Philly Moms

The Color of Love is Green?

With Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, I can't help but contemplate love. And when I think of love, I inevitably think of my Hubby.  Several years ago, when Hubby and I were dating, Hubs gave me a gift. I know, he is so sweet, right? Ah, the days of dating were so fun. Because you got...stuff. More often than...now. See, now that comes off wrong. I don't mean to sound unappreciative. Hubby is terribly sweet and I'm a lucky girl. He still gets me gifts once in a while. And I'm not a Material Girl. Being married to him is such a gift, that I don't need "stuff" gifts. Even though every girl would admit that it's nice to get gifts once in a while. Ack. There I go again. Hubby: I love you and please disregard this paragraph.

Once again, I digress.

 So Hubby (well, back then he was HBF [Handsome Boyfriend]) tells me that he had gotten me a gift, and I get all giddy inside and wonder, "What it could be?" Flowers? Chocolates? ICE CREAM? A ring?!?! Hubby gets a great big smile on his face and hands me...

 ...reusable grocery bags...

 And nothing says love like reusable grocery bags.

Snowpocalypse II: Don't Blame the Groundhog

Around here, you don't really need a groundhog to tell you that come February 2nd, we're looking at another six weeks of winter. I can't remember the last time that fluffy rat didn't see his shadow. Perhaps if it weren't for the bright lights and cameras shining all around him every brisk February morning in Punxsutawney, PA, we might have a chance to get a taste of spring just a tad earlier. But alas, every year, Phil crawls out of his hole, looks around at the flashbulbs and video equipment, tosses his head aside and mutters, "okay there it is folks, can I go back to bed now?"

Like the slaves to pop culture tradition that we are, we squelch the fleeting desires that we had for packing up the parkas and snowpants a little early. Dashed are our hopes of kite flying in mid-February; of picnicking in the park on a March morning. And we prepare. We prepare to fulfill destiny- the destiny that we have laid out for ourselves by choosing to live here, in the beautiful northeastern United States. The destiny that mother nature, father time, and old man winter have been handing down to us for years, the one that no such furry rodent can take away from us. It is February, and there will be winter. And winter there is. As we buckle down and prepare for what is being broadcast as a "monster storm", "a storm with epic snowfall amounts", we curse the groundhog, and pull out the snowpants and mittens for another stretch of snow days. But let us not blame poor Phil. Phil is merely a patsy. A scapegoat designed to make us feel a little better about the winter doldrums, and perhaps add a little entertainment to the February blahs.

A Sick Day to Soothe Mom's Spirit

The plaintive call came from the bathroom.

"Mom!  Mommy!  Can you come here?"

No call of "Mommy" coming from a bathroom ever bodes well for either the caller or the callee--in this instance, me.  Every mom who has ever heard that cry, and we all have, knows one of two things is going on: your kid is sick, or they've just found something on themselves that's freaking them out.

Usually, these frightened bleatings emanate from younger children, the ones who need to be carried around and ministered to because they're too young to take care of themselves.  But in my case, we're out of younger children.  We have a nineteen year old at school with a twenty-three and a twenty-four year old living at home.  And despite their ages, they still call me from the bathroom, though usually it's because we're out of their brand of shampoo.

This time was no shampoo run, however, and I knew it as soon as I heard my daughter's voice.

Love means "Don't bite your sister"

For a while, I thought love meant that you break into a cold sweat whenever the cutest boy in school walks by. Then I deduced that love goes hand and hand with silence, because it's impossible to talk to cute boys. Eventually I managed to squeak a "Hi" at a boy, and I realized that love needs good communication to survive.

In high school, love meant holding hands, kissing, and talking on the phone. In college, I concluded that love is nothing less than the heart pounding passion found in romance novels. In graduate school, I learned that love grows when it is nurtured in truth and respect.

When I got married, I thought that the best way to love someone was to do the household chores. To that end, I "helped" my husband remember his chores by hanging a large chart on our refrigerator door. Yes, I was young and stupid.

It wasn't until I had kids that I realized the true meaning of love. Love means waking up in the middle of the night to search under a crib for a stuffed animal. Love means never saying "Ewwwww!" when your kid does something gross. Love means being a grown up even when your tempted to throw a tantrum. Love means never telling your spouse they smell like diapers and peanut butter. Love means patiently reading a book 5,000 times in a row. 

In which I wax maturely about age...

Or I don't mind getting older, I just don't want to be old.

Be wise!

A few weeks ago I spent time alone with just my grandmother.  We had to do some business at the bank, a simple task but one made a bit more complicated due to the fact that my grandmother has Alzheimer's Disease.  Surprisingly, my trip with Bubbe, as The Bee, my tween-aged daughter, calls her, was pretty pleasant.  Our transaction was completed within a matter of minutes and with only minimal fuss.  While Bubbe was confused, the confusion was not accompanied by suspicion or arguments.  Bubbe was actually respectful of me and was able to believe that yes, I am a grown woman and not trying to steer her wrong. 
 
Quite honestly I don't spend much time alone with my grandmother.  When she visits, I defer most of her care  and the time spent with her, to my mother.  My mother ensures that she gets her medication, bathes, eats.  I will assist when my mom is still hooked up to her dialysis machine and on the occasion that it is just Bubbe and I but the closeness that The Bee has with my mom is no longer a factor with my grandmother and myself.  As we went about the morning it struck me that whatever I do with my grandmother is being watched by The Bee, my nine year old, and that this is truly a case of do as I say, not as I do. 

Ain't Misbehaving...

Ok.

I was hoping to never have to write this post. But I have a confession. Or maybe it is a cry for help.

*dramatic pause*

My toddler misbehaves.

I know, you are beside yourself with disbelief. I'm sure the concept of an unruly toddler is new to you. I'm not completely certain why I am so caught off guard by my quickly-emerging issue. Maybe it is because I am a first-time parent. Everything is new to me, and I can fortunately still blame all my mistakes on my Parenting Learner's Permit (there are Parenting Mulligans, correct?). Sadly, I must admit I am somewhat delusional. Somewhere, in the recesses of my subconscious, I had myself convinced that I would have a perfectly content and well-behaved child.

Oh, how ignorance is bliss to the first-time parent.

Second guessing my parenting decisions: black belt choices

Before I had kids I knew exactly what to expect. And I knew I would have the most well-behaved kids ever.

Go ahead. Take a few minutes to laugh people, I deserve it.  

I call it the Target Syndrome. I would be shopping in Target, see kids misbehaving and think “Oh no, my kids will never act like that! What a shame their parents don’t know how to discipline.”

I’m actually not sure whether to laugh at myself right now or kick myself.

I had it all figured out, that’s for sure.

Then I really did have kids. And oh boy, did karma bite me in the ass when he gave me our oldest son.

Raising Noah has been one bout of second guessing our decisions after another. None of this is made easier with his neuro-nontypical brain and the fact that everything with him is bigger or faster or grander than we expected; the good and the difficult. 

SV Moms Group Blogs about Haiti

Collectively, we have a powerful voice.  Our messages and stories of aid, sadness, fear, shock and even hope made its way through the internet and social media tools upon learning about the devastation in Haiti.  We want to help and let the Haitians know that they are not alone.  In both small and large ways, the blogging community is here, getting the word out and using our united voices and sites to share love, concern and messages of hope.

CLICK HERE TO SEE ARTICLES WRITTEN BY SV MOMS GROUP CONTRIBUTORS ABOUT HAITI ........

Planning a kids birthday in Philly...what's a mom to do.

I've got a problem. There are too many options for planning and hosting a birthday party in Philadelphia.  I think I'm set on NOT having it at home...the thought of having 12 plus tots running around my home is just not appealing at the moment.  Philadelphia has a plethora of out-of-home kid birthday options that are really enticing; but making the decision is rough.  Questions keep racing through my already spinning head.

Is this one too expensive?
Is this one too far for pre-school friends and parents to get to?
This place was already used for another pre-school friends birthday party.
Will there be enough food from the list of what is included?
Will this place be fun enough for a large group of three and four year olds?

I think I may not worry so much if big birthday bashes were an annual thing for Elebelly, but the reality is we have not thrown her a full-blown birthday party since her first birthday.  We did take her to Storybook Land last year which was so fun!  But this year I would love to give her the opportunity to celebrate with her friends from school.  I think at four kids really start understanding what birthdays and holidays mean and really like being the center of attention. 

Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh: A Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Club

Love affairs in Paris, culture, style, genius. Typical mom stuff, right? Join us as Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers talk about the book Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh.

• Sophia from Moody Mommy ponders Me? Naked?
• Christina from Hooey Critic explains that in German it would be called 'Ehebruch'
• Sam from Temporarily Me Dot Com thinks about Love. Elsewhere 
• Lisa from Hannemaniacs' revels in her luxurious life
• Melanie from Tales from the Crib discusses faithfulness
• Jessica from It's My Life has a little Coco Chanel flashback
• Heidi from Coast 2 Coast Mom wonders how Coco Chanel would have done a mom uniform
• Leticia from Tech Savvy Mama finds that member-only sale sites feature Coco Chanel and designer duds for less
• Kim from I'm Not the Nanny found herself examining family vs career aka SAHM vs working moms
• Erica from wellthoughtoutspot wonders what Coco would say about her unfashionable side
• Vanessa from Chefdruck Musings Puts Down the Paintbrush to Find the Right Tool for her Creativity
• Stacy from Laptop TV Mom discusses Coco Chanel and Tiger Woods
• Michelle from Wife and Mommy reveals her special talent
• Ana from Finding Bonggamom has a love affair with pearls
• Linsey from Me Too You talks about independence and balance

Silicon Valley Moms Blog is hosting the book club discussion this month. Please leave a comment below and join in the discussion.

Past Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

• See Mom Run by Beth Feldman
  
• Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind by Phillip Done
• This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Topper
• Do One Nice Thing by Debbie Tenzer
• Birth Day by Mark Sloan, M.D.
• What Happened to the Girl I Married? by Michael Miller
• Testimony by Anita Shreve
  
• Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs
  
• Much to Your Chagrin by Suzanne Guilette
  
• It Started with Pop-Tarts by Lori Hanson
  
• Who By Fire by Diana Spechler
• The White Trash Moms Handbook by Michelle Lamar
• Writing Motherhood by Lisa Garrigues
• The Vaccine Book by Dr. Robert W. Sears
• The Other Mother by Gwendolen Gross

Click here to read all about the Silicon Valley Moms Group Book Club.

This is not a paid for post. The publisher of this book did provide free copies to Silicon Valley Moms Group bloggers to use for this book club.

Making the Call--No Cell Service or an Ugly View

I find myself caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place.

Imagine life without your cell phone.  Now imagine holding your perfectly functioning cell phone in your hand while staring out your front window at the vision of a cell phone tower standing five stories high across the street.

Like most folks, there have been hundreds of times when I've been tempted to throw my cell phone out the window, flush it down the toilet, run it over with my car...but I digress.  As much as the thing drives me crazy, the fact is that without it, I'd lose my primary means of communication with the four people most important to me--my husband and three kids.

For better or worse, our cell phones have become our way of keeping track of one another.  In the last half hour alone, I texted my husband and daughter at college while fielding a phone call from another daughter at work.  My son checked in earlier.

No, we weren't trying for a boy

When we brought our sweet third daughter Sydney home from the hospital two and a half years ago, all of us were instantly in love.  Her big sisters thought she was the cutest thing ever and immediately wanted to dress her up in outfits that matched theirs.  We loved seeing the sisterly bond that formed between them and getting to know our precious newest family member.

And in the joy that accompanied her homecoming, I was stunned by the number of people who asked me if we were going to "try once more for a boy."  What happened to a simple "Congratulations?"  Was there something wrong with our little princess, that we should be dissatisfied with her and want a boy instead? 

Defining an Earthquake

 "I don't know what an earthquake is," Middle, my 4-year-old, stated this morning while we were watching Good Morning America.

"I do! Its in my encyclopedia!" responded Big, age 6. He raced off to get it.

Without discussing it, the Huz and I have decided to view some of the coverage of the Earthquake with our children. We've been openly discussing disaster relief and how compassionate (most of) the world has been. Its been a novel lesson of charity for our children.

What we failed to realize was that watching the aftermath didn't clearly explain what had happened. Unbeknownst to us, Saturday night, Big pulled out his children's encyclopedia and Earth science books to research it himself. So when Middle asked about it, Big ran off to grab all of his books. Then he performed a lesson.

Lessons Learned from a King

I am white. Very white. My ancestors hailed from Ireland, France, Germany and England. I look white. My golfing buddies call me "Notebook Paper Skin" (Get it ? Ghostly white with blue veins?). They say my legs could be confused with Out of Bounds stakes (for those non-golfers --they're the white ones). I grew up in the Midwest in a suburban WASP family. I didn't know any Jewish people until I met my freshman roommate in college. There weren't any African Americans in my town. Not a one. The mayor was re-elected for 40 years, running on the platform that he'd personally keep the city that way.  Now before you judge me please realize that you can't choose your gene-pool, your parents or where you live as a child. I just wanted to set the stage for story of the day that changed me forever.

Back in the early 90s I was transferred to a small town in the North Georgia mountains. A town that has a church on every corner, where liquor stores have to be called "Package Stores" and where the Ku Klux Klan was not only alive and well but still had rallies and marches. Even for this white bread girl it was culture shock, y'all.

I lived next door to an elderly woman who had a black housekeeper named Bernice. They would invite me over for fried pies. Yes, fried pies. In the South everything that can be fried will be, including tomatoes, Twinkies and pickles. We all became good friends.

One January morning in 1992 Bernice, sporting her new Martin Luther King Jr. sweatshirt, reminded me that it was MLK Day and asked if I was going to the rally in his honor later? Well actually I didn't have that one penciled in on my calendar but I said something like "yes I'd like to, but I'm not sure what I'm doing this afternoon." Then I went about my day.