Chicago Moms Blog

Silicon Valley Moms Group Acquired By Technorati Media

2010-11-15T16:50:48-08:00

Reports of our demise, as the saying goes, were premature. The Silicon Valley Moms Group of sister sites is taking up residence in a new location. Look for that great timely, opinionated, poignant, and sometimes just plain funny parenting content you're used to seeing on this site over at The Women's Channel at Technorati. After 6 great years of blogging here, we've moved to a new home.

Fondly,

Jill Asher, Beth Blecherman & Tekla Nee

Co-Founders, Silicon Valley Moms Group

My Bachelor

2010-07-01T10:32:09-07:00

"Oh come on, look at this, this is not right".

Looking up I was horrified to see what had happened, Jack and his remote control finger flick habit had stumbled onto the Bachelorette. You look away for just one moment and worlds collide.

"Fiction. Not possible, where did they find all these guys so eager to be married?".

Agreed, in Jack's world there were no shortage of guys happily spending their days in a blissful bachelorhood stupor. Happy hours, drunken barbecues at Don's, last minute trips to New Orleans, his two day per weekend golf habit, combined with the two soon to be divorced dudes bunking on his couch, all compelling reasons to not find yourself as a contestant on the Bachelorette. That each one of his former bachelor loving friends is now married with kids, including my bachelor, was not given consideration.

He was now engaged in true train wreck form, paralyzed from the waist up, unable to move away from the disaster unfolding before him. Oh please, let him doze off, please let him miss this, "Scrapbook is not a verb!", yelled the man unable to properly use a glue stick, "this guy made a scrapbook?".

Jack on the Bachelorette? On principle he would have not offered his jacket to the chilly bride hopeful, refusing to dance the same dance as all the others, and would have suggested, quite likely, that she find something suitable to cover up with, while thinking that either she, or the wardrobe people were not bright enough to remember to pack a sweater. There would be no scrapbook, nor ramblings on love or soul mates, and certainly not a poem. He would not mention his family, or his never ending love for his mother, he would not hypothesize as to the perfect wife nor speculate as to the number of children he hoped would someday bear his name. He would not expound upon his dreamy childhood and the amazing bond that has kept his parents together for forty years. He would not reveal the origin of his tragic nickname, if he had one. In short, he would be a terrible candidate, not at all considered genuine husband material when evaluated on these terms and in the end, sent packing, sans rose.

Worked out well for me, and I always know to bring my own cardigan.

This is an original Chicago Moms Post. Ally also writes northsidefour.blogspot.com and contributes to Chicago Now.

Half Day, No Way; Kindergarten Grows Up

2010-06-30T09:47:37-07:00

One year ago when I was hunting for a half day kindergarten program there were none to be found. Having the youngest possible kindergartners to be, ones who had never been to preschool, I worried that a full day at school was going to be too much, too soon. Full day was pushing, making kindergarten more than I thought it was intended to be. Every school we considered was full day, and the experts told me I would regret doing anything less.

They were right. Six hours allowed for reading and writing, math and science, but also music and art, multi cultural studies, P.E. and thankfully, library. Once a week they had drama, there were field trips to the theatre, an edible garden and Chinatown, all of which would be eliminated in a half day class. Kindergarten would become an abbreviated period of basic learning without the enrichment available in a full day.

For some children the negative effect of a half day could be minimized, hours away from school still challenging and educational, but for others the reduction in school time could mean an increase in television time, parents who work two or three jobs left scrambling to find adequate child care in the off hours when their six year old was not welcome at school. In a school district where 86% of families are classified as low income, full day kindergarten helps to level the playing field, allowing everyone to step into first grade assuming a similar base of preparedness. Eliminating these valuable hours only widens the gap, when education should be helping it to close.

It appears the school district now agrees. CPS announced yesterday that they will fund full day kindergarten next year, and reduce elementary class size to 33, rather than the proposed 37. Parents have worked hard to make this happen, we certainly appreciate the district listening.

This is an original Chicago Mom's post. Ally also writes northsidefour.blogspot.com and contributes to Chicago Now.

Morton Grove Farmer's Market for Food and Fun

2010-06-29T10:00:00-07:00

When my husband lost his job last fall in the fall of 2008, he had a vague vision of becoming an organic farmer. I envisioned a new reality show on TLC based on his idea, "Little Jews on the Prairie." Alas we didn't get the show. Okay, we never even tried. His vision was outrageously impractical on so many levels, I could devote an entire blog to it.

But he did manage to get a little closer to the land while helping our community do the same. He helped found a Farmer's Market in north suburban Morton Grove. Working alongside a crack a committee of volunteers, he helped, helps, bring farm-fresh produce to our town every Saturday.

The market opened Memorial Day weekend and, rain aside, it's been great.

The market is as much about community as it is about food. With hundreds of village residents and those from nearby towns stopping in each week, it's a place to meet and greet, to gather with friends and neighbors.

At the market we not only pick up fresh veggies, but we run into family friends, my children's classmates, and even some of my former classmates (who have aged enough that I can call them old classmates). And beyond our seasonal picks, we enjoy fresh donuts from a local bakery, delicious chocolate covered frozen bananas, and other locally produced goodies.

The kind folks at Chicago-based Radio Flyer donated more than a dozen wagons to the market, allowing parents to wheel their kiddos around in style as music from local talent wafts in the background- two more perks, that makes it especially pleasant and family-friendly.

It's been an interesting journey so far. Certainly there have been a few bumps in the road from farm to market, but I think it's a tremendous success.

What are you doing this Saturday morning? Come join me at the Morton Grove Farmer's Market!

Original post to Chicago Moms Blog.

Kim Moldofsky is a managing editor at the soon-to-launch TheChicagoMoms. She writes about food with a Chicago angle at Scrambled CAKE, and muses about other topics at Hormone-Colored Days. Kim connects brands and bloggers for conversations, events and reviews at MomImpact.

Books For Everyone

2010-06-24T05:00:00-07:00

Reading makes me a better writer. Reading reinforces proper grammar, increases my vocabulary and makes me a much more interesting dinner party guest. Reading challenges me and makes my bag very heavy.

Not everyone agrees. Schools are closing libraries en lieu of media centers, or because there is no funding for books, or a librarian. We've spent the past year recreating our school library: painting the walls, ordering books, tearing up carpet, cataloging our collection and welcoming back the students who were turned away years ago when the library closed.

Some believe that funds could be better spent elsewhere, or that students who want to read can use the public library, or chose from books they have at home. The reality is that an urban school with a 60% low income population may not be drawing families who have personal libraries, or the time to spend at the public library. Children who spend afternoons at after school programs and don't arrive home until after 6:00 have little time to stop off at the library for a weeks worth of books. Providing access to quality reading material at a place where they spend six hours a day is vital to creating readers, a habit that will keep them learning for the rest of their lives.

Yesterday as I stepped on to the playground I was grabbed by a second grade girl, shrieking, "Ms. Ally! I don't want the library to end!". It's not going to end, we'll be back next year, and the year after that. Books are important, and I appreciate the reminder, everyday.

This is an original Chicago Moms Post. Ally also writes northsidefour.blogspot.com and contributes to Chicago Now.

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok: A SV Moms Group Book Club

2010-06-23T01:00:00-07:00

Transplanted from Hong Kong to New York City as a (very poor) young girl with her mother, Ah-Kim or Kimberley, struggled to make things better for her family, to learn English, to walk the line between traditional Chinese duties and the Americanized teenager she grew into. Join us today as we discuss the book Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok.

Here are what the SV Moms Group contributors ave to say today, all inspired by the book Girl in Translation:

Marinka from Motherhood in NYC tells her immigration story in America, Baby
Pamela from 2 Much Testosterone felt empowered
Emily from Mama Sick has hope for her son
Sharon from Channeling Ricky recognizes her own childhood embarrassment
Vanessa from Chefdruck Musings goes for a taste of America
April from It's All About Balance is a girl in gratitude
Emily Paster from West of the Loop examines secrets below the surface
Melanie from tales from the crib just wanted to fit in
Elena from Cara Mamma reflects on dreaming big
Lisa H. from Hannemaniacs has aunts just like Aunt Paula
Alma from Marketing Mommy had culture shock
Kristine from Mommy Needs Therapy or a Bottle of Wine was moved by the reality of immigrants who come to the U.S. for a "better" life
Rox from Rox and Roll has thoughts about honor
Julie from Just Precious opens her eyes in her own neighborhood
Jen B from Anybody Want A Peanut? tries to translate autism

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

Past SV Moms Group Book Clubs have included:

I am Nujood, Aged 10 and Divorced by Nujood Ali
The Body Scoop for Girls by Dr. Jennifer Ashton
Just Let Me Lie Down by Kristin van Ogtrop, Editor of REAL SIMPLE magazine
National Geographic's Green Guide Families by Catherine Zandonella
Top 100 Finger Foods and Top 100 Baby Purees by Annabel Karmel
The Possibility of Everything by Hope Edelman
The Mominatrix's Guide to Sex by Kristen Chase
Coco Chanel & Igr Stravinsky by Chris Greenhalgh
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 SV Moms Group Book Club.

Leaving the Garden

2010-06-22T05:00:00-07:00

My vision of the last day of school was much like my vision of the first: excited children, crying and unstable mother, happy teacher and a wonderful sense of accomplishment. Things are not always as I envision, Kate having spent the past two days on the sofa full of fever and ilk. Her last day of kindergarten was Monday, thankfully the day they "stepped up" to first grade. What she will remember is the incredible year where she learned to go to school, and not the dismal ending, which must be the silver lining to a truly dreary and unceremonious finale.

Mary bounded out the door today with her father, full of school day eagerness, clearly not really understanding that this was the last day that they would walk to the corner, find a taxi and make the short trip to school. The idea that tomorrow would be lazy and unhurried, without the dash out the door that we have perfected over nine months, was lost on her.

I've missed them, my two always companions. It's time for picnics and beaches, a break from the routine that took so long to establish. Of course I realize now that I will miss this new order, days spent writing, without the constant humm of children. My afternoon sprint to the school, waiting for the final bell with new friends, wonderful moms who I have spent the past year getting to know; certainly tomorrow afternoon some internal bell will sound and for just a moment I'll panic that I am late to retrieve the kindergartners.

Kate was fever free and ready to say good-bye to her friends by afternoon; we were in the classroom when the final bell sounded and the former kindergartners made their final race to the playground door. Excited children, crying mother, happy teacher and a great sense of accomplishment, just as I suspected it might be. Thank you for a wonderful year, it's been the perfect beginning to a lifetime of learning.

This is an original Chicago Moms post. Ally also writes northsidefour.blogspot.com and contributes to Chicago Now.

PTOs Don't Scare Me Anymore

2010-06-18T15:00:00-07:00

Almost four years ago, I walked into my very first PTO meeting, not knowing anyone - having been at the preschool for a day - and feeling really confused. I walked out not really sure of what had been accomplished in the meeting and still not really knowing many people, wondering if the PTO was a clique that I accidentally stumbled upon.

I've heard the same thing from many people I know. They don't get involved in the PTO at their school because it's all a clique that runs it. I have to admit that four years later, I have a very different perspective.

I didn't attend every PTO meeting that first year, partly because they had a bad habit of announcing the dates of the meetings the day before they occurred. I did go when I could, and I offered opinions - because I tend to have a lot. I slowly realized that it wasn't a clique. It just happened to be the same people who showed up each time for the meetings. And for the activities, they only reached out to the same people, partly because they knew them and partly because they didn't know how to go after the remainder of the community.

Lucky me, I ended up volunteering myself to help host a new activity the next year. If I suggest it, I had an obligation to at least help out, I felt, and they were extremely grateful for the help. Huh.

That spring, I was leaned on to be president. As a working mom, there's no way I could be president. I had too much to do already. No one else stepped up though, and after three weeks of begging, I finally agreed to take it on.

I haven't regretted it at all since that day. Yes, I am a working mom. But you know what? The activities at a PTO are designed for moms with limited amounts of time. They aren't meant to be full time jobs, and especially at our school, we take shortcuts where necessary and skip activities that get too cumbersome.

I was surprised by how many things I could do from home. Ink toner recycling? Well, I drive by the office supply store, how hard can it be to drop off toner once a week or once a month? I actually just finished cutting up the last of our Labels for Education to submit tomorrow while watching tv after the wee ones went to bed. I've arranged for performers at the school entirely via email. And our fundraisers? Yeah... the vendors know moms are short on time, too. It's amazing how many tricks they have up their sleeves to make things easier for us.

Where the first meetings involved a group of four people (not including me) who did everything for the school, our focus for the past two years has been on expanding the group of people who did something for the PTO. We emphasized what can be done from home for those parents who aren't able to be in the school. We asked for just an hour of time at an activity to help out - from the book fair to our fall festival to our children's museum and more. And we made sure to thank each of them personally.

I was shocked by the response. Where we were looking for two volunteers to fill an hour long slot, we ended up with four or five (and we used them). We found things that were interesting for them, that required different types of talens, and they responded. The more hands we had, the less work it became, and the more fun it was - not to mention the friendships that we made. No longer is one person doing nine jobs on the PTO - thankfully!

It was never a clique. In going back and talking to the former PTO members, they love what we've done. And they admit that they just didn't know who was out there. By asking, we found out. And this year? Our previous four member PTO board? We have thirteen people who have stepped up. It's a huge change, and no one has to do too much where they feel burned out.

I've talked to a few people who felt like they just didn't know enough about the school or didn't have enough experience to jump in. We're only at our school for a couple years at most, since it's a preschool. No one has experience. And that's ok. It's all about making things your own.

Not all PTOs are great about knowing how to recruit new people or making new people feel welcome. Could we have done better? Absolutely, but we tried, and we're showing results. Getting across the message that coming in for a single hour of volunteering doesn't mean you're obligated to chair an event next has brought in a lot of poeple who were afraid before. But there's no reason to - say no if it gets to be too much or if it isn't the right kind of volunteering.

Today, I attended my last official PTO meeting. I handed binders over to new members. And I'm really going to miss it. I'm getting involved in the elementary school PTO next year, but obviously it's all new. I'm going into it now knowing it isn't a clique but a group of like-minded people all working toward the same goal. Had I walked out of that first PTO meeting in the fall of 2006 and decided I was going with my first impression that these four people knew each other and didn't need or want anyone else butting in, I would have missed out on a wealth of experiences and so many friendships.

So have you found out what your PTO needs next year? I'm sure there's a position just right for you.

This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post. Michelle only has a newsletter to put out and an end of year picnic to plan before she officially hands over her reigns to her new co-presidents. Once she does so, she'll likely have even more time to write at Honest & Truly! and Honest and Truly Reviews as well as hang out on Twitter.

Congratulations Graduate?

2010-06-18T12:41:39-07:00

I am officially the parent of a kindergarten graduate. At the graduation ceremony, several of the moms were there with Kleenex in hand, already breaking down in tears before the ceremony even started.

Wait. Back up. What?

Yep, the moms were in tears before the kindergarten graduation ceremony even started. And wait, I have a kindergarten graduate? Call, me Scrooge, but really... is this worthy of tears? What are you going to do when they graduate from high school? What will you do when they get married? In my mind, I have a kid who finished just one of many years of schooling.

The same goes for my daughter, the preschool graduate – with diploma, slideshow, parents with presents and flowers for many of the graduates and all.

In fact, my oldest child is six years old, and I’ve already attended four graduations for them, combined (three preschool and one kindergarten). I still have fifth grade graduation, eighth grade graduation, high school graduation, college graduation, and – given where the job market is headed – post-graduate graduation.

Yikes!

While the preschool graduations have included children too young to really get what’s going on, they figured it out by kindergarten. They had the official caps – with tassels moved from right to left at the conclusion of the graduation – and they entered and exited to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance.” They were called up one by one to receive their diplomas from the principal, and they had a full performance of songs and poems they learned throughout the year.

In the audience were moms, dads, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and more, many of whom took the day off work to attend the celebration. Video cameras proliferated (and I’ll admit to being among that crew – but because it was a cool performance, not because it was graduation), as did balloons that made it hard to see, bouquets of flowers, and other presents for the graduates. All parents were asked to bring in snacks and drinks for the post-graduation celebration.

It was a Big Deal.

I’m almost afraid to see what the fifth grade and beyond graduations will look like. The simple bouquet of flowers many parents brought won’t be enough for the next one, I’m sure. The single balloon attached to a present? It’s got to be bigger and better then.

The huge parties that many kids had with their families following the graduation? Well, graduating from eighth grade is more important, right? So it’ll have to be a bigger party, I’d assume – with more people, more stuff and oh yeah more money.

Then there’s the sixteenth and eighteenth birthdays. And the remaining graduations. And most likely a wedding. And showers for babies.

At what point does it become a letdown? At what point do we say that enough is enough. Yes, you finished kindergarten. That’s great – we’re proud of the hard work you did. Now let’s go enjoy summer. When is that enough of a reward? When do we simply enjoy the intrinsic value of an accomplishment without requiring a huge blowout as proof that we did well.

Along those same lines, when do we help our children understand what real life looks like – what we can and can’t afford on a regular basis and what they’ll be able to afford when they are on their own an in charge of their expenses. It worries me that every event has to be bigger and better because their expectations get set so high that anything else becomes a letdown.

My goal as a parent is to raise children who are happy and well-adjusted and able to find something that they are passionate about as they grow and become adults in their own right. As cool as it would be, they won't have people cheering them on for every minor achievement going forward, nor should they. Making everything in life a bigger and bigger celebration? I just don't see it helping.

Michelle isn't always such a curmudgeon and is very proud of the accomplishments her children have achieved. When she isn't attending yet another graduation, you can find her blogging at Honest & Truly! and Honest and Truly Reviews, as well as on Twitter. This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post.

Mom vs. World

2010-06-18T02:00:00-07:00

Today's Red Eye had a fun little feature they called "Stroller Wars: Kids in public stir grand debate." The cartoon mom and non-mom duking it out on the front cover were cute enough. (Notice the mom in plain-jane proletariat clothing and the non-mom decked out in pearls and rosy lip gloss to match her blouse. And shoes!)

Because you, dear reader, are too busy enjoying Housewives of Orange County on Hulu or browsing online to upgrade your Bugaboo, I'll summarize the article for you: Kid-less Chicagoans are fed up with whiny, bratty children taking over their precious cafes and restaurants. Moms (including fellow bloggers) protest saying that taking kids out in public teaches them social skills and that even the most angelic can act out without warning (this I can attest to).

Look. I see both sides of this argument. I do. I'll be honest and say that I love my children to death, but other people's kids -- not so much. Especially when in public and grabby and shrill and frenetic -- and unsupervised. When I go out on a date with the hubs the last thing I want to see is more children. For kids that do act out, it is the absolute responsibility of the parent to pluck them out of the situation before you can say "I think someone needs a time-out" and discipline them. If they keep misbehaving, you leave so the child learns consequences.

On the other hand -- and the upper one at that -- let me share a profound secret:

Children are people too.

Which means that, though all of them are still developing nervous systems and social skills, they are incredibly complex, wonderful individuals who shouldn't be immediately typecast as the second coming (or third? Or fourth? I don't remember) of Chuckie. On top of that, they have minds of their own sometimes and do or act in ways that can be unpredictable no matter how well they've been "trained" ( I hate that word, for what it's worth). After a while, we moms get tired of apologizing profusely for our children being...well, childish.

This is what gets me, though. Sometimes the reaction to children in public is just as big of a temper tantrum as the kind they're railing against. It's just, for some reason, more socially acceptable. So which one, really, is the greater offense?

picture of my 2 year old fussing in, God forbid, a public space. I made sure to notify everyone within a 3-block radius.

Farewell to Facebook--for the Summer

2010-06-17T16:27:46-07:00

I deactivated my Facebook account this morning. It was bittersweet but strangely cathartic at the same time. I feel like I spend so much time purging the notification emails which of course strike a curiosity and then I'm back on, checking to see what others are up to.

My iPhone has made it way too easy (and no, I'm not giving it up!) to stay plugged in and I made the decision late last night that enough is enough. Time to purge years of emails and go offline for awhile--maybe even just for the summer.

Now when I mean offline, I don't mean completely. I did delete 30000 "conversations" in my Gmail as well this morning and it really felt good! It's a little strange to open Outlook and there is only one item in my Inbox.Email is a form of communication between my son's Day Camp and his t-ball coach so I will check it regularly.

I'm even tempted to do something a little crazy and get a typewriter so my kids and I can create stories and publish our own books--the old fashioned way---on paper without a monitor or the distraction of the internet.

But for now, I'm Facebook free and it will be an interesting experiment. Who knows what time I will have on my hands now to actually get some household projects done and maybe even purge my closets and drawers of years of paper and unused clothes and other such things.

Wish me luck--I'm going to need it!

This is an original Chicago Moms Blog Post.

Sillybands taught me a lesson on when to step in and when to step back...

2010-06-16T12:00:00-07:00

Anyone with a child from the ages of 3-12 knows EXACTLY what Sillybandz are. On the off chance that you haven't been sucked into the latest fad of the year; briefly explained, they are little rubber bands that kids wear on their wrists. When removed, these colorful bracelets snap into an assortment of cool shapes. It's uncommon to see a group of children without bands covering their forearms in my town. Really, they're an adorable fad and I was happy to buy a couple of packets for my children to share. They divided up 2 packs of 20 between all 3 and each had several to wear and trade with their friends. My sons were mildly interested in them, but it was my 4 year old daughter who gleefully raced into our yard as soon as we got home to flaunt her precious bracelets. Each time she dashed back inside, she sported a different assortment from her many trades with the neighborhood girls.

"Remember," I cautioned, "only trade 1 for 1. Don't be taken advantage of!"

"Ok, Mommy! I'll be careful!" and off she went...

By day two, the 9 bracelets she had started off with were down to 7.

"Where'd they go?" I asked. "Did you give some to the kids who didn't have any?"

"No, I traded them with Missy*. She said I had to give her 2 for this one because it's RARE!"

I sighed and reminded her that she now had only 7. "If you keep trading 2 for 1, you'll end up with only one!" She swore up and down that she would take better care of this uncommon privilege I had allotted her. (My family is one that has suffered the joys of the wonderful economic status that is all too common. The $4 I spent on the bands was definitely a well-thought-out decision).

Another day passed. As she was getting ready for bed, I saw her wrist with only 2 bracelets on it. I am not proud of the way that I reacted. I actually YELLED at my 4 year old for trading away all of her precious rubber bands. My initial response was (and still is) anger at the fact that my child was taken advantage of. Her desire to be included in the trading and bartering of the older kids resulted in a nearly empty wrist that I refuse to purchase more bracelets for. I vented my anger to my husband and he voiced what my first plan of action had been, "Why not just call her mom and ask for them back?"

Sigh... I could. I could easily call my neighbor and explain how her daughter's collection (which is already well over 200 bracelets!) had recently grown. It would be simple and my own anger would be assuaged.

BUT. But this is a life lesson that I believe is extremely important. While it is admirable to be generous with your belongings and to share with your friends, you can become an easy target for those who covet your goodies. There is a difference between giving a precious bracelet to a child who doesn't have any and having an older friend that you trust convincing you that the piece of rubber SHE has is more valuable than the piece of rubber YOU have. I know that learning this lesson at 4 may just save her some grief in her teen or adult years. And, if she has to get ripped off by a loved one, I'd rather she get gypped out of $.60 of rubber bands.

*Not her real name

An original Chicago Mom's Blog Post

When not caring and homeschooling her 3 kids, Tracey also writes at Just Another Mommy Blog.

Parenting Deadline

2010-06-16T05:00:00-07:00

As a writer, I justify my procrastination habit by claiming that I thrive under deadline pressure. But there is a pressing deadline looming large on my horizon that has me hyperventilating: my daughter is going off to college for the first time at the end of the summer.

That's right, I have fewer than 12 weeks to cram in all the parenting that I haven't managed to do in the last 18 years. First step, making appointments to get her wisdom teeth out, see the pediatrician one last time, and four or five other doctor visits so she can avoid the campus health clinic for as long as possible. (Done.)

Next, we definitely need to work on laundry. I taught her twin brother how to do laundry when he made noises about not going to college, but she has benefitted from my laundry largess for far too long. Then we have to work on making plane, train and shuttle arrangements for trips to and from Massachusetts. We also need to cover how to pack a ridiculously large bedroom that she has never had to share so that it fits into a dorm room with at least one roommate. (Not done.)

Sure, we've repeatedly discussed boys, drinking, smoking, drugs, partying, safe sex, and safe internet practices (you did not just see me patting myself on the back). We've even talked about the relative dangers of getting involved with older men and the pitfalls of falling for your professors. But what about the more subtle lessons of protecting yourself from users, being generous without giving away your soul, being open to new relationships while keeping your heart reasonably safe from unscrupulous manipulators. (Not done.)

What about all the stuff I need to teach her about men. Like how you should go for nice. Nice lasts. Good hair recedes and turns grey; tight abs turn into pot bellies; and you can buy your own damn car — but nice is a rare quality that should be sought and, if found, held dear. (Not done.)

How do I teach her to reach for the moon without forgetting her roots? To carry us with her without letting us weigh her down? To treasure every moment of the next four years as what will likely be the most exciting time of her life until she has children of her own? (Not done.)

How can I help her understand that the decisions she makes from here on out will have a lasting impact on her life, but that there is always time to change and grow? To be bold and brave, but not stupid? (Not done.)

How can I let her know how much she is loved and treasured, and how deeply she will be missed, without making her feel guilty or too frightened to move ahead? Most importantly, how can I send her forth with joy without letting her know that, inside, my heart is breaking? (Definitely not done.)

Clearly, this deadline is unrealistic. If anyone knows where I can file for an extension, please contact me.

When Susan Bearman isn't busy racing the clock, she can be found writing at Two Kinds of People and The Animal Store Blog, and freelancing at www.bearman.us. This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post.

Why am I Still Seeking Sleep?

2010-06-15T09:00:00-07:00

When our twin girls were first born, we didn't expect to sleep. We knew we'd be up most of the time feeding, changing diapers, etc. Once someone asked me how much sleep I had gotten the night before. I hesitated and said, "About seven hours." She said, "So why are you so tired?" Well, I was still tired because it wasn't seven consecutive hours. It was broken night of sleep -- one hour here and two hours there. The sum total sounded better than it was.

Now our girls are six years old. They go to bed about 8:00 p.m. I try to get to bed within a couple of hours after that. It sounds like I should be well-rested. So, why am I still trying to get enough sleep?

My new sleep problem is my husband. It's not the stereotypical snoring problem that keeps me awake. It's his internal clock.

He decided about a year ago that he wanted to get into the office earlier and get home earlier. This has several advantages, especially for someone who takes the train. The parking lot is pretty empty. The trains are not packed. He gets to work before most people, so he takes advantage of a little peace and quiet before the rest of the office arrives. He likes getting home earlier to spend a little more time with the girls each night. It's all good during the week.

The problem is he cannot seem to turn off his new, earlier routine on the weekends. Even on days when we have no reason to get out of bed early, he wakes up before the sun. No matter how tired he is the night before, he will always wake up at the same time.

It's the same problem we have with the girls. No matter when they go to bed, they wake up between 6:30 a.m. and 7:00 a.m. Given their early start to each day, I realize I won't be sleeping until Noon. I would just like the extra hour or so that the weekend affords.

I keep hearing that by the time the girls are pre-teens and teenagers, I'll have to drag them out of bed each day. The legend goes that they will sleep until Noon every chance they get. I like to think that some day they will sleep a bit later in the morning, especially on weekends. The problem now is how do I get my husband to sleep until 8:00 a.m. or so?

This is an original Chicago Moms Blog post. Shari can be found at Two Times the Fun. Photo courtesy of Stock.Xchng.

Proud of a Quitter

2010-06-15T05:00:00-07:00

I am officially done being a soccer mom. Perhaps I should feel less influential since politicians and marketers often target soccer moms, but I'm actually feeling great relief. My 13-year-old daughter's participation in both "travel" soccer and competitive cheerleading was putting quite a strain on our time and finances.

But it was all part of the common parental quest to have kids try as many activities and sports as possible. Between my son and daughter, we've been through everything from pottery classes to ice skating to football, baseball and basketball. It's like throwing 800 darts at a board to see what sticks.

Now, it seems the darts that weren't on the bullseye are falling out. Despite success in soccer, my daughter recently decided not to tryout for next season. She's quitting. Hallelujah!

We've all read about overbooked kids. Competitive parents want their little darlings to be the chosen ones because all those lessons and tutors gave them "the edge". Who has that much time and money?

Ironically, my daughter is spending some of her new free time playing the piano. For years, we insisted on piano lessons and put up with a lot of griping about practice. She had asked to quit repeatedly but we didn't allow it until we agreed piano is just not her "thing" and it's another expense we could do without.

I'm glad she rescued that dart on her own and put it back on the board. I smiled to myself last month when I heard my kids having a "Moonlight Sonata" competition at the piano. Of course, Mom thinks they both play it beautifully.

Anyone interested in taking my soccer mom chairs? I have several versions and will not miss sitting along the sidelines, especially in the rain and snow.

This is an original post by Nancy Loo for Chicago Moms Blog. When she isn't enjoying time with her kids, Nancy works as a Reporter/Fill-in Anchor at WGN-TV. She also serves as Managing Editor of YoungChicagonista.com and has her own blog "Big Tiny World" at ChicagoNow.

When A Celebration Isn't

2010-06-14T12:00:00-07:00

I saw a news article yesterday about a father and son who were arrested in Naperville for their “celebration” of the Blackhawks victory. They don’t appear to understand why they are both in jail, and I’m not sure if I’m more sad or scared. Their attempted celebration? Shooting off guns in their backyard. And drinking – underage drinking, in fact.

Really, this is a celebration? Forget the fact that shooting guns is illegal for a moment. Why would you even think that it would make sense to shoot guns in a neighborhood where people live?

The stories of stray bullets from drive-by shootings should be information enough that this isn’t smart. If they need more, look to the stories of celebrations where guns are fired into the air – although they claim they fired all their rounds into the ground with errr assault rifles? – and how the bullets don’t just disappear into space. They do come back to earth, and all too frequently land somewhere unexpected, like in a person.

But the bigger question to me is why this is considered celebratory to begin with. What is it about shooting a gun that says, “I love my hockey team, and they just won the Stanley Cup for the first time in forty-nine years!”

I don’t get it.

I also don’t get how parents think it’s ok to flaunt the law – because it doesn’t apply to them? What message are you sending when you tell your child that it’s ok to drink before it’s legal? What message are you sending to your child that guns are toys and to be played with, not given the proper respect they require?

It isn’t just limited to guns, however. We have the same type of problem where I live with fireworks. And proof that this is the message being sent to children? When we first moved into our house four years ago, fireworks were set off nightly in the week before the Fourth of July. They were generally fairly late at night, and they lasted anywhere from five to ten minutes. In the intervening four years, it’s gone from a few people doing this – judging by where the bursts are originating – to a nightly affair that starts on Memorial Day weekend and lasts for the majority of July.

You can walk down the street of our neighborhood (note: neighborhood – where houses are close together and families live) and see dads setting off major fireworks with their elementary aged children and their friends. You witness the unsupervised middle school kids setting off fireworks that – presumably – their parents supplied. And it goes on for hours. It isn’t just the little pops but the giant fireworks with the booms that you can see and hear from miles away. It’s the half hour “shows” that people put on where neighbors bring coolers over to witness – at 11pm.

I’m positive that I didn’t miss the message about fireworks being legal. And I’m more than certain that I didn’t miss the etiquette change that made it ok to put your neighbors’ possessions in danger from the sparks emanating from the “festivities” and perfectly acceptable to wake up small children screaming from the noises they heard.

But again, aside from the illegality and disrespect of what I see occurring around me, I worry for what these children are learning from what they see their parents doing. How many of them are going to continue to carve out exceptions from themselves when it comes to the laws and respect for others? What sort of adults will they be as their level of common courtesy falls to new lows?

And when my neighbor is shocked that her kids hosted a party when she was out of town and there was thousands of dollars in damage afterwards – that none of the kids who attended nor their parents were willing to pay for. Me? Yeah, that doesn’t come as a surprise at all.

Michelle isn't always such a curmudgeon, but she treasures her children's sleep. When not on the lookout for fireworks in her neighborhood, you can find her blogging at Honest & Truly! and Honest and Truly Reviews, as well as on Twitter. This is an original post to the Chicago Moms Blog.

Image: Arvind Balaraman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Parents for More Pleasant Pediatric Waiting Rooms

2010-06-14T02:00:00-07:00

I'm a veteran of pediatric waiting rooms: I sit in a clinic somewhere in the city and its surrounding suburbs at least twice a week for an hour at a time. It's the hour that kills you.

It doesn't make sense to hop in your car and drive 15 minutes (because everything is always 15 minutes away) to the nearest Target/Best Buy/grocery store. You'll only have to turn around and go back once you're there. If you do go, it's always this stressful hunt for exactly what you're looking for and an equally stressful wait in line to pay. Unless the clinic is in the heart of a "walking" neighborhood, where there are shops and cafes right around the corner, you're pretty much left to, well, wait.

These rooms are awful. Horrible. They cater to the kids, which is great. Lots of Lego's, games, books, and all sorts of stuff that other kids have sneezed on and licked. But when the hour starts and all the kids leave, we parents are left to suffer in uncomfortable chairs with no back support and a mess of germ-infested toys.

The better clinics include a TV, which is great if all the parents decide they like the one show that's on. But the TV ain't so hot when a waiting sibling wants to watch Wow! Wow! Wubbzy, or if you'd rather spend your wait in absolute silence, a rare parental treat. I've been to another clinic where there was coffee service, definitely a step in the right direction. I have to admit always being wary of the stir-sticks though. On more than one occasion, I've seen someone's grubby paw grab a whole bunch of them while an adult gently chides, "Those aren't for you; put them back." Yuck.

As of today, I'm making it my personal mission to advocate for a better waiting room experience. Let's face it: if you're the parent of a child who needs any type of therapy, you deserve to spend that hour in a more pleasant setting!

Here's what I'm proposing:

1. Nap room -- a dark room with reclining chairs so us over-tired moms and dads can catch our Z's

2. Play room -- a separate area with a soundproof glass wall where waiting siblings can play to their heart's content or watch TV while the parents keep an eye on them

3. Waiting room -- more reclining chairs meant only for adults; plenty of outlets for them to plug-in their computers and recharge their phones; magazines with topics that allow you to escape the complexities of the world; an assortment of juices and teas and filtered water; a TV whose sound can only be accessed through sanitized and replenished headphones that plug into the reclining chairs

4. Spa -- I'm not joking here -- what if you could drop off your kid and get a half hour massage or manicure/pedicure or a steamy facial? You'd do it in a heartbeat...

If you're a waiting room veteran like me, surely you agree. Let's start a movement -- Parents for More Pleasant Pediatric Waiting Rooms! Who's in?

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cms8741 wrote this in the waiting room while listening to some kid play his hand-held video game at levels so loud she can no longer think straight. She also blogs at Hopeful Parents. This is an original post to Chicago Moms Blog.

Martha Spoke to Me

2010-06-13T09:02:00-07:00

It took a recent episode of my grandson's favorite TV show, Martha Speaks, to finally understand a little better the frustration my mother might have felt in the early 80's when she, in one fell swoop, disposed of my entire beloved, naked Barbie doll collection with bad haircuts and straight pin earrings, all of my baby dolls and every stuffed animal I ever owned. She'd finally had enough and was doing something about regaining control of her house and her space.

In TD, The Pack Rat, TD has too much junk. Junk he picks up on his way home from school or at a yard sale. TD has so much junk he can't get out of his room.

Much like TD, I've accumulated a lot of stuff. Not to the extent of Hoarders, but more stuff than I would be able to use in a lifetime.

Stuff that I'd bought on sale with the intent of giving as a gift. Stuff that I'd picked up at garage sales and thrift stores that I'd planned on selling on eBay at a profit. Stuff that I just felt I had to have at the moment. Stuff that the kids accumulated over the years. So much stuff that the kettle is gonna blow soon!

I have very limited storage space in our 1800 square foot home without a basement and the stuff is starting to stress me out!

With the help of websites such as Freecycle, Craigslist, eBay and eBay Classifieds, I can find loving new homes for my stuff. I've donated countless bags of stuff to organizations such as Purple Heart and Vietnam Vets to be sold in their thrift stores.

I've participated in the Neighborhood Garage Sale, where I made a whopping $200 profit that went straight to my credit card company, to help pay off stuff that I bought long ago and am still paying for! It's a vicious cycle that I'm trying really hard to break. I'm attempting to reduce, reuse and recycle.

It's a very slow process for me - getting rid of clutter - but I need to let go. It's the grown up thing to do and it's so liberating.

I'm trying to de-clutter with the least amount of guilt, after all, I'll always have the memories in my heart and it's time to move on.

This is an original post for Chicago Mom Blog. Stop by and visit Rita at Look It's Meg Ryan's Mom, or if you need something special just tweet her at @megryansmom. She just may have what you're looking for stashed in the back of a closet and if not, she'll let you know where you might find it.

Bedtimes and Blackhawks

2010-06-12T02:03:00-07:00

My husband and I have always insisted on early bedtimes for our children. These days, for example, my three year old -- who has recently sworn off his afternoon nap -- is in bed by 7 pm, and my six year old turns her light off at 8:15 pm. We stick to this schedule pretty religiously regardless of weekends or holidays. I'm not sure how we become such bedtime fanatics; I suspect it has to do with reading Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, the famous sleep training book by Chicago pediatrician Marc Weissbluth, while we were still new parents and therefore impressionable. By now, of course, we recognize that early bedtimes are not only good for our children; they are also equally good for us as parents -- specifically parents who like to have time to themselves in the evenings.

But as my daughter has gotten older, we have started to make some exceptions to our early bedtime rule for special occasions. She is not a baby any more and we know that she won't turn into a Gremlin if she is allowed to stay up past 9 pm. When my brother-in-law got married last fall, for example, and Zuzu fulfilled her lifelong dream of being a flower girl, we told her that she could stay up as late as she wanted at the wedding. She was an absolutely perfect wedding guest -- if you include dancing on stage with the band as acceptable wedding guest behavior -- until 11 pm when she declared herself done and asked to go to bed.

Even Dr. Weissbluth would probably concede that a family wedding is a good reason to allow a first grader to stay up until 11 pm. I don't know if he would consider the NHL play-offs as compelling a reason, even when the Chicago Blackhawks are playing in them. Nevertheless, on the morning of Game 6 of the Stanley Cup finals, my husband informed me, in no uncertain terms, that Zuzu could stay up to watch the end of the game if she wanted to, and that he had told her as much. I didn't really object -- summer vacation had started and the child didn't have anything to wake up for -- but it was so unlike him, that I couldn't resist teasing him a little. "Are you insane?" I asked. "How late is that game going to go?"

My husband would not be swayed, however, and that was when I realized that I was not simply dealing with a father who was excited that his daughter was showing an interest in hockey; I was dealing with a lifelong sports fan for whom watching an important game was a special occasion worthy of staying up late. Apparently, when my husband was a boy, his family had not realized just how special it was to watch the big game until the end, and were not always so flexible about bedtime. In fact, what it boiled down to was this: my husband was still bitter about being forced to go to bed before the end of the 1984 Orange Bowl -- considered by some to be the greatest college football game of all time. Later that day, my husband explained in an email:

"The 1984 Orange Bowl pitted the undefeated and #1 Nebraska Cornhuskers against the University of Miami Hurricanes. The 'Canes were 10-point underdogs but jumped out to a 17-point lead. Nebraska came back, in part on the strength of a touchdown by lineman Dean Steinkuhler on the rarely-seen "fumblerooski" play. Trailing 31-17 in the fourth quarter, the Huskers got two touchdowns -- and after the second, Nebraska coach Tom Osborne (later a Congressman and now athletic director at Nebraska) decided to go for two and the win. Based on the results earlier in the day, Nebraska probably would have won the national championship with a tie, but instead Turner Gill's pass on the 2-point conversion was batted away. Miami vaulted to #1 for the first of its five national championships.

I know all this because I've read about it; I didn't actually watch the end of the game, because my grandparents made me go to bed long before Miami's defensive heroics preserved the win. I was 10 at the time. By the following year, my parents were letting me stay up to watch the World Series, but I still remember how frustrating it was not to be able to stay up for the 1984 Orange Bowl. That night was very much on my mind when I invited Zuzu to stay up with me for Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals."

Well, I can't argue with that. Mostly because I don't understand what he is talking about. But I do understand that Zuzu will always be able to say that she watched the Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup in 2010, and that is way more important than sticking to a bedtime.

An original Chicago Moms Blog post.

Emily writes about adjusting to life in the Midwest, where hockey is a much bigger deal than she ever knew, on her personal blog, West of the Loop.

Growing up is hard to do

2010-06-11T09:00:00-07:00

Remember when you were little and you believed your parents could fix ANYTHING? And then you got older and pretty much hated them because it seemed like they could barely function--they were imperfect humans like you were and you resented that A LOT? And then you matured finally and realized that wisdom and experience were worth something and ok, you didn't turn out totally off (or maybe you did and its nice to blame someone), and you got over it and realized you were empowered to change your own life (or you aren't) .

If you have been a parent, you get to see that narrative through the other set of eyes, because when they are first born you are terrified---they are so small and you need to take care of them and sometimes there are things you wish you could fix and you just can't. I remember when we got the diagnosis of celiac disease and after about 5 minutes of gratefulness that it wasn't a deadly disease, I started wishing and praying I could cure it so that my kid could have french baguettes some day. I felt powerless, really helpless. As the supposed to be omniscient parent you have the terrible responsibility of trying to make the world right. Of being someone's everything.

And then you get to be the brunt of all that frustration and anger when, sometime in their preteen years,they figure out you are not a demi god, but a flawed human, just like them.

As a species though, I think we keep looking for that all knowing parent who can fix the broken world we live in. And looking at the current state of affairs, I can't help feeling that as a people, we are about to have to grow up and come of age, and be the big people. I am not gonna get all political, but I will admit, I sure did look to government, and big institutions, to take care of complicated difficult things just as a child might look to a parent. I hoped the safety net would catch me if I fell, and I sure as heck hoped those bandaids like medicare and the FDA would cure my ills. I trusted them to keep my food and water safe.
But now I am the grown up, and as I watch the government and BP struggle to fix the nightmare of an environmental disaster in our life giving ocean, I am old enough to realize, suddenly and wrenchingly, that government is not Dad, or God, or anything other than a flawed human institution with strengths and weakness just like I have. Even if the smartest people are in the room, there might not be a right answer.

And I am mad. Because I sure do NOT want to grow up and realize that I am the one in the room who needs to solve the problem. So much responsibility.

And though I don't like being the only grown up, sometimes I need to take ownership of my "grown up" status, and be the problem solver. Accountability, not infallibility. As a culture I think we are all uncomfortably having to grow up. But given that there are some very big problems to solve, I think we are going to need all the big people to step up and help out, and dig out the band aids to fix the colossal boo boos we have created for our selves.

This is an original Chicago Mom's Blog. When not wishing someone ELSE would solve the problem, Angela also blogs at Domestic Blitz.