Triangle Mamas

Do you have a Will?

By Ilina

Forget the whole shebang about seeing a man about a horse. You need to saddle up and go see a woman about a will. Do you have a will? You know, that legal document that bequeaths all your assets when you die. That thing you should have done, signed, copied, and put in the safe deposit box nine years ago. No will yet? Really? So much for the whole sound mind bit.

 

Let me drag out my soapbox for a moment. Pardon me while I slip off these heels so I can climb up.

 

Trust me. You're going to want to hear this rant.

 

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Finish reading Ilina's rant and other fabulous posts at her blog Dirt & Noise. When Ilina's not ranting on her blog, she's serving up mini rants and other humorous witticisms on Twitter.

Glass Houses and Logs in Your Eyes

Last week, the boys and I headed to North Hills to get our stroller fixed and buy me some new sunglasses so I could be guaranteed to find my old ones (which I did the very next day). It was lunch time, so we headed over to Chik-fil-a, but stopped by the commons to play for a minute first.

There is always something going on there in the mornings for kiddos. That day, they had tents set up for shade and play mats out for tumbling. Christopher took his shoes off and started to play.

Another mom was standing near me. She had twin girls that looked to be about two. Maybe a little younger. The girls were busy busy, getting water in cups from the cooler that Starbucks provided and dumping it out onto the mats. Every time the mom would wrangle one of the girls and get her to stop, the other one had started doing it. She was trying her best, but they were playing her.

I had my hands full with my two boys, but tried to give her an understanding smile as she ran circles trying to corral the twins. A third mom sat on the ground, watching her phone mostly. She looked at the twins' mother and said, "Can you clean that up please? Someone is going to slip."

She had a point. Water on the mats was kind of dangerous, but rather than just telling her, couldn't she have helped her?

I blew it off because it didn't seem to bother the twins' mom. She went into Starbucks (having to leave the twins to get more water while she wasn't watching) and got some napkins to pacify the bossy mom.

Meanwhile, an older boy had started chasing Christopher. Even though they were the same height, it was obvious that the boy was a good two years older than Christopher. As soon as he would catch up to Christopher, he would spit on him.

Mama wasn't happy.

I watched for a second to see what my little boy would do. He turned to the older boy and said, "Please stop."

Just like that. Please stop, politely. Of course, when the older boy didn't stop and just pursued him more aggressively, the polite voice that Christopher had turned into screaming pretty quickly.

I headed over to get him away from the older boy and finally figured out which one was his mom. She had turned to see who was screaming at her son.

Bossy mom. That's right. Little Miss Clean-up-that-mess was too busy bossing around other moms to notice that her son was bullying a two year old.

Nice.

My passive aggressive kicked in as we stood next to her to put Christopher's shoes back on. I praised him loud enough for her to hear. I praised him for asking the boy nicely to "please stop" and told him that sometimes kids didn't listen or play nicely. Then I told him he could always come to me for help if that happened again.

I doubt she took any notice of any of that though, because she most likely was already back to patrolling the other, less perfect than herself, mothers.

Crossposted from Don't Take the Repeats where you can find Marty pontificating about life with a high schooler and two preschoolers. You can find her in less words on Twitter or just go ahead and friend her on Facebook.

Call Me for a Good Time

by Melissa

Forget bar hopping, karaoke night or $1 shooters.

After spending a Saturday night wandering around Babies R Us half-comatose, I came to the sad, sad realization that my version of "going out" has morphed just a WEE bit.

These days, good times mean I get to go somewhere - ALONE. It means I don't have to pack extra diapers, keep my three year old from leaping around the car while I try to strap him in the car seat, load the baby in the carrier, remember the diaper bag, FOR GOD'S SAKE KID SIT DOWN, click the carrier into the base, finally get the kid strapped in... and then undo it all two minutes down the road because I had to hit the store for one freakin gallon of milk.

My current list of pathetic yet surprisingly refreshing "good times" consist of:

• Wandering aimlessly around the mall
• Driving to the credit union and back just because the kids are buckled up and immobilized (ok, kids are in this scenario but they can't move)
• Carrying my big ass coupon binder to the store and trying to score free food
• Visiting the dentist (let's just call this "pampering")
• Three words: TARGET WITHOUT KIDS

And maybe just MAYBE I'll stop at ye old Starbucks and grab a half caf. I've living large, homeys.

So if you wanna crazy good time on a Friday night, give me a call.

CONFESS! What are your "good times"?

Crosspost by Melissa. When she's not trying to sneak a free moment, she's blogging about motherhood and the great outdoors at adventuroo.com.

Kid's Summer Stock at the NC Food Bank Update

By Sue

We all know how excited I was when I was asked by the North Carolina Food Bank to be a Media Sponsor for the Kids Summer Stock Social Media Mixer and I hope you have taken the time to read about it and get excited too.

I will be attending with my whole family and I hope to see you there with yours. It will be a fabulous time to mix, mingle and show your support for the people in our community who need our help. In addition to all the warm and fuzzy feelings you will in no doubt feel for just attending, I received an update about some fabulous raffle prizes that you could end up going home with.

• An official NHL Hurricanes hockey puck signed by Cam Ward
• An "I Love Hockey" kids t-shirt signed by the entire Hurricanes team
• A 3-Night stay at Alderhorst; a beautiful mountain cabin near Boone, NC
• A whimsical wooden marble chaser by Whimsy Two
• A beautiful set of jewelry from the Treasure Trove 

Get involved! 

Share the event and experience with your friends on Twitter, Facebook, or your Blog!
 
On Twitter, use the hashtag #SummerStockSocial and on Facebook, share the Social Media Mixer Event Listing

Register Now - Space is limited!

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This is a cross post from Sue Robinson over at Motherhood and Me. You can also find her at Deep South Moms Blog and on Twitter.

Kid's Summer Stock at the NC Food Bank

*This is a cross-post from Sue's personal blog Motherhood and Me

As my son grows, I find myself looking deeper, wondering how I can change to be a better person in order to teach my son that there is good in the world.

How do you do that?

People can go their whole lives bitter, angry and full of hate. How to you even begin to teach your little wide eyed 3 year old boy about how his place in the world can be a peaceful and kind place?

You start small.

You teach him to share his toys with his friends, you teach him to say please and thank you, you teach him patience, respect and hold your breath when you see him interact with the world around him. Holding your breath in hopes that what you worked so hard to teach him is somewhere deep down inside him.

I was so excited when I decided to take this lesson of kindness and the greater good one step further. I had planned to have a food collection on behalf of the North Carolina Food Bank for his 3^rd and my daughter’s 1^st birthday in lieu of gifts. I told him all about how and why we were doing this and tried to get him excited about going to the food bank to make our donation.

He was excited and everything was set until the dark cloud hit our family and I had to cancel their birthday party. I was so sad that our excitement came to a screeching halt, but glad that I had started to plant the seed of awareness in my little man.

Then the email came.

The North Carolina Food Bank contacted me asking me if I would like to be a Media Sponsor for an event they were having to raise awareness about their facility and hunger in North Carolina. I immediately said yes and was so excited to be a part of something bigger than myself again.

II am proud to announce that Motherhood and Me is a media sponsor for the North Carolina Food Bank’s Kids Summer Stock!

The kid’s Summer Stock is an event to raise awareness about hungry kids who fall short during the school summer breaks. Kids that normally rely on two hot meals per day provided by their school’s lunch program are left on their own. Once the school year ends these kids fall through the cracks and don’t get remembered until the school session resumes in the fall.

Please take the time to come and celebrate the gift of giving at the North Carolina Food Bank Warehouse in Raleigh. Show your support by engaging with your local community and donating what you can personally, monetarily and via canned goods.

I will be there with my kids and my husband, so feel free to tap me on the shoulder and say hello!

 

Thursday, June 3, 2010

6:00 pm – 8:30 pm

Food Bank Warehouse in Raleigh

3808 Tarheel Drive
Raleigh, NC (map)

Register now for your free tickets!

Click Here

I hope to see you there!

When Sue isn't trying to change the world with kindness, she can be found at home with her two kids at Motherhood and Me.

Kids are weird

By Sue

Have you ever noticed that kids are really weird? 

Or maybe it is just MY kids.

Either way, I think they are weird and I love that. 

Take my kids for instance. My son loves to only wear his underwear around the house. Plus, when he goes over to other people's houses he obsessively takes off his shoes (thanks to me being obsessed with it as well), but then proceeds to take off his jacket AND his pants. He does this like it is second nature to him and a totally socially acceptable thing to do. When you ask him why he does this, he looks at you like you are speaking a foreign language or something. More like he is thinking, "Why aren't YOU doing it?"

My daughter thinks anything and everything is a telephone. (Maybe I talk on the phone too much!) She will pick up any inanimate object and hold it to her ear and say "Bye-Bye" over and over and over again. When you talk to her and hand her an actual telephone, she looks at you with such a scowl that you would think you had just taken away her best friend.

However, one of the weirdest things I have seen in my house was the day I walked into the family room to find my son on the floor, with no pants on, licking his feet?

"Why are you licking your feet?" I asked him nervous to hear the answer.

"I have something on my feet."

"What is it?"

"Doggy hair."

YUCK!

I was grossed out and intervened immediately but was laughing while I helped him.

I love that kids are silly, wear their emotions on their sleeve, are just - THEMSELVES.

They are themselves and make no apologies for it. I love that and that is a quality I admire.

Last night I had my friends over for pizza and playtime, but the best part about it was we put on some dance music and watch the boys boogie down to their hearts content. They had no inhibitions and just wiggled however they wanted to and loved every minute of it.

I love that kids are weird. I will be sad the day they conform and turn all normal on us.

Normal is boring, I like weird.

When Sue isn't laughing about how weird her kids are, you can find her blogging at Motherhood and Me.

Move that Bus: Why Neighborhood Schools are a good thing.

By Andrea

I'm going to share my opinion today. Something I don't often do but today I'm going there. I'm going there because I am tired of being marginalized. And I am SICK and tired of being boxed in and grouped in with stereotypical caricatures. I think that any number of people on any given day feels the way I feel, depending on the issue. But today is my day. And in the interest of full-disclosure, I am white. I am female. I am not by American standards wealthy, but I am in the wealthiest 10% of people in the world.

You may or may not know about a local decision that was made in our county. The Wake County School Board has recently decided to end diversity-based busing in favor of community schools. I am neither for OR against this decision. But if I had to lean, I would lean toward FOR. I am telling you this because I am really, SO sick and tired of being marginalized as a Segregationist or an Elitist as many are calling those who support this decision.

If you are against this decision, and that is what you REALLY believe about the opposing opinion, then I can't see how anyone will ever bring change to the table. The Wake County School System as it stands needs serious help. It NEEDS CHANGE. Now, perhaps this isn't the best way, but I think the fact that things are happening is a step in the right direction.

Right now, my home is in a low-income neighborhood. We chose this neighborhood because it was affordable and diverse. The school we are zoned for however, is in an affluent neighborhood and only about 15 minutes away. The school right around the corner will be one of the worst (in terms of poverty) in Wake County with the new plan. So you might ask, WHY then am I for the end to busing?  And I would answer, because this is my community. I want to love it. I live here and if there is a part that is hurting, I want to help fix it. Not shrug my shoulders and send my child to a school in a better neighborhood.

Many children would not be zoned for a school 15 minutes away but an hour or more. And that is NOT acceptable! Children that are riding a bus for several hours each day are NOT reaping the benefits of a better education. They likely will not be able to participate in extra-curricular activities because of the bus schedules, will have LESS time to do homework and will be getting up earlier while potentially getting less sleep than if they were able to attend a community school. The fact that they would be in a school with many different color faces and different sized pocketbooks does not seem like a good enough trade off to me.

I concede that putting an end to busing is not the end all-be all solution to the problem. But it does not a racist make. As concerned parents, we need to let our actions be the guide to what we want for our children. Are we better people by living in gated communities and opening the doors of our schools to the less fortunate while still enjoying our affluence? Or maybe, just maybe, could we disperse into the communities of need and get involved? Could we meet people and love our neighbors instead of shipping them off to be someone else's problem? If my son ends up in our neighborhood school when all is said and done, I want to love that school. Get involved and do my part. It is after all, my responsibility as his mother. If there are communities that need more help, then by all means LET US HELP THEM. To redirect the problem does not solve the brokenness. That requires personal, hands on involvement. And if you ask me, THAT is the conversation we should be having.

This is a cross-post from Andrea's blog, Lil-Kid-Things. Andrea has lived in Raleigh for 12 years and is looking at Local Politics with a new set of eyes since having a son 14 months ago. You can also find her on Twitter and Facebook.

***image via flickr commons

Why My Boobies Are Happier Breastfeeding the Second Time Around

by Melissa

If there’s one thing motherhood does, it’s give women a free pass to talk about poop, pee, va-jay-jays and boobies without even flinching. With a three year old and a one MONTH old in our house, all of these topics are discussed daily (well, maybe not va-jay-jays). However, it’s the last one that’s compelled me enough to make a blog post. And it has to do with the night and day difference in breastfeeding this time around.

For all of you moms who got the shock of your life when you discovered breastfeeding isn’t all rainbows and fairy princesses, have some hope.

Before Big Roo was born, I had this glorified, delusional image of how easy breastfeeding would be. It's natural so it must be easy, right? I confidently proclaimed to anyone who asked that I planned to breastfeed exclusively for at least six months. I wish someone would clued me in on the little secret. The reality was not so simple. After three months of stabbing knives to my boobs, endless pumping and exhaustion, I admitted defeat and switched to formula. 

Fast forward to today. I've been breastfeeding for a month now with Little Roo and it's such a drastic difference that I'm almost in shock. I've been trying to pinpoint exactly WHY this time is so much easier. After some noodling, I came up with four reasons breastfeeding the second time around is a (mostly) enjoyable experience thus far: 

I Had a Superfabulous Lactation Consultant at the Hospital 

Boobs, meet baby. Baby, meet your source for breakfast, lunch, dinner, fourthmeal and snacktimes.

But when babies are born, they don't always know exactly what to do. That's why I found the lactation consultant from the hospital to be immensely helpful in kickstarting the breastfeeding bonanza. 

When Big Roo was born, I remember looking forward to the lactation consultant coming to see me. I had just had a C-section and wasn't even sure of the best way to hold him to nurse. But the consultant was kinda harsh. She shoved Big Roo into position with matter-of-fact "look, this is all you have to do" attitude. I felt like a rag doll… but one with boobs to grab and shove into the baby's mouth. While I soon realized breastfeeding wasn't necessarily "gentle" all the time, I just felt like she was all business- come in, show me what to do, then leave. No empathy, no patience and few tips.

The lactation consultant this time around rocked. She was full of information, tips and most of all, patience. She came to see me when Little Roo was a mere four hours old and stayed with us for almost an hour. She showed me what to do, then let me try for myself as she popped out tip after tip. I watched Little Roo as he tried to latch on. He was making the right moves but struggling to actually latch and suck. 

Just when I was starting to get worried that he wasn't "getting it," she assured me that he was doing great for being a few hours old. She pointed out the things he was doing right which eased my mind. When he finally latched, she pointed out how his body was perfectly aligned to mine, how his mouth was positioned right and all the other things to look for next time I nursed him sans her help. The consultant also showed me what to look for when he was doing it wrong (which definitely happened). 

When she left, I really felt like I could do this! For reassurance, I had her come back twice over the next couple of days to ask questions and have her check Little Roo's latch and positioning while I was nursing. It was just the confidence boost I needed.

Although I haven't needed it yet, I won't hesitate to call a lactation consultant if I have any issues. It's OKAY to ask for help. If you don't feel comfortable with the consultant you have, then find another one pronto! This is your starting point for months or even years of breastfeeding so there's no mediocrity allowed.

I Know What to Do With My Magic Lady Body

Okay, so I can't take credit for that fabulous terminology (after you finish this article, go read this one called "Moms Gone Wired." This girl's writing will knock your socks off.)  But three years ago, when I was a first-time mom learning to breastfeed, I didn't really know what to do. I devoutly read the week-by-week development articles and took a four-week childbirth class. However, I naively thought that breastfeeding would just happen naturally so I didn't put any effort into "learning" how to breastfeed.

Imagine my shock when Big Roo was five days old and I woke up with a sore, hot boob and a temperature of 102 degrees! Helloooo mastitis! Of course, I didn't know what mastitis even was until I placed a call to the doctor. But holy crap, that was the worst part of my entire postpartum experiene. 

After that healed, I still had sore, cracked nipples nearly all the time. My boobs leaked like Niagara Falls. And once I broke down in tears when blood made its way into my my pumped breastmilk. While I didn't quite give up (yet), I unintentionally went into masochist mode. I didn't really know nearly all my problems were due to a bad latch. I assumed the stabbing knifes I felt every time I breastfed were part of toughening those puppies up! I also made things worse when my boobs got engorged because I didn't want to nurse him at that point. Oh the pain I put myself through.

This time around, there's still some soreness and the occasional cracked nipple but now that I know what to look for, I've been able to curb many of the issues before they even start. I know to pump if I get too engorged for Little Roo to latch. If I notice hard spots, I know to massage them out while nursing so I don't get clogged ducts. I know to make Little Roo re-latch if he's sucking wrong even if it ticks him off. 

In addition to physically knowing what to do, I'm also more mentally prepared. I accept- no, embrace- the fact that my body is a machine. In all honesty, it goes to show what a miracle our bodies are… but I didn't see it like that last time. It seems that now I don't mind the "work" that comes with breastfeeding as much. I know the middle of the night feedings, sore nipples, limited caffeine intake, etc won't last forever. I'll be able to laugh it off if I leak in public instead of freak out. I'm enjoying the bonding time instead of wondering where the hell the body from my past life ran off to.

I Bought and Borrowed the Right Supplies

While our mothers may scoff ("we didn't have all that stuff when *I* breastfed years ago. I also walked 10 miles in the snow to school."), I found that breastfeeding is tons easier when you've got the right supplies. Last time, I had a few of current-day must-haves - a Boppy, a breastpump (if you plan to bottle feed), nursing pads and nursing bras. This time, I went a step further. Nursing shirts (especially tank tops) put my boobies in easy reach… ideal when you have a shrieking baby doing his best impression of a desperately hungry baby bird. 

A close friend gave me a really cute nursing cover too. It's already come in handy a few times while out in public. I also purchased a hands-free pumping bra-- it looks hilarious when it's on but it keeps those suckers in place so I can be the multitasking queen that I am. And I don't even know if the hydrogel pads existing three years ago but what a freaking relief those are for soreness. 

While none of these are NECESSARY, they sure make this breastfeeding life a helluva lot easier.

I Released Myself from the Self-Induced Quarantine

For some reason, last go around I was a glutton for punishment. Breastfeeding meant holing myself up in my house. I always fed Big Roo from a bottle when in public. At home, I nursed him behind closed doors when friends or family were there instead of using a nursing cover and enjoying the company. When I pumped milk, I'd quarantine myself to the glider in Big Roo's room… away from Daddy Roo, the TV or anything remotely stimulating. 

Due to the pain and uncertainty of my ability to breastfeed, I didn't feel comfortable enough to just go with it. It made me frustrated. I got sick of being a slave to the boobs.

But this time, I realize I don't need to camp out behind a closed door to breastfeed. If he needs to eat while I'm out, I carry my nursing cover. I pump in the living room in front of the TV or while chatting with the hubs. I nurse in front of friends during playdates instead of hide out in my room. I'm more comfortable being a mommy (had three years of practice, right?) and I'm more comfortable breastfeeding.

Bonus! My iPhone

Yep, my iPhone is one of the things that makes breastfeeding easier. How exactly? Well, first I downloaded this free app called BabyBix to track my breastfeeding. I simply hit a button that says "Left Side" and it starts tracking Little Roo's feeding. It's magic! At night, I don't have to flubber around in the dark for a pen and paper to track his feedings. While I may not always need to write this stuff down, in these early days I can hardly remember which side I started feeding him on just a few hours before. 

Oh, I can even track how many ounces I pump a day. The BabyBix app also comes in handy when I'm off running an errand. When did I feed him last? Just check the app and I know about how much time's left ticking before I need to feed.

The other thing I love about my iPhone is keeping myself busy during the nighttime feedings. I try to be all business with Little Roo at our night feedings so he quickly goes back to sleep. So while I feed him in the dark of night, I check Facebook, play Words with Friends, read the latest news and browse Twitter.

So, I'm only a few weeks into my breastfeeding experience round deux. So far, it's happy boobies= happy baby= blissfully happy mama. And maybe a rainbow too.

What's your best breastfeeding tip? Was there anything that was different the second time around? Or that you learned from your first child?

Original post by Melissa, breastfeeding ninja. When she's not breastfeeding or chasing a three year old around, she's blogging about motherhood and the great outdoors at adventuroo.com.

Save Project Enlightenment: It Saved My Family

By Ilina

As a parent, we are often reticent to ask for help when we need it. For a mother, that reticence is exponentially amplified because we all struggle to reach the pinnacle of perfection. We too often view motherhood as a destination and forget that it's a journey. With potholes, detours, red lights, construction zones, and speed traps. There's just never a finish line.
And as a culture, that help is hard to find. Wake County offers an amazing FREE service to parents of preschool age children. Free support, counseling, education, resources, and an awesome library. Project Enlightenment. Read on to see how it saved my family. (Cross posted at Dirt & Noise.)

I posted this to Facebook this morning when I read about the drastic cuts proposed for Project Enlightenment:

"My family was in crisis when our son was 3. Not medical or financial crisis. Behavioral crisis. It is no hyperbole that we would not be who and where we are today without Project Enlightenment's support and care. Without those counselors and programs, our son would not be thriving in first grade now. The impact of that experience fixed what was a potential shattered relationship with my son at that tender young age. I'm emotional even harkening back to that time. These programs are not just for those people whose paths you don't cross. "Those people." These programs are for ALL of us. And they work."

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My fingers quiver on the keyboard as I conjure up the memories of when Bird was 3. He had violent raging temper tantrums. I'm not talking the I-Want-Candy variety. He'd overturn furniture and fling books out of his bookcase in a head spinning rage. He would yell like a banshee and writhe in fits of fury. 15 minutes would pass. Then 30. 40. Most rages lasted 45 minutes to an hour. Full on screaming, flailing, kicking, hitting. Deal was an infant then, cradled snugly in my arms for fear he'd be in the path of Bird's destruction.

Destruction.

Not just his room and his belongings. Our family. Our relationship.

I sat in tears, quaking with stress, worry, fear, resentment. I never knew what would tip the scale to make Bird fly into a tantrum. I tiptoed and spent every waking moment anxiously awaiting the rage to begin. He saved it all up for me. Bird didn't demonstrate this behavior at school. Whatever he corked up at school came gushing out at me. He spewed all his emotional venom and bile upon me. We spent many hours huddled in his room sobbing. Feeling helpless. Alone. Defeated. Guilty. And just terribly sad.

All while tending to an infant.

I was alone. No family support. A husband at a new job.

Bird's tantrums were escalating. It was as if he were possessed. Seriously out of control and a danger to himself. I began to resent this behavior. To resent my own son. Do you know how that feels? I feel ashamed admitting it now. My heads hangs, by whole being awash of guilt. I defied all truths of motherhood; suddenly I was rewriting what unconditional looked like. I loved Bird, of course, but I didn't want to be around him. I didn't want to cater to him and fear him. I wanted to instead protect the sweet baby Deal who was innocent and vulnerable. And yes, easy. Easy to love. Easy to care for. Easy to adore. Then I was swept with such guilt for feeling so that I mentally collapsed.

Once, just once, I slapped my son.

In the midst of one particularly violent rage I slapped Bird across the cheek thinking I could get him to snap out of it. It didn't work. He didn't even take note of my hot hand on his wet cheek. I still feel the sensation of my sweaty shaking palm making contact with his tear streamed soft skin. His face. I literally shake my hand to get rid of the sensation as if it were an EtchASketch. My eyes well with tears and a coal-like lump rises in my throat as I write this. I've never said this before. I never talked about what hell it really was. For all of us.

But that afternoon I called Mac Daddy. I told him I couldn't do it anymore. I wasn't fit to be a mother. I was overwhelmed and under supported. In retrospect I am most certain I suffered remnants of undiagnosed and untended-to post partum depression. I was the camel, and my slapping palm was the straw.

We called Project Enlightenment.

Our counselor saved us. Saved me. Saved our son. Saved our relationship. Without the skills and insights and therapy we received....

I'm afraid to even think what might have been.

Project Enlightenment gave us specific tools, words, exercises to manage Bird's tantrums. We learned how to handle anger, fear, anxiety, in him and in ourselves. We learned how the parenting we were a product of made us the parents we were becoming. We learned how to repair what was shattered. Just yesterday I opened my Project Enlightenment file to get a quick refresher on how to teach empathy to my sons.

That file has sat atop my desk for almost four years. Its contents are dog eared and highlighted. Those resources have given me my son back. Project Enlightenment served a need, a desperate need, that no doctor or grandparent or teacher could have filled. Or fixed.

If our counselor at Project Enlightenment hadn't helped us, my resentment toward Bird would have surely escalated. I know this much is true. I find myself still battling it at the times he's particularly difficult or defiant now. My brain takes me back to those fits when he was three, and I think, "Haven't we been through this? Haven't I paid my parenting dues?" But now I know how to change. Now I know what resonates with him. Now I know. The self loathing I have from that time still haunts me. There are times I want to rewind, words I want to retract, steps I want to retrace.

Project Enlightenment, while unable to magically erase or rewrite the past, has enabled us to walk into a shinier future. Hand in hand.

Bird is now a thriving first grader. He has no behavioral or medical or psychological issues. Well, he does pick on his little brother and talks too much in class, but that's all normal, right? My Bird is bright, curious, eager, and awfully funny. He knows he is loved and adored. I still call him my first baby when I kiss him good night. We exchange Eskimo kisses, butterfly kisses, and lip kisses. Then he blows me a kiss from his bed, and I pretend to catch it and put it on my cheek. This is our ritual.

And we have Project Enlightenment to thank.

Join the Facebook Group here.
Send an email to the school board. You'll find their contact information here.
Write to the paper.

Raise your voices, people. Cutting funding for early childhood development and education will prove to be disastrous, and expensive. Our children are an investment, not an expense.

Margaritas

By Sue

I had the pleasure of grabbing margaritas with some girlfriends the other night and the topics of discussion were about the same as they always are when we get together.

We catch up, tell each other about what recent events may be going on in our lives and with our families. We talk about our kids, compare stories and ask for advice. We then move on to current events and things of that nature, but the conversation always rounds it’s way over to husbands.

This evening the common theme to the husband topic was equality. Each and everyone of us discussed how we felt care giving equality fell short.

Now don’t get me wrong, don’t get the idea that we get together to bash our husbands. I was just surprised at how each one of us were bothered or annoyed by the same exact things.

Our husbands range in age, height, weight, race, educational background, you name it, but it was surprising to me that all of our stories sounded identical.

Each one of us felt like we were left to carry the weight of care giving. Working mom or stay at home mom, the complaints were the same.

Examples:

"I take care of the kids all day and all week by myself, but when he does it for a couple of hours, I feel like he is acting like he deserves a medal!"

"I love when he wants to spend time with the kids and let me relax, but coming home to a house that has exploded and having to be the one to clean it up is not my idea of relaxing. Why can’t he take care of the kids and pick up after himself at the same time. I am not asking him to clean the whole house, just pick up after lunch, block time, etc."

"I work too, but how come the majority of the house and child care falls on me?"

Sound familiar?

This left me thinking, are we asking for too much or not giving our husbands the benefit of the doubt? Not exactly, but I do think we can cut them some slack. This, especially for me, is easier said than done.

I think we need to realize that the majority of care giving falls into our laps because we (as stay at home moms at least) do it 99.9% of the time already. It comes easily to us and we are used to doing it. When we ask them or they want to do a majority of the tasks we do on a daily basis, it isn’t going to come as easily to them, mainly because they don’t have that much practice time.

I see this in my house a lot. It is a piece of cake for me to wrangle the kids, make dinner, clean up the playroom, fold laundry, and talk on the phone at the same time because that is what I do all day everyday. I am trying to learn to cut my husband some slack when it comes to multitasking at this magnitude.

The only time I have a problem is when a time comes that requires him to do everything, it leaves him stressed, resentful and ill-equipped.

This conversation with my girlfriends stayed with me, because I think this is an argument that will never be resolved. It will never be equal, or at least it will never feel equal.

Our husbands most likely feel the same way as we do. Do we understand what it feels like to have the stress of the family’s financial wellbeing fall solely onto us? (Now, I am not a working mom, so I can only tell my side of the story. Working moms, chime in and give me your side!) I know I think I do, but in reality I don’t.

I believe it all comes down to balance and I am finding that balance is not so easily accomplished. I personally find it difficult to find balance between being a mother, a wife, a friend and then squeezing in time for just me.

Balance is what we all strive for, because when we are balanced we feel that things run smoothly, our lives are less stressful and we are in a mindset to really enjoy those around us.

One of my many goals for 2010 is to take steps towards feeling and being more balanced.

What do you think?

Will this argument ever be resolved?

We will ever really be equal?

What is it like for all the working moms out there that have to balance even more than I do?

When Sue isn’t trying to balance her kids and the rest of her life, she can be found blogging at Motherhood and Me  or chatting away on Twitter.