Mommy Blog Links

This new blog is going straight into my reader. Great photos and great writing.

This video:

killed me.

Hands down the absolute best post I've read on adoption here. Not really a big surprise that it came from her.

Great post on learning about your own motherhood here.

Advice?

So, about -3 of you got my big hint. This blog? The one that didn't make sense? Yeah, I was trying to be clever. That went well.

I'm going to New York City. For the first time. Ever.

It's on my bucket list. Right after "Write down official bucket list."

The day after I bought my crazy cheap airfare, I got this little piece of mail, also on my bucket list:


OhMyGosh I'm so excited! About both, actually. One a little more than the other.

So, advice? What do I ABSOLUTLEY HAVE TO DO in New York? Go.

(Just to clarify: I'm going by myself to visit Joy, R's cousin so it will be a girl's weekend. Joy pictured to the right below when she came to STL last fall.)

Also, a local actor re-enacted the tomato incident of '10. I went back to yesterday's post and added the pics.

My Dearest Eliot,

As you grow up there will be a family joke about you eating tomatoes. I'm sure it will be embellished over time so I want to give you a reference point to the truth.

Here's how it went down: we realized you were stuck in a food rut so decided we'd try as often as possible to get you to at least try new foods. So far that week you'd tried at least 4 other things and all was well in the land. One night I was prepping dinner and cutting cherry tomatoes. You were cranky. But you wanted to help me with dinner. I asked if you wanted to try a tomato and you said yes but then changed your mind and said you don't like them. Then, big surprise, you said you wanted to try a little one.

Now. Our "policy" has been as long as you try it for a few seconds you can spit it out. Whatevs, as long as you try it.

However. As you started chewing the tomato you freaked out. Like full-on-crying as if I'd set Lightening McQueen on fire in front of you. You begged to spit it out. Had it been because you were allergic or the acid content was causing open sores, I would have agreed to that request. But, yeah, you were just in the mood to throw a fit.

(reenactment using local actors)
So I said no, you need to chew it and get it in your belly. And I would never make you eat one again.

(reenactment using local actors)
And for over 45 minutes you convinced your father and I that you would be able to live the rest of your life with a half-chewed tomato stored in your cheek. You were able to eat and drink the rest of your dinner. I'm pretty sure you named it and created a facebook profile for it at one point. Whenever we would confront you on said stash, your attitude would melt down into a pool of pizza sauce. Tomato based pizza sauce.

It wasn't a power struggle, it was you throwing a fit and us being parents.

There will come a day when life happens to you. Often, actually. And someone will say, "Wow, Eliot, you're handling this so well. I'd totally throw a conniption if I were you."

And at that moment you may or may not remember this story. You may or may not remember that throwing a fit got you no where except stuck at the dining room table w/ a cheek full while life went on for the rest of the family.

Know that I love you whether or not you like tomatoes. Know that Dad will keep offering you tomatoes just to see you react.

Building your character one try-bite at a time,
Mom

Bits of my weekend, Vol 20

Last weekend I mentioned that our plans changed last minute. The In-Laws were on their way north to the STL when they had to turn around and head home. Since The Nana couldn't come to the E-beast, I brought the E-beast to the Nana this weekend last minute. And yes, I went to Little Rock to stay with the In-Laws without Russ. On purpose. I like them. It's okay.









There's not a whole lot of pictures because overall it was a pretty low-key trip. Not to mention I can't take photos while driving. =)

By the way, if you haven't already read about it, the "host" of Bits of My Weekend is going through a sudden loss in the family. Click here to read the story and offer support.

Foto Friday: Ballpark Edition

Mommy, Let's play PUNCH!

Image found on...er...flickr, yeah, flickr. I have no idea who this child is. (But hypothetically this may have occurred while the amateur photographer was trying to get her settings right, not really paying attention to her child and his destructive behaviors. Hypothetically.)

Parenting topic numero dos: Boys, Boys, Boys. This is a post for all 3 of you that have a boy besides me. Okay seriously, I know oodles of families with boys but they are either not Eliot’s age or not in our daily-life-social-circles. Eliot is constantly surrounded by girls. It has ALWAYS been this way. I pin the fact that he didn’t learn to crawl “on-time” because little girls kept bringing him all his toys. At church on Sunday I looked over at him just in time to see a girl feeding him a grape. Seriously. But that’s a whole other issue.

Focus, people. Squirrel!

This child-o-mine can be described in verbs at this stage. Verbs that don’t sound very nice. Punch, throw, kick, climb, etc.

Boys are different than girls. Parenting him feels different than watching my friends parent their little girls. It *sometimes* makes me wonder if he has issues. But then I remember he’s a boy. He pokes me in the eye to show me affection. He points out cute penguins to tell me that they just "tooted."

But that’s a slippery slope. The day I mutter the words, “He just has a lot of energy…” will be a bad day. A very bad day filled with dairy and shoe shopping. And I shall die on that hill. Maybe I’m jaded to that excuse from teaching because in my mind, "kids with no discipline at home" is the synonym for “having a lot of energy.” So it's the balance of consistent discipline vs letting a boy be a boy that we're trying to figure out here.

(oops, how did that get in there? weird.)

I’m currently in search of a good book on parenting boys. Not necessarily because I think we’re doing a bad job, mainly because we’ve frankly never done it before. We don't have a problem with him sneaking ants in the house and whatnot. I am prepared for (more) stitches and broken glass, etc. Again, it's the balance between that and for-the-love-of-dairy-please-stop-kicking-the-dishwasher!

Nicole's facebook status once joked something about toddlers being bipolar. Parenting boys makes me feel bipolar. Within minutes I want to squeeze him because he's driving me batty and the next because he's so flippin' sweet. That's probably not specific to boys, actually. I think parenting was designed to make you feel that way.

Keep in mind, while I look forward to braiding a little girl's hair and shopping and painting nails, etc. I absolutely love the essence of 'boy'! As a teacher, I preferred a room of boys, so much less drama. I love adventure. I just need some ideas on how to keep the adventure from becoming a behavior issue. Make sense? I feel foggy.

So, parenting a boy: where should our expectations be? Still trying to figure that out. Tips? Stories? Encouragements? Book recommendations? Judgements? Comments = open forum. Go for it.

Bump-It News!

Thanks to Deb for letting us know that our favorite accessories are on sale at ...Toys r us.

Bucket.

I made a plan. It came together. I started training.

Raise your hand if you're in a parenting funk?

**Btdubs, this post is not written well or even well thought out, so if it's not really flowing just look at the shoes again and move along..

Let's talk about something. Mommy guilt. Ugly mommy guilt. UMG. Somewhat, but not at all, like OMG. Which I'm not a fan of.

(The shoes don't really have anything to do with it, they're just an attention getter. And a break for you from Eliot pictures. And a thank you card to Steve Madden for knowing my needs before I even utter them.)

Last week was my one-year anniversary of working full-time. Or one-year of juggling emotions on being away from a child I worked pretty stinkin' hard to get. One year of cramming bonding moments into the couple hours between work and bedtime and on weekends. 12 months of wondering what he's doing, what he's learning, what he's getting away with, what silly thing he said, what I would do if I were that mom jogging by my window with her stroller during work hours instead of behind this really attractive ear-piece talking about cables and fuses. One year of telling myself how happy I am that lots of my friends are stay-at-home moms, what a great opportunity it is for them.

Last week I was having wine with some other moms one night. It was a great night with these somewhat new-ish friendships. All 5 of us have different work/school schedules and there was a running theme at one point, no matter how many hours you're out of the house. Mommy guilt.

"Am I doing enough?" Probably not. "I could be ____ if I was ___."

I feel like this is one of the those areas that we're all our 'own worst critic' with a side of 'grass is always greener.' (Aww, look at the cliche besties!) If you work out of the home, you feel guilty you're not logging the hours you should be, not to mention the lack of energy once you've gotten home after a long day, having to do housework at some point and blah blah. If you work at home, you feel guilty that you're mentally pulled in two directions, constantly debating your quality in either place. If you are a SAHM, you feel guilty that you're not being a good steward of the time you do get, the blessing it is that you have this opportunity but for pete's sake can I please have a few hours to myself!?

But then you bust out a killer craft and you feel pretty dang proud, especially if it's edible. But then your kid gives you attitude, the laundry gets up and walks out, and you realize that not only do you not have a plan for dinner but there's no food in the house and you never called that friend back and I was totally gonna teach myself how to sew today. Ugh.

Go look at the shoes again. Deep breath.

It's overwhelming at times. The good news is, we love our kids. Bottom line. We love them. And yes, the day-to-day, working/non-working, time vs. money juggling act can mess with your mind but it's all a season.

Ya know, my parents both worked full-time, the ENTIRE TIME I've been alive and *gasp* I still love them to pieces and harbor no ill-will toward those decisions. Because they love me and I've never doubted that for a second.

I think this whole UMG is a distraction. Plain and simple. A lying distraction.

Today I choose to make the most of my time w/ E-beast and that's the long and the short of it. It may not be a couple of hours that I use to teach him how to read or taking long bike rides together. It may be doing laundry together but that's okay, too. Because at some point during laundry I will squeeze him until he says, "No fanks mom."

Btdubs, I have another parenting post coming. Deal with this first, then the secondary issue. Ugh. Or go read this post by my friend Heather, cuz I could have written myself...

Bits of my weekend, Vol 19

At the last minute our plans changed for this weekend which left it wide open. R was home so we went to the Botanical Gardens (in our neighborhood) which is free Saturday mornings (even the Dinosaur exhibit.)











We are slightly obsessed with the farmers market. Can't help it.


Does this strike anyone else as funny?

Eliot's new obsession: blueberry shaved ice.

For more Bits from around the country, click here!