Philly Moms

Feeling Groovy?

Vicki Iovine, whose name I have never figured out how to properly pronounce, of Girlfriend's Guide fame, was my pregnancy hero.  When all other pregnancy books nagged me about folic acid intake and why, despite the fact that I looked and felt like a harpooned whale, I should be getting tons of exercise, Vicki explained the stuff I really wanted to know about:  what was up with all the gas, why my entire body looked "upholstered" because of water retention, and later, after my son was born, why I wanted to throttle my  beloved spouse and possibly also leave the baby in a basket on the doorstep of a kindly neighbor as I headed south to, say, Key Largo.

How To Raise A Philly Kid

My children are suburban creatures.  Because of my own peculiarities and preferences, I'm more comfortable raising them outside the city rather than in. Though they may not be living in the 215 area code, I am hopeful that they will learn the same lessons as their urban peers.  Philly kids are street smart.  Philly kids are dauntless.  Philly kids know that their country is made up of all different kinds of people. Philly kids are worldly and wise. 

A Philly kid knows that most of the Eastern seaboard has an exasperating tendency to regard New York and Washington, D.C., as the only relevant cities, so they learn early how to cope with the bias and not let it get them down.  Sometimes it's best not to fight people's preconceived notions immediately and out loud, but to let one's accomplishments speak for themselves. 

Is It OK To Fight In Front of the Kids?

The other day when I dropped my kids off at my mother's house for an afternoon of grandma fun, my daughter announced, "Mommy and Daddy were yelling and Daddy slammed the door and broke it." 

"Well, no secrets at your house!" my mother remarked.  Right.  Note to self:  if we're going to fight in front of the kids, try to teach them not to advertise the fact.

But is it OK to fight in front of the kids?  I remember my own parents arguing from time to time, but I don't remember ever being afraid or worried or freaked out by it.  My husband and I have about two fights a year, and up until now, they have always occurred in private.  Certainly we've disagreed on any number of things while the kids are within earshot, but as soon as he realizes and acknowledges that I'm right, we move on and everybody's happy.  Right?  Right??!!!

Magical Thinking: Why Kids Believe

We're not religious people in my house.  Nevertheless, we celebrate Christian holidays.  Tradition, family, familiarity and most certainly fun motivate my husband and me to celebrate those occasions with our kids the way we celebrated them when we were kids.

My son is eight, and this past year I could see the Santa skepticism in his eyes.  He asked a few vague and veiled questions about Santa's helpers in malls and the logistics of visiting so many houses in the course of one night.  He remained committed, though, to believing in the magic of Christmas.   The sooty footprints around the fireplace and the cookie crumbs remaining on the plate shored up his faith, but I don't think that will get us by much longer.

Divide and Conquer: One-on-One Time with Kids Might Save Your Life

Ok.  One-on-one time with your kids might not actually save your life, but it will certainly save your sanity.

During the course of normal parenting life, it's not uncommon for us to feel spread too thin. More often than I'd care to admit I find myself making lunches for the next day, overseeing homework, fixing dinner, feeding the dog, loading the dishwasher, and talking on the phone all at once.  One child wants help with math problems and the other one stubs her toe, my daughter spills paint on the floor and my son is tugging on my arm to ask if he can go ride his bike, they both want a snack and dinner is in an hour but I can't remember if anybody has eaten since lunch so, sure, why not, but wait?  Is that a good idea? 

Instead of conscious action, parenting with purpose, I am forced into a mode where I only react to immediate needs as they surface.  In the end, everybody feels shortchanged and while I suspect that most of the time it's me, the nagging guilt that tells me that one of my kids is losing out looms.  I know how valuable that time invested with my son working through his vocabulary words is.  I know that my daughter has waited all day to have fifteen minutes to show me that she can paint a butterfly just so.  I know that my kids deserve my undivided attention in a way they aren't getting it.  In fact, mostly what they're getting is a stressed out and impatient mom.  Instead of delighting in the time I spend with my kids, it starts to feel like a chore and that recognition only serves to up my stress level and my guilt.  Ah, stress and guilt, that lethal cocktail of parenthood, served up almost daily in homes across the land.

How Much Is Too Much: Keeping My Children Safe

I always expected that, in addition to my bra size and hips, my world would get bigger when I had children.  My perspective would broaden, my community would expand, and my experiences would be more varied upon my transformation into A Mother.  Before I had kids, I lived all over the country, traveled extensively, and did my (ahem)  fair share of exploration and experimentation.   Still, I anticipated the doors to open even wider and I looked forward to my debut in my newer, bigger I'm A Mom world.

Certainly, with parenthood came new perspectives and new experiences – almost immediately after they yanked the first child, slick and seriously displeased, from my belly, those perspectives and experiences started coming hard and fast. 

Sleeplessness, sore nipples, explaining that "she" is actually a "he" but "yes, thanks, he is gorgeous.  Takes after his dad," and a love so scarily different and unconditional that the weight of it threatened to crush me.  New mothers are all familiar with these.  It was the way I felt so vulnerable in this newer, bigger world that took me most by surprise.