parents are understandably more concerned with their own child than the bigger picture.

“Around the teenage years, it really starts to suck when your child is a full year younger than all his friends,” says Lola, whose son is entering high school having just turned14. “All the friends who are a year older start to like members of the opposite sex, start growing hair in lot of new places, think their parents are idiots, don’t want to play video games anymore, want to be downtown all the time and get their driver’s license long before your child who is the correct age for their grade. This leaves the correct age for their grade child feeling inadequate to say the least, not to mention lost and confused.”

Of course no one wants their child to have any disadvantages, which is why my friend Angie might have the best idea of all. “My recommendation to parents would be to have babies born between October-March.”

Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on August 22, 2008.

The happy-ish place on earth

Posted on by
Reply

DisneylandIs it possible that the happiest place on earth is now just a happy-ish place?

From my first visit to Disneyland as a 4-year-old, to the hundreds of journeys I’ve made there since, I’ve always thought Disneyland was an E-ticket ride.

The thing about going to Disneyland– sweaty bodies that aren’t your own, outrageous prices, long lines and theme park feet aside–is that it’s a chance to spread a little magic pixie dust and journey back to your childhood.

But this time, even though our recent trip was a blast, it was also a sad reminder that while I’m still a kid from the moment I spot Mickey from the freeway, my own kid is growing up way too fast. He didn’t even want to buy mouse ears because he’d “have to take them off on Thunder Mountain.”

Excuse me? Mouse ears are mandatory.

Back in the 70s, when I was rocking white Go-Go boots, pigtails and a Partridge Family lunchbox, my Grandpa Alex did the dry cleaning for Disneyland. This meant we got free tickets to Disneyland. We must have gone a dozen times every summer, but I still got mouse ears every time–and that was when your choices were with or without a bow. Now the ears (37 styles) snap on to 1,569 different hat options, and don’t even get me started on the patches. Yet Koss was not particularly interested.

Hmm … maybe it’s a boy thing? At least he still skipped with me.

New stuff comes and goes in the real world with alarming frequency, but everything in Fantasyland was just where I left it when I was 7. Watching Alice’s teacups spin brought back some of the happiest memories of my childhood–but if some kind of extreme thrill isn’t involved, then Koss wasn’t willing to wait in more than a five-minute line. My husband Zak got queasy just looking at those saucers spin.

I realize that not everyone digs Disneyland the way I do, but Zak was more excited by the free soda refills at one of the restaurants than the new Nemo ride. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best ride ever, but still, it’s a NEW RIDE at DISNEYLAND! To which he responded, it’s FREE REFILLS at DISNEYLAND! Point taken.

I think Zak’s happiest moment of our three-day adventure was when he saw that “It’s a Small World,” was closed for re-theming. I was crushed, but soon realized that even without the ride I could still hear the echoes of my dad singing, “It’s a Small World After All.”

Just so they wouldn’t feel left out, I sang it a few times for Zak and Koss. They were amused for the first ten minutes or so, then, I don’t know what happened. Some people don’t recognize fun, even when it’s screaming in their ear.

Like I said, it was a happy-ish place this time.

Still, I got them off the roller coasters and into the Tiki Room for a little while. The line for the pineapple froth was too long, and Koss thought it sounded icky, but inside I could almost see Grandpa Alex’s belly jiggling as he danced along with the birds in the “Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room,”

Koss rolled his eyes when I shared the precious Disney memory of when he was a baby and I gracefully managed to spill an entire strawberry slushie on his tushie and then used the very last diaper in all of Disneyland to clean him off.

While I think that one of the greatest things about being a parent is getting to re-experience magic through the eyes of a child, I guess I also have to remember that as a child it’s not that much fun to hear your parents’ stories over and over again.

But seriously, this is a story that involves Disneyland, bodily fluids, and mom being embarrassed. You would think he’d be a little more amused. Where’s the pixie dust when you need it?

I was starting to worry that Koss might not have inherited my Disney gene, when we stumbled onto the parade. His skinny legs bounced along to “Under the Sea” and he grinned as he explained to the crowd that the starfish were doing some of the aerial moves he learned at Circus Camp. Then he waved to Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, forgetting for a moment that he’s almost 9 and too old to get too excited. This place has still got it.

When we finally got home, with throbbing feet and empty wallets, I was too tired to wash the theme park film of saturated fat, sunscreen, sweat and spilled sugar off my body. Koss is still smiling when we carry him to bed and still clutching a couple of magic rings we bought him instead of the mouse ears. Who needs pixie dust? Disneyland’s still got it.

Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on July 18, 2008.

Bringing up Babies

Posted on by
Reply
Claire Bloomfield photo

Claire Bloomfield photo

I was interviewing this fascinating, accomplished, professional woman and it was going great. Our conversation had a nice rhythm, she had some anecdotes and zingers I knew would jump right off the page. Oh joy, oh boy, this profile was practically writing itself. Then, when the interview was just about over, I dropped the bomb. A conversational dud that fell with a big fat thud: Do you have any kids?

It sounds like a pretty innocent question, right? It’s not like I asked her about her favorite sexual position. But she didn’t have kids and that simple truth made me feel like I had crossed a line and was intruding into her personal life.

How is it that we can live in a society that teaches the four R’s–Reading, ‘Riting, ‘Rithmetic and Reproduction–and yet asking someone whether they have children can be considered rude? I wanted to explain to her that even though I’m now on the mom side of the fence, I’m not so far out of her neighborhood.

It wasn’t that long ago that I was childfree and working late nights at the office, cursing my colleagues who got to leave at 5 to pick up Timmy and Susie from daycare, while I had to work late to pick up their slack. I remember what it was like. As much as I love my son, I do sometimes long for the days when every dining out experience didn’t come with complimentary crayons.

There’s been so much written about “the mommy wars” between the stay-at-home moms and moms who work, but nobody really talks about the “my life choices are better than yours” tension between the women who have children and those who don’t. Like it or not: I could feel it in the air as I awkwardly ended the interview.

Now I’m not one of those women who believe it’s everyone’s fate to procreate. I can certainly understand why everyone doesn’t want a baby on board. Not everybody pines for progeny. I know plenty of cheerfully childless people, I thought. Look at Oprah, and Mother Teresa. What about Condoleezza Rice? What’s the big deal? I wanted to explain all that to this woman and couldn’t find the words. It just felt too personal, like I was asking her how much money she made or whether she believed in God.

But as I flipped through my address file later, I realized that the vast majority of people I hang out with have kids. It’s not that I don’t know a lot of childless people, but we don’t really run in the same circles. Apparently, they like their conversations uninterrupted by shouts of, “Stop stabbing your sister with a fork!”

The moment I walked down the aisle and got married it seemed like people started asking me about “the pitter-patter of tiny little feet.” It was amusing at first, but became progressively more painful and annoying as we struggled to have a baby, and the ticking of my biological clock joined in the pitter-patter chorus.

When I was struggling with infertility it seemed like the whole world was pregnant or potty training. I began to cringe inside every time someone asked about kids. Was this what it was like all the time for people without kids?

How do you keep your cool in a world filled with drool? My friend Cara, who gets asked all the time about kids, laughed, “I usually just tell them I’m raising kittens instead.”

Daisy, a college friend who tied her tubes in her 20s, said when people ask her “why don’t you have any children,” she simply retorts: “why don’t you have any class?”

Angie, who’s approaching 40 and is cheerfully childless, says she’s been asked, “Aren’t you getting to the age where you should be having babies?” Her favorite response: “Nah. But aren’t you getting to the age where you should have better manners?”

But my favorite response came from Camie, who said, “I’ll consider having a baby when maternity clothes and minivans are sexy.”

Hmm … I wonder what Angelina Jolie drives?

Is it rude to bring up babies? Share your thoughts–and horror stories–with email.

Originally published in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound on July 11, 2008.