baby shower

I know two or three pregnant people right now and I am expecting baby showers soon. And that means I am going to have to buy some presents.

It never ceases to amaze me how we, as women, can hold an entire race of humans in secrecy about what actually happens when you have kids. How your life is never the same, never as simple, how things are harder and tireder and your back always hurts. How there's never enough of anything you actually need again: money, time, sleep, patience--but on the other hand an absolute sodding surplus of things you don't need or don't want (think dirty diapers, laundry, life-decisions).

What is it that keeps us moms in a code of silence? I've said it before, if men had babies approximately one man would have one baby, and then say to the other men "do NOT do this" and the entire of humanity would die out. But women--we're stuck in this kind of secret silence about the gravity of the situation, which we make even worse by bringing gifts and planning showers for the whole of the pregnancies to make it seem as if having a baby is like a really long Hanukkah. What is it that keeps us bringing gifts and planning parties instead of warning those future mommies?

Oh yeah: I just remembered what it is.

It's that love. That little seed that those kids plant inside you when you first see them--upon adopting, or giving birth to them (or as I say, having them "extracted"). That little seed of amazing love that grows and grows with the first months, and then years, and then just keeps on growing, until--like that plant in Little Shop of Horrors--it absolutely consumes you. You are just nuts with love, and until the day you die (may it be a long time from now) you will hold a photo, or probably a phone with photos on it, up to a complete stranger to show them your kid, or kids, or even nieces or nephews. And you'll go on and on and on even knowing that the other person might not care but just bragging about what your son said, or what your daughter did. It's something so strange that makes the strongest woman or man just weak knowing that there is a part of your heart that is actually out there in the world, outside of your body, exposed, and hoping that it protects itself long enough it to return home for dinner, god willing.

And maybe that's why we bring presents: it's a right of passage. And it's usually something that will help soften the blow of what's about to change lives forever. But mostly, it's a celebration of love, love, love: the purest and most amazing life-changing love of your life.

And celebrations always warrant presents.

if at first you don't succeed

All my life I might have been funny, and a bit of a showoff, but everyone who knows even the littlest bit about psychology would figure after knowing me for 5 minutes that I am terribly self-conscious, a trait found in comedians and psychologists, and am only trying to throw the focus off of myself. So it comes as a great surprise sometimes when my children are acting up, horribly, and everyone is looking at me for an answer.

After working with Autistic children for years, throwing themselves on the floor at McDonalds, pinching me black and blue, you'd think that my "mind your own business" nerve was attuned for people who are giving me the stink-eye. But no, I, just like all people, am self-conscious. And I, like all parents, am just guessing.

When other moms, especially new moms, come to me with advice about this thing or that, sleeping schedules, to pacifier or not to pacifier, circumsicion (Believe it or not, even with two girls), I give them one bit of advice first. "Do not think you have to take anyone's advice. I'm so sorry to tell you, but we're all only guessing." If you're a first time parent it might even come to a shock as you look back upon your own life and realize, oh no, that means our parents were only guessing too! And it's true. No one actually knows when to go in and placate the baby when he's screaming, or what's the "right" age to get rid of the nuk, or what signals it's now time to potty train. We're all just guessing, bit by bit, hoping to get it right but often times failing.

The best advice I can give about parenting is this: "Try, try again." If at first you don't suceed, don't let it get you down! We're all just guessing! It's only natural that we'll get a few wrong. SO just pick up, dust off, and try again.

Either that or the line from my favorite book, Pinkalicious: "You get what you get and you don't get upset." That's one I could use for children and adults. About so many things.

still winter

"Um, Mom? Is it summer yet?" These are not uncommon words coming from my 4-year-old. And I look out the window, at the fresh 8 inches of snow, and sigh, "No, dear. It's still winter."

This is a really hard time of year for me, and for most moms and dads, stay-at-home or working. Since Winter began this time around on December first (I have a photo on my phone from the first snow...Dec. 1, 2010), it's been a really long time of snow and not being able to go out, of jackets and boots and gloves and hats and scarves. All I want is to be able to get 2 kids to the car with only clothes, and shoes. Nothing superfluous. But that's not to be, at least, not this month. So I am trying to find things to do inside the house (like you are, I'm sure), and since we've exhausted all the play-dough and markers, I'm asking the kids for help ("help" even when it's not so....helpful) on my quest to organize this little house.

Here's a few blogs that are really helpful in the quest for a great late-winter. They give me a lot of exciting and helpful information, and definitely help relieve the winter blahs--at least, long enough to remember that "spring is right around the corner, mom!"

The Lettered Cottage: a really neat blog about two creative and crazy folks who spend a lot of time on interior design and just getting things together--check out their before and after page--just incredible transformations from blah rooms to gorgeous spaces with little budgets. Where is my paint roller??
http://theletteredcottage.net/

The Pioneer Woman--this blog is a great true story about Ree Drummond, a spoiled rich city kid who married a rancher and now entertains her children with photos of cows and buttery homemade food. Check it out, so cool:
http://thepioneerwoman.com/

Remember: it's almost here. Spring.

Oxy clean

"maybe you should use Oxy Clean. Oxy Clean gets the hard stains out," said my 4-year-old this morning.

And I thought: I think we need a break from TV.

What did parents DO before TV? Most (and I'm thinking this is approximately 99.7%) of the parents I know have some sort of TV-time or TV rules for their house. It needs no explanation: TV gives parents a moment of no-kids, and gives kids something to relax and tune out to. Do they need time to relax and tune out? Well, that's up to you. But Helena The Girl Who Would Not Nap really seems better after one or two Penguins of Madagascar. Actually, so do I. Have you seen it? It's hilarious.

Besides a break from TV that we obviously need, I'm thinking of a break from clutter. Those two things, TV and junk, take up more of my time than I care to admit. So little by little I'm going through my house, again, to just sort, reorganize, and rid the house of all of the stuff. And I thought you'd like to see some of the great items I love, that I've found. This month: organize kitchen, and make the best with the kitchen I have instead of waiting for the kitchen I want.

Have a grody knife block? (Take a look at your knife block--I bet it's got greasy dust and gunk on it.) Check this out from Ikea...a magnetic knife rack! And it looks cute on the wall, and then you can get rid of your grody (term for "gross") knife block and superfluous knives you haven't used since after your honeymoon.
http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/00116901

How about something for those drawers full of utensils? This wonderful, cheap, useful item from The Container Store takes up the extra space in your drawer and organizes it... so you never have to search under or around that old organizer floating around in there now.
http://www.containerstore.com/shop/kitchen/drawerOrganizers/trays?productId=10006940&N=182


If you just take it one step at a time, you can do this. Parenting, organizing, and cleaning, saving money: these are all related. Step by step, you can succeed at any of them.

Also, when in doubt, Oxy Clean gets the hard stains out. That's what my daughter tells me anyway.

performance lessons

Living with a 4-year-old reminds me that there are not enough of them being employed. I'm serious: TV, radio, Broadway--there would never again be the dreaded "dead air" threatening the entertainment industry. They are like the best sports commentators: even when there's nothing to tell, they're telling it.

I signed Helena up to be in The Nutcracker with her Ballet company this year. I began ballet when I was three, and was in the Nutcracker at age 5 or 6, and just loved it totally. Still to this day, the first strains of the Tchaikovsky classic give me butterflies, recall the smells of pine flooring and dusty curtains. We danced at the Ford Auditorium and later the Fox Theater, both in downtown Detroit, and both really important venues, and danced alongside some of the most world-renowned dancers of the time, which gave us the feeling of real performers instead of just kids. Like the mini-Rockettes. Naturally, when the time and opportunity came for Helena to be involved here in Pittsburgh I jumped at the chance, eager for her to know the joys of ballet. Or perhaps become a famous and rich ballet dancer. Either way.

Of course later, I was regretfully thinking "why??" as I sewed and re-sewed her costume for the performance. Showed up to countless rehearsals wherein she was required for 20 minutes out of the 2 hours. And to top it all off, she is four, so there is a natural irreverence about anything you're doing. And, of course, for anything your mom is doing. It really is like a sitcom.

This was the show as I sat there ripping old seams:
Helena: "Dee dee dee, dum dum dum, now THIS is comfortable, mommy. Mommy? MOMMY! EXCUSE ME MOMMY, I want to show you something."
Me: (looking up) "Oh, dear, are your underpants over your pants? How did that happen?
-30-second interlude, noises of straining-
Helena: "I FORGOT! These pants don't go ON YOUR NECK! Hahahah!"
Me: (sewing)
Helena: "Maaa-maaa, what are you doooooo-ooing?"
Me: "Sewing your costume honey."
Helena: "I don't want to wear that costume."
Me: "Too bad." [I mean...] "It looks so beautiful on you, Helena, like a princess."
Helena: I don't want to be a princess. I want to be an explorer."

-sigh.-

The Nutcracker went great, though, and she did not wear her underpants over her costume. But again, I find myself doing the same thing at Valentine's day: wondering if there are auditions for anything nearby:

Me: "Honey, here are your hearts that we made for the kids at school. Let's put their names on them."
Helena: "NO! NO! NO! I DON'T WANT TO GIVE THESE HEARTS AWAY."
Me: "Honey, you have to give your hearts away sometime" [I'm thinking, hey! New country song!]
Helena: "NO! NO! NOONONONONONONO! Boo hoo hoo [hysterical sobbing]."
Me: "I bet it's past your bedtime."
Helena: (No tears, instantly happy and not crying at all) "Why, mom? I'm not even tired."

Well, I am, I think to myself. Hollywood, are you listening? Because I think someone deserves an Emmy.