Family Fun - Awesome DC Area Resource

Every weekend I try to identify special activities for the family and every weekend I turn to an awesome blog, http://kidfriendlydc.com/

Want to pass this along as it's my secret weapon to fighting off boredom and getting the kids out of their regular play routine. And with the winter weather, gone are the long days of outdoor play.

Check it out if you're looking for activities for kids big and small, or even friends and family visiting from out of town. 

Enjoy!

Tips for Working Moms

As a mother who works outside the home full-time, there are many lessons I've learned when it comes to trying to juggle the many, many balls that are always in the air. There is also a lot of wisdom that's been imparted on me by friends and colleagues. In hopes of paying it forward, here are ten tips that I've found helpful.

At the Office:

• Do NOT use being a parent as an excuse at work/don't play the parent card at the office. If you're late to work because of something kid related, apologize for being late, but don't make being a parent the excuse. Don't say, "I'm sorry I'm late. Things were just crazy at home today." because anyone without kids can have a crazy morning. It's just life. If you need to vent about the morning, go find a colleague who has kids.
• Communicate with your team. If your hours will vary compared to the schedules of other team members, talk to those people and let them know your hours and how you're going to make it work that your different schedule will not create more work for them. Maybe you need to be available from home early in the morning and after you put your kids to bed. If that's the price of always being home to put your children to bed, it's worth it.
• Remind yourself regularly that you don't have anything to prove, you just need to do your job and do your best to do it well. No one is rooting against you. No one assumes you can't be a mom and do your job. It's in your head, but I know it feels real. 
• Don't shy away from projects and assignments because the more you are engaged at work, the more satisfied you will likely feel. And that translates to a little less mommy guilt about not being at home.
• When you're first returning to work from  maternity leave, remember that your baby probably is asleep for half the time you're away at work. So while you may feel like you're missing a full day with your baby, you're probably only missing four awake hours and instead of doing laundry and chores around the house, you're actually eating lunch. With utensils. While sitting down.

In General:

• Be kind to yourself. Doing the best you can doesn't translate to feeling good about everything you do everyday. One day you're doing the best you can at getting your house in order before heading to work. One day you're doing the best you can at being on time for every call and meeting. One day you're doing your best at just not falling apart. Be kind to yourself.
• Do as much shopping as you possibly can online. And I mean as MUCH as you can. Take advantage of being able to order anything you need without having to sacrifice precious mommy time running errands. Whether it's diapers, clothing, gifts, groceries or takeout, find it online. Many companies now offer free returns and all you need to do is download a pre-paid return shipping label for anything you don't want to keep which removes some added costs of online shopping. Seasonally I will order several styles of pants in two sizes each to try on my son at home. If I took him to a store to try on clothes, not only would it take forever, there would be a lot of negotiating and bargaining. No fun. Shipping fees are worth it. And you'll probably find that many companies - diapers.com in particular - seem designed for the absent minded parent who needs diapers/products in a hurry as they deliver on a regular 1-2 day schedule. So when you're wondering how you ran out of diapers without knowing, you're not alone. There wouldn't be an entire online company that ships immediately if there weren't a lot of us ordering at the last minute.
• Find shortcuts to things. Along the lines of online shopping, batch cook meals on Sundays to make meal time less stressful. Designate a night for takeout so you don't feel guilty for not making dinner or like a failure because you didn't get around to shopping to be able to make dinner. Instead, make it part of the "be kind to yourself" routine.
• Find a sitter and book weekends even if you don't have plans. Friday and Saturday night sitters are hard to find so lock in the nights when they are available and build plans around those dates. And don't forget that having a sitter come in the middle of your day on a weekend might also feel heavenly. While kids take a mid-day nap or have chill time, you can run to the movies, brunch with friends, or a lunch date.
• Buddy up with another couple for "Monitor sitting." Simple and genius and a lot less expensive than a sitter. If you have friends with kids, plan nights when you put your own kids to sleep and have a friend just come "monitor sit" while you go out. This way you're not paying a sitter to just hangout in your home while kids are asleep and there's nothing to do. Alternate weekends with your friends and you just scored yourself free babysitting.

Ode to Daylight Savings

There once was a time of year, to which I looked forward to and held dear.

A time when I would roll the clocks back an hour, the bar would stay open longer and from this night of drinking I would not cower.

I would wake up and have an extra hour in the day. A longer snooze, longer brunch, so many great options I would say.

Night would arrive sooner than I would like, but curling up to TV and takeout sure was nice.

So I welcomed this daylight savings, this gift of extra time. But then realized once I had kids, that extra hour was no longer mine.

Daylight savings I hate you, you wrecked my Sunday. My kids were up before six and wanted to play. They giggle and laugh after a full night of sleep, while I feel drunk with exhaustion and dreams of counting sheep.

Daylight savings today you're the evil twin of when we spring forward. I can't wait to lose an hour and make one day shorter.

Respectfully,
Me

Who's on First? The truth about parent dynamics.

I over share. I know this is a shocking surprise as you read a blog about my life.

During a conversation with a male colleague who also has two young children, we got to talking about how things operate in each of our respective homes and we realized that we share a similar set-up. In both of our homes, one parent is the MVP while the other is the backstop.

For team Rich, I play the role of coach, team manager, equipment manager, referee, orange slice provider, water boy, chauffeur and cheerleader, thereby earning my MVP title. If I go down, we all go down.

My husband, on the other hand, plays backstop. His one job is to prevent someone or something from getting past both of us.

This realization of the dynamics in my home got me thinking about how being MVP of the household is not a job I actually want. Sure, there's a lot of pressure that comes with backstop, but there's also a lot of work that comes with MVP.

Backstop doesn't require constant attention so long as you have excellent reflexes. (This is where my husband would tell me it's "ninja-like" reflexes, not just excellent reflexes). MVP requires all senses to be operating in high gear at all times.

Backstop doesn't have to bring anything to the game. MVP is the game. MVP gave life to the players (ah...that giver of life thing never gets old).

So, as I settle into the third day that my backstop is on a boys golf trip, is it so surprising that I'm pondering how I can just be a spectator one of these days?

Ad Age

Here are some ads that I view differently as a parent than I did when just a consumer.

Nike, "Just do it"
This used to be an inspiring statement that would actually motivate me to workout. I would see a Nike ad and want to go for a run. Since becoming the person who plays the parent card as an excuse for not exercising, the Nike slogan is now how I refer to everything I think my kids should inherently know how to do but don't. Examples? Sleeping. Just , as the book says, Go the Fuck to Sleep. Just do it .You're tired and can barely keep your eyes open but somehow don't know how to get from zombie to asleep?  Pee in the toilet and not next to it. Just do it. I can't be more specific about where to aim.

Coca-Cola, "Have a Coke and a smile"
Fuck you, Coke. You can't fix my day. How about Have a rum and a Coke and a smile? That's speaking the language of parents.

AIG, "We know money"
No you don't. Pampers does.

Allegra, "The relief goes on "
That's not Allegra, that's what I call nap time.

"Got milk?"
Not as funny as you might think when said to a breastfeeding mother.

Chevy Trucks, "Like a rock"
Try a toddler throwing a tantrum who is dead weight while face down in (insert name of whatever store you no longer visit).

Disneyland, "The happiest place on earth"
Wrong. Happiest place on earth is a restaurant that doesn't allow children.

Energizer, "It keeps going, and going, and going..."
There's not a parent out there who hasn't looked at an over tired child who is behaving as if having a manic episode and thought "Holy shit. He/she keeps going, and going, and going...." When is this going to end?!

Wrigley's Doublemint Gum, "Double your pleasure, double your fun"
I dare you to say this to parents of twins.

Oscar Mayer, "I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener"
Because three year old boys need another reason to walk around saying "wiener."

Kit-Kat Bar, "Give me a break! Give me a break!"
No comment.

Burger King, "Have it your way"
Spoken to the child who wants to wear a tutu on top of a bathing suit on top of a dress with pants underneath, dress-up plastic Cinderella shoes and three headbands.

Nissan, "Enjoy the ride."
I'm trying.

Don't Ask. Don't Tell.

Let me tell you, be better than me. Don't ever ask your three year old what they know about what you do/provide. They have no clue and they don't care. Selfish little fuckers!

Having just come off a week of family vacation - and as the person responsible for packing everyone's shit and therefore being responsible for unpacking - in the throws of frustration of putting so much stuff away, I asked my son, "Reece, do you know who brought all of your favorite things to be the beach?" I held my breath, hoping to hear him reply with a loud and grateful "Mommy!" but instead all I got was "The car." Technically, he's right that the car brought his stuff to the beach and perhaps I should be proud, but I was furious.  Determined to make a point, I entered a conversation that I can't now forget. And it's ruined me.

"Reece, it was mommy who packed all of your favorite things for the beach. Wasn't that nice?"
"Mommy, want to go outside?"
He has no interest in this conversation.

"Reece, do you know who packs your lunch for camp?"
"No."
Dagger to the heart as I think about how stressed I get each morning as I try to create lunches that will make him so happy that he'll exclaim at the lunch table "I love this! Mommy packed all my favorite things!"  I now realize that the lunch table conversation probably sounds more like, "I saw a trash truck today."

It;s a humbling reminder that what a three year old cares about is exactly what my son asked me about when I tried talking to him. He wants to play. He wants to spend time with me and do things with me. There's no concept of why and how, just who and where. Something I need to learn and value. My measure of myself as a mother is all about how I care for my kids; that they always feel safe and loved. But I realize that what Reece measures is time spent together.

So next time, the question I ask will be "Who played with you today?" For that, surely he'll say "Mommy!" right? Or he'll say, "Let's go watch a show." So I've got that going for me.

Humph!

The Mind of the Baby Sister

I love my brother.

He’s so silly.

Ouch. Why does he hug me so tight?

I think he wants to kill me.

Now he’s being nice.

Oh, there’s mommy. A witness.

I want his toys.

Why does he want my toys?

When will I be able to play with toys?

I want to eat his toys.

I want to eat the carpet.

I think I want to lick the floor.

I licked the floor.

Why doesn’t anyone care that I’m licking the floor?

He took my toys.

I’m going to cry.

VICTORY! Mommy picked me up.

She had to put down her wine.

She loves me.

Whoops, I threw up.

That didn't bother me at all.

Mommy will change my clothes, right?

I have to poop.

I will do that right after she changes my outfit,

And then I will throw up again.

I need to put something in my mouth.

I’ll eat my toes.

Why are my toes so far from my face?

I hate reaching for them.

Where's my brother?

Ouch! He threw a toy at me.

I hate him.

I love him.

I wanted that toy anyway.

I'm going to eat that toy.

I pooped.

And repeat.

If Toddler's Ruled the World.

If toddler's ruled the world, it would be a much simpler place.

A place where fights and wars ended with two words. I'm sorry.

A place where polution would never be an issue because NOTHING is trash. Everything is a treasure.

A place where we wouldn't use so many plastic water bottles a year that we could circle the earth so many times because once you have your favorite sippy cup, that's all you would ever use.

A place where every animal would be adored. Trust me. There are kids who love rats and pigeons.

A place where beauty wouldn't be a consideration for children don't judge appearnces.

A place where any house that has a toy, cup, ball, train, hose, doll or pet would be just the right size.  It wouldn't matter how big or small or fancy.

A place where sadness would end with the promise of a "special treat."

A place where people shared their belongings so everyone would always have something.

A place where pain would be alleviated with kisses and band-aids.

A place where chicken nuggets were a staple of one's diet.

A place where medicine only came in cherry, grape and bubble gum flavors.

A place where naps would be mandatory. And if you couldn't sleep, you would be required to at least rest in cozy jammies for an hour.

Now granted, this would also be a place where people pee and poop in their pants.

A place where anger would be expressed by stomping one's feet and then crumbling to the ground and laying there. Face down.

A place where tiny sober people would wander the streets aimlessly like little drunks.

As I piece this all together, it's quite clear that 3 year olds have a better base on fundamental principles of how the world should work than those who actually lead it.  Where's that kid president when you need him?

One Direction's "The Story of My Life" - The Sleep Training Edition

Written in these walls are the stories that I don't want to explain

I leave the door open as if a masochist to hear her pain

If she could talk, she would tell me in the morning she doesn't want me to leave her to cry it out alone

Seems to me that when I die these words will be written on my stone

And I'll be gone, gone tonight

May the ground beneath my feet suddenly open wide

The way that I've been up all through the night

Is it heaven or hell?  I'm somewhere in between

The story of my life

I take her home 

Only to want to drive all night just to be alone

And time.... Is frozen

The story of my life

I've lost all hope

I give her love

Which she takes until I'm broke

Inside

The story of my life 

Written by doctors are books that address her sleepless rage
Leave the door open but baby stays right there in her cage

I know that in the morning now I will feel relief that nighttime is done

And though I'll wake broken, another day will have just begun

And I'll be gone, gone tonight

There's going to be another screaming fight

The way that she refuses to sleep tight

And there's nothing in between

The story of my life

I swaddle her tight

I've practiced for months to make sure it's right

And time.... Is frozen

The story of my life

I've lost all hope

I give her love

Which she takes until I'm broke

Inside

The story of my life

And to think I had been waiting for this time to come around

But baby trying to teach you to sleep is like chasing the clouds

The story of my life

She just won't sleep

I've read the books,

Just f-ing do it please

And time.... Is frozen 

The story of my life

I've lost all hope

I give her love

Which she takes until I'm broke

Inside

The story of my life 

Isn't it ironic? Welcome to parenthood.

Almost everything about being a parent is ironic.

You spend your formidable years trying to prove your parents were wrong about everything, only to learn once a parent yourself, that they were pretty much right about everything.

You become a parent of young children and suddenly switch from coffee mugs to drinking from a hot beverage to-go cup with a lid even though you're not going anywhere. Ever.

Everyone in your house is tired, yet no one sleeps. My least favorite irony.

You yearn for your child to say "mommy" or "daddy" only to later resent the sound of those two syllable words as the name is generally followed by the words "I need" or "come here" or "I want" or better yet.... shrieks.

You spend your teenage years and twenties (if not longer) learning self love and how to take care of yourself emotionally and mentally. Only to later give yourself entirely away to these little people and forsake your own sanity to raise them as best you can.

You wait for major milestone moments to happen, praying that you don't ever miss one. Then the moment comes and you're watching it through the lens of your iPhone, totally missing the chance to be "in" the moment.

You have an instinct to run to your child when he or she falls, but later learn not reacting or even laughing or clapping are more productive. They learn it's ok to fall and you learn it's ok for them to fall, too.

You think your child is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, yet society tells us not to tell our daughters how pretty we think they are.

You think your child is bright, but studies show reinforcing "smart" doesn't help your child gain confidence. So what are we left to tell them you often wonder?

You encourage them to be social and make friends, yet you wonder if those friends will be the very ones your own parents often referred to when they would say "We trust you. We just don't trust your friends."

You encourage independence, yet fear the moment you're not longer needed.

You want to be their friend, but know there's a difference between friend and parent. And parent is the job title.

At this early stage of parenting experience - only three years in - the greatest irony of all is that for as much as I "prepare" by reading and talking with friends and total strangers I meet in the park or play groups - I'm completely unprepared. I guess it really just comes down to doing the absolute best job you can, even though the child may not feel like we really tried at all. And this is when I will refer them to irony #1....about finally learning that our own parents were mostly right about everything.

Lost and Found

"Mommy! Where is my xx?"

The words are not spoken, but rather shrieked. Peppered with equal amounts of frustration, blame, anxiety and immediate need. It's not even so much a question as it is an accusation. As if you, the one who is responsible for finding said object is the very person who hid or lost said object. And only because of a child's ability to ask the same question incessantly, you immediately drop whatever you're doing to try and solve the caper of the missing whatever it is that's lost. 

For all the grating pleas. All the items presumed lost, but only intentionally hidden by my three foot tall perpetrator, whenever I am not looking for something and just uncover a child's treasure in a random place in the house, I can't help but smile. It's as if their treasures become as valuable to me as they are to them.

Today, in the quiet of the house as both kids were napping, I climbed into my bed to watch Bravo - naturally an episode of what I like to call The Not So Real Not Even Housewives of (insert any city for which there is a show). But as I went to sit down I noticed a lump under the duvet. It was Reece's stuffed bunny. I held it and smiled, thinking of how it got in my bed - during the ritual of cartoons in my bed when he wakes each morning. And then I reached for the remote and next to it was a matchbox car. Again, I smiled, thinking of how happy he will be when he sees it. A toy he didn't accuse me of losing today, but surely will be just as happy being reunited with it as if it had been long gone.

To me, this is all a metaphor for parenting. 

My parenting journey has so far been part hidden moments, part stolen moments and fear of moments lost.

For the aggravation associated with the dire pleas of "mommy! Where is my xx" there is also tremendous satisfaction in being able to answer that question most of the time. So for now I will just remind myself that this is my journey as a mom. Keeper of the lost and found.

Birthday Party Venues - DC/MD

This isn't a sexy post (are they ever?), nor is it an attempt at wry humor and witty sayings. This is just a post that I hope someone will find handy as they tackle the birthday party planning process in the DC area.

I would LOVE to be the creative, crafty, clever mother who can create a party with some fresh ideas, help from Pinterest and baking skills. But, I'm not. So, I'm forced to resort to either having a pizza party at my house for Reece's upcoming birthday, hiring entertainment for said pizza party or doing an "off site" party. 

So to hopefully save at least one person the trouble of trolling the Internet and that terrifying DC Urban Moms and Dads blog, I've put together some general information on party options in the DC/MD area.

Please add your experiences or favorites!

Hiring Entertainment:
Ah, how it would be so exciting and fresh if this actually referred to some good ole risque entertainment. And in fact the first two companies have names that made me giggle...but then I quickly recovered as I thought of my son and a dozen 3 year olds.

Some options for those who have the space and desire to host a party at home, but would like some entertainment for the kiddos:

• Squeals on Wheels (Mobile Petting Zoo and Pony Rides for hire)
• Fun Bus (A school bus converted into a mobile gym for playtime right in your driveway)
• Capitol Fire Truck Rentals (Rent a firetruck to come to your home for activities lead by a real fireman) 
• Oh Susannah! (music, balloon animals, face painting)
• The Great Zucchini (magic show)
• Bounce House Rentals (rent bounce houses,slides, concession stands, face painting)
• Game Truck (mobile video game/theater)

Party Venues

When you don't have the space at home, or don't have the desire to turn your home into a zoo, here are a few places in the area that you can turn to for parties:

• Variety of Activites - Kidville (art,open gym, music)
• Tumbling - My Gym, Gymboree, Jonah's Treehouse
• Bouncing - Bounce U, Pump It Up
• Bowling - Lucky Strike, Bowlmor
• Art/Painting Pottery - Color Me Mine, All Fired Up
• Ice Skating 
• Indoor Trampoline Park 
• Cake/Cupcake Decorating Party
• Ballet/Musical Theater Parties

Museum Venues with activities

• The National Zoo 
• The National Building Museum 
• National Children's Museum

Playground Etiquette

While home on maternity leave, I have frequented two playgrounds on an almost daily basis and I have witnessed too many violations of playground etiquette to hold my tongue any longer. I've been left with no choice other than to pen this first draft of Playground Rules. I welcome you to add to this list.

Rule #1) PARENT!  Don't just "be" a parent at the playground. Actively parent. Keep an eye on your child.

Rule #2) Discipline your child if he or she misbehaves. This includes the following playground "crimes" -- shoving, biting, kicking, throwing sand on other kids, refusing to share a toy that's communal property, taking toys from other kids, cutting the line for the slide.

Rule #3) Don't change a diaper on a picnic table. Do it on the ground or on the bench. How would you like it if I put my kids dump on your table? Yeah, take that. It's just not good manners.

Rule #4) Do change a dirty diaper. No one wants to play with the "stinky ass" kid. And the poor kid can't do anything about it so it's your fault mom and dad.

Rule #5) Watching your child through the lens of your iPhone camera isn't as good as actually watching your child. You're not going to frame a photo of your kid doing anything at the playground, so just enjoy the time with them. 

Rule #6) I applaud the working parent who tries to also squeeze in playtime at the park, but please do not do a conference call on speaker phone. I really don't care about your job.

Rule #7) Don't let your kid pee at the playground. I realize that you might be potty training or your kid might be in desperate need to pee, but LEAVE the playground. The sandbox is not a bathroom.

Rule #8) Don't let your kids run up a slide when there are other kids trying to come down. This seems trivial, but is highly annoying.

Rule #9) A playground isn't the cure for the common cold. If your kid is sneezing, coughing, has a faucet of a runny nose or worse - pink eye - KEEP THE KID AT HOME!

Rule #10) Don't judge other parents. To the woman who told me I should have taken my daughter home because I didn't dress her properly....I hate you. To the woman who took a toy from my son because she thought he was too young to play with it....Don't ever come near my kid again. To the two moms with brand new BOBs who stared at me while I pushed my stroller..don't hate on my City Mini. To the women who clearly were horrified by my no make-up and sweats....see you again tomorrow!

Stars. They are just like Us.

If you read US Weekly, you have seen the "What's in her bag" 1-pager featuring various celebrities. It's the profile where the mag asks a celeb to empty the contents of her purse and give a little lowdown on the products. I find this piece both bizarre and fascinating.  I mean, really? We need to know what's in her purse? We already know who she dates, sleeps with, what she eats, where she shops, where she lives, where she vacations...and now we need to know what's in her bag? The answer to that is yes, apparently.

Well, I call bullshit on all the lip gloss, hair brushes, lotions and potions that celeb moms claim to keep in their bags. And let's be real. No mom of young children carries a purse. We all carry bags the equivalent in size to what we would have packed pre-baby for a long weekend away. Yes, mom = luggage size purse. And new moms, don't fall prey to the cool/hip looking diaper bag. It's too small. Trust me. If you want to actually be able to carry with you all the basics and troubleshooting tools on the market, you need more than a diaper bag. You need a weekend bag.

Now what, you may ask, is in the average mom's bag? Well...as far as I can tell, here's "What's in her bag":

• Goldfish. Both in a small ziploc and also crushed into an orange powder lining the bottom on the bag. You can only remove the remnants by fully emptying your bag and shaking it out Something you will never do, so stop being bothered by it.
• Pacifiers. For a first child, stored in a sanitized pod. For a second child, it's just loosely tossed in the bag.
• Baby wipes for diaper changes and wiping off puke (both from you and whatever public surface you child boots on while you're running errands).
• Boogie Wipes for runny noses.
• Hand sanitizer for after your child jerks his/her head and you miss their boogies with the wipe and end up just using your hand.
• Excedrin because you need the boost of caffeine and to manage the dull headache that has lingered ever since leaving the hospital post-birth.
• Diapers. And if you ever run out of them while on the go, remember this. Moms and diapers are like smokers and cigarettes. Just as it's smokers etiquette to always give a stranger a smoke when they kindly ask for one, it's mom code to hand over a diaper to a mother in need.
• Sippy cup. A leaking sippy cup. They all leak. Don't be fooled..
• Gum. Like goldfish, the gum is all over the inside of your bag. It's fallen from the package and you just hope that it's not soggy from the leaking sippy cup.
• Wallet. Not a good, pretty wallet. But a beat up, receipts from doctor's appointments, no coins because your kids throw them in fountains, crumpled up bills because your kids make a game of emptying your wallet contents regularly, kind of wallet.
• Poop bags. Like dog owners, as parents you also need to carry these for polite disposal of dumps.
• Candy. Because the number one successful rule of parenting is BRIBERY.
• Phone. A must carry item, not in case of an emergency, but because you only catch up with friends on Facebook, you need to time breastfeeding sessions (yes, you read that correctly), and for an older child you need some mechanism for getting them to sit still after the sugar high of the candy bribe wears off.
• Change of clothes. You will - mark my words - one day pick up your smiley sweet baby from a car seat nap and find that even while seated, they managed to shoot poop straight up his/her back. It's really quite an achievement. Really. I mean, how do that do that?!
• Hooter hider. As you no longer go to the bathroom by yourself once you become a mom, this gives you at least a small amount of privacy. I know... I'm grasping at this one.
• Breast pads. Oh yeah. I saved the sexiest one for last. Nothing says "new mom" like a wet stain around your breast because you forgot the pad and leaked through your clothes. Yes. This is real. And it's happened to me. And I didn't know until I got home and realized I had sat through an entire group dinner with one wet boob. You're welcome.

I could actually add to this list, but now all I'm thinking about are the number of things I need to restock to get ready for tomorrow. Or...while the bag is only half full, I'm thinking about dumping out the goldfish.