Deep South Moms

Silicon Valley Moms Group Acquired By Technorati Media

2010-11-15T16:51:29-08:00

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

Deep In The Heart

2010-06-30T09:49:48-07:00

Confession time: I am not really a Texan. Well, I guess that's not entirely true. I am a Texan Transplant. I moved here 2 years ago when my husband took a different job. Before we moved here, I told my husband that I could live in a lot of places, and that I could probably adapt to most any climate or landscape or population. But not Texas. Hey-ell no.

But, as fate would have her way with us (as she always seems to do), we ended up in Texas. The job my husband took had a few locations available that we could choose from and it seemed that going to Texas was the best of the bad choices we had. At the time, it was like picking between a root canal and getting a tooth pulled - we couldn't do neither and we couldn't do both, so we had to pick. And pick Texas we did.

We moved to the Dallas/Ft.Worth Metroplex in May of 2008. Lots of folks we met said, "Oh you got here just in time for the heat. Yeah, it's pretty hot here in the summer." We laughed and shrugged. I mean, how hot could it really be? We'd had our share of 100+ degree weather in the midwest, right?

Oh. My. God. And Hello? I don't even live in SOUTH Texas. Sure, the Midwest has 100+ degree days, but they're like 2 or 3 in a row, and then there's a break in the "heat wave". And, it gets cooler at night so you can actually sit outside after the sun goes down and have a beer while watching the bugs get zapped in your flourescent bug light. But here? The 100+ degree days are just the NORM. They go on for weeks at a time. No one even comments about how hot it is because it's just the way it is in Texas. And as for going out at night after the sun goes down? Well, that's fine as long as you are comfortable in 90+ degree weather at midnight. If I could harness all the sweat from the people in Texas, and turn it into pure energy, then maybe we wouldn't have to pay outrageous amounts for our deregulated electricity.

I think the main reason I didn't want to live in Texas was because I feared being an outsider. I knew that Texas residents took great pride in their state. I mean, hell, who DOESN'T know that? Can you think of any other state where it's residents readily fly the state flag in front of their houses, sometimes instead of an American Flag? I could give you a hundred other examples of why I would clearly stick out like a sore thumb as the person who is NOT a Texas native. I didn't even know what a bluebonnet looked like. Shame on me. I just didn't want to spend another few years trying to fit in, trying to make friends, trying to break into some cliqueish circle of women with big hair, manicured nails, and eyelash extensions.

I guess I envisioned myself being friends with the Dallas cowboy cheerleaders?

So, guess what happened? We moved here and live on a cul-de-sac with other people who don't look like they're from Texas. Well, at least, not my preconceived notion of what "Texas people" look like. No one had hair that required a teasing comb to style. No one wore rhinestone-studded blouses. No one drove stretch Cadillacs. Well, at least, none more than in any other place. Which just goes to show that some stereotypes fit but some are just a myth. For me, I was glad to meet other moms who were a lot like me. Some had different values, some had different economic situations, some had different family structures. But we all had a common bond: we loved our children. We had times when we doubted ourselves. We appreciated the closeness that came from having a friend. We came together to laugh and support each other and gain perspective. As it turns out, being in Texas didn't end up feeling so far away from home. It turned out to BE home.

Thank you, Deep South Moms Blog, and all the sister sites of Silicon Valley Moms Blog, for being a home to my voice and that of so many other women.

This is an Original Deep South Moms Blog. Gretchen, a.k.a. Texan Mama, spends her days finding rogue singleton socks and tending to the dozen feet that wear those socks. She resides in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex with her husband, 5 children, and one dog (who doesn’t wear socks). In her spare time, she blogs at Who Put Me In Charge Of These People???

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.

How dare he!

2010-06-18T12:44:08-07:00

Postpartum depression (PPD) is a force unlike any other I've been faced with. It grabs you by the throat and holds your head under water until you feel like every ounce of air left in your lungs is about to give way. Then one day, like a light switch being turned off, it's gone. Just like that.

Postpartum depression isn't an illness that eases you through stages. You actually start out at rock bottom and then it gets worse. It's horrifying.

A few days ago, I had an ordinary post up on my blog. I fully mention in my "About Me" section of my blog that I am a PPD survivor. One of my followers left a comment at this ordinary post with a P.S.

She writes: "P.S. I'm right there with ya on the PPD. I had SEVERE PPD after my second daughter. I had a doctor tell me not to have any more kids because I was guaranteed to have PPD with next one. Well, after my son, no PPD! So glad I didn't listen to that quack!"

This got me really thinking. I have three children. My oldest is fifteen, my middle child is eleven and the youngest is fifteen months. Lots of space between (I'm a little crazy, I know!). I didn't have a lick of PPD with either of the first two. After my last son, I felt as though my emotions had crawled into a dark cave and remained in the shadows for months. Even a hint of sunlight on my emotions had them creeping backward, scraping fingernails against the wall, to reach back into the darkness. It was really bad.

It has me often wondering, if I had PPD with my first child, would I have chanced having another? Would the thought of PPD coming back into my life keep me from having more children? I don't know how to answer that.

I'm thirty-three years old today. I have no desire to have more children. I can't help but wonder though, if I did have another child, would I also give birth to PPD all over again or would I be able to eliminate it before it even began? Would I be medicated as soon as the head came out? What precautions would be taken?

My follower's doctor actually had the nerve to tell her not to have anymore children. That PPD is in fact inevitable from here on out for her. Is a doctor even allowed to this? Had my follower listened to her doctor, she wouldn't have been blessed with her son. Could you imagine?

Photo Credit: Postpartum Progress

Pamela tracked her emotions on her blog 2 Much Testosterone during her struggle with postpartum depression. She is very open, honest and often times very raw in her posts. If Pamela is able to reach even one woman with PPD to get the help she needs, then the journey was worth it.

This is an original Deep South Moms post.

Oh Manners, Where Art Thou?

2010-06-17T02:00:00-07:00

I am having a party on Thursday through HouseParty.com. It's a fun site that connects companies who want to market their products to the public with people willing to host parties and use the products sent to them. The hosts are not agents of the company, but rather just folks who want to throw a party and have a good time, using some stuff they got for FREE to try out. Through the HouseParty.com website I could fill in e-mail addresses and folks could RSVP electronically OR by calling me.

So, my party is a Hasbro Party. We are going to play Trivial Pursuit, Taboo, and CatchPhrase. I invited about 20 people, including friends from church, our neighborhood, and my husband's work. So, the party is in one day from now. And... two people are coming. One couple. Three other people (one couple and a single) have RSVP'ed "no" but everyone else is MIA. All I can say is, What. The. Frack?

Has our society really come to this? That it's okay to say , "I'm really busy. My life is really crazy." to excuse our impolite behavior? Since when is it okay to ignore a party invitation? I'm not trying to pout or be all, poor pitiful me, but hello? I have to buy food and supplies and I'm even providing a babysitter so that people can bring their kids along. I need to know exactly how many kids are coming! And, YES I PUT ALL THIS IN THE INVITATION!!!

Maybe I'm running on fire from my hurt feelings. Maybe I'm just pissed because of my husband's lackluster attitude about anything social. But, I know these feelings aren't new. My daughter had a birthday party at a skating rink in October. She invited 12 kids and only 4 RSVP'ed at all. My son had a party at a movie theater in April and he invited 8 kids - ONE RSVP. Am I the only one who thinks this is rude? Are people unaware that RSVP stands for "Repondez S'il Vous Plait", which is french for "Respond, if you please." So, call either way, if you're coming or not. "Regrets only" means I'm assuming you're coming unless I hear otherwise. But I didn't do that. I asked people to Respond, if they please. Apparently, they didn't please.

I'm not going to say that I'm perfect - I have had a time or two that I've completely blanked out about responding to a party in time for the RSVP date. But when that happens, I'm not all casual like, "Meh. So?" I am apologizing profusely, asking about the party, how it went, offering to get together again at a later date. But all I hear nowadays is, "Oh, we had something else going." or "Oh, I forgot about that." or "I'm just too tired."

I don't begrudge anyone their time for themselves. Everyone needs it - myself included. But, really, is it so hard for someone to tap-tapity-tap their fingers to send me an email, telling me they won't be here? SHEESH.

This is an original Deep South Moms Blog post.

The South is Almost Like Family

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

For the past hour I've been sitting outside in 80 degree weather and 70 percent humidity with my little book light and June bugs that seem to really like me.

I'm reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and yes, I know that books been out for a coon's age - 1994 to be exact.

Normally I steer clear of "southern fiction" like the plague...or Dr. Pepper. But my friend Alana loaned it to me and basically threatened bodily harm upon me if I didn't read the book.

The book's been sitting on my bedside table for the past three months and I finally decided to tackle the book - not without a bit of self-loathing since I had sworn off southern lit. after that whole semester of having As I Lay Dying crammed down my throat.

It's an understatement to say I wasn't expecting much from the book.

And I suppose it's not fair to say I never read books by southern authors. That's just not true. Ever heard of Charlaine Harris? If you've ever seen True Blood on HBO then you're watching an EXTREMELY loose interpretation of her - now 10 book long - series. What appeals to me about Harris's books is how the setting still manages to be given its just desserts without it becoming this huge, oppressive thing.

If I've learned anything from growing up in the South it's that while most southerners are mighty proud of where they grew up, very few put it up on a pedestal. Sure, it has some amazing stories and some of the people might be a tad bit more colorful than in other regions, but in the end, it's still just a place.

It's the people in that place who make it special.

Growing up in Arkansas, I never felt especially connected with the "culture". Sure, I can fry chicken with the best of them and I do in fact have a jar of bacon grease in my fridge [ice box as my grandma calls it] but the South I came of age in isn't like the place described in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

Maybe it's because of the setting being Savannah, GA which is known for its innate culture or maybe it's because John Berendt is from New York and he looked at Savannah with an outsider's prying eyes but the man managed to capture the good and bad parts of being southern without mocking it.

That's another thing I tend to hate about southern fiction: when the South is the main character, that character tends to get mocked.

The South is like a younger brother or sister or maybe even a younger cousin. I can beat the crap out of them but the second someone says something or lays a finger on them, game over, buddy.

This most definitely is NOT a book review; I'm not even a quarter of the way through the book. I've just been stuck a bit dumb by how Berendt's take on the South seems to resonate with me. It's the place I've always wanted to live. A place I don't quite recognize. But at the same time, I know the place. I know the people he wrote about - every southern town has these characters.

And back to that whole younger sibling/cousin analogy, the South might not be perfect - you just have to either live here or read this book to see that - but it's mine and I love that.

It's funny to me it took reading a book about the South, written by a Yankee, to make me fully realize how much I love the place

This is an original post to Deep South Moms.

When Amy isn't playing at the park with her kids, she writes at Taste Like Crazy and Sims 3 Gamer and is on Twitter...a lot.

Image/Flickr

Mind Over Body, or Body Over Mind

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

I just got back from the longest run I've ever done. It's no distance that will blow anyone away. Yet, if you'd have told me six months ago (really even 6 weeks ago) that I'd be out there running 25 minutes without stopping I'd have thought you'd lost your mind. Because I've tried running before and never been very successful. Actually, in the past it has basically been a disaster.

I'm following the Couch to 5 K running plan. I've tried it before, and I couldn't figure out why it was going better this time. Maybe it's because I weigh 20 pounds less than when I tried before. Or perhaps, it's because I've been exercising somewhat regularly for the last few years. Maybe it's because I told people my plan this time. Or because several of my friends started the program at the same time as I did.

The fact of the matter is, with the exception of weeks one and two, it hasn't been easy. I repeated week six because I had a really hard time hitting the 25 minute mark on the last day. I might stick around on week seven for an extra week as well. Is that the secret to this working this time? In the past if I couldn't hit a milestone exactly on time, I would quit. This time, I figure if it takes me the rest of my life to run 5K without stopping, it's okay. I just want to do it. I'd rather get there and then set a new goal, but for now I am content.

It's been a case of sometimes having my mind overpower my body. I spent awhile wishing I could have Jillian Michaels come scream at motivate me, but since she's a little busy, I figured I'd have to do it myself. So I sometimes mentally, and sometimes audibly (yep, I'm the crazy lady talking to herself while out on a run at 6 am) that I can do it. "You've got this! Only 5 more minutes." I rely on my mind to cancel out any negative thoughts of pain, exhaustion, or being out of breath. Twice during my run today my body, with no signal from my mind tried to walk. The legs just started slowing down. My brain then told them to kick it back into gear and they did. I continue to be amazed at the power of the mind over the body.

But what does a girl do when the mind is sending negative signals, telling her to stop? Sometimes I guess I'm just not fully on board. My mental energy is starting to fade and my thoughts turn to stopping. Well, this happened to me in week six and I had to create a distraction. Look at the birds, the cars, the other runners. Think about the kids, the husband, the upcoming fifteen year class reunion I'd love to look fab for. Anything to keep my mind off of stopping. On a recent run, where I was struggling to keep my breathing under control and my self preservation instinct was kicking in - telling me to stop - I had to override it. It was hard but my body pushed through. What helped me in that moment, was realizing that my legs were fine, and I was still getting enough oxygen, I just needed to stop with the gasping and breathe deeply.

So for whatever reason, I'm enjoying running. I don't necessarily love it when I'm breathless and my legs are sore, but I love the solidarity I feel with the other people who are up before sunrise, trying to do something good for their bodies. I certainly love how I feel afterward. Hello energy! Where have you been all these years? I used to let it bother me that I might be heavier than the other people out there. Or, I might look foolish, or my form might be wrong. I'm done with all of that. Getting past that negativity was the first step in making all of this come together.

I have no idea where this all we lead. I don't see myself running a marathon, but once I conquer that 5K distance I might just tackle 10. It's all a matter of letting my mind be in charge when my body is weak, and overcoming the negative thoughts when the brain isn't on board. Sometimes the mind has to play little tricks to control the body. And sometimes, the body has to push through long enough until the logical side of me believes that this is actually possible.

An original Deep South Moms post.

When Rebecca isn't sneaking out of her house at six in the morning to try to get a run in before the boys get up, she is busily chasing them and trying to make them behave. She blogs about her silly guys at Life With Boys.

The Toddler Manicure

2010-06-13T02:00:00-07:00

How young is too young to start getting manicures? I did not think this issue through until last month, when a friend's three year old daughter proudly displayed her pink toe nails. "She loved it!" my friend raved, telling me how much fun they had getting their nails done at their mother-daughter outing.

I'm sure my three year old would also enjoy the experience, so much so that I would probably never be able to pass by a salon with her without going in.

I worried how I would take the polish off (nail polish remover? Isn't that toxic?) and whether it would open the floodgates of grooming requests. Would she want to wax unwanted hair next?

I decided to would put off manicures until she was older.

Like many of my decisions, though, that was canceled out by circumstance.

On a very hot day, while waiting in line to get her face painted at a local summer festival, I noticed that the tent offering manicures was nearly empty.

Tired of standing in line in the hot sun (I am pregnant, and therefore often make choices based on where I might find a chair) I decided to make a beeline for the tent housing the toddler nail salon.

And my daughter was delighted. She watched with wonder as a six year old got sparkly purple polish, alternated with sparkly pink on her fingernails. After careful consideration, my daughter opted for a dusty rose on each finger.

I haven't attempted to take it off. And I hope that she and her little brother don't put her fingers in their mouths, and ingest chipped nail polish. Her hands look very mature with the polish -- an eerie reminder of how quickly she is growing up.

And of course, her nails are much neater and better kept than mine, another sign that when it comes to rules and toddlers, I have a lot to learn.

This is an original Deep South Moms blog. JillM also blogs at http://reversecultureshock.com/.

The Speed of Summer

2010-06-11T02:00:00-07:00

As a child Summer was a time of freedom. The days were long, endless, and full of adventures with friends, lightning bugs, and, a total escape from school. We would spend our days sleeping in, swimming at the community pool, playing in the hose, and running around the neighborhood until well after dark. Often times we'd head outside to play shortly after breakfast and would only make an appearance to refuel at lunch and dinner. Summer seemed magical somehow. It seemed to take forever to arrive, but when it did it meant we all had time to be kids - play, run, jump, laugh, and experience anything and everything that comes with warmer weather.

We always seemed to know when Summer was coming to an end without even looking at a calendar. The weather began to feel slightly more crisp in the mornings and in the evenings. Stores suddenly smelled like scotch tape, paper, and crayons. Parents even seemed more serious and focused rather than carefree. We were told we must go to be earlier to prepare for school and pot roast would suddenly replace grilled chicken for dinner. We began to taste the joys of Autumn.

That was twenty years ago.

It isn't the same now.

My children just began their Summer break a couple weeks ago and by August 2nd they'll be back in school for the new year.

August 2nd!!

When I originally looked over the school calendar and realized they were starting back to school in what tends to be known as the hottest month of the Summer here in the South, I was shocked. Where was there Summer break? Just as they begin to experience all the excitement of the break and the season they'll be forced to return to school.

There is something strange about bedtime at 8:00 when the sun is still up and folks are just beginning to mow their lawns. It doesn't feel right to think about backpacks, fresh supplies, and trips to the dentist when the heat index is hovering around 100 degrees. Back to school clothes become shorts, sandals, and short sleeves rather than the sweaters, jeans, and jackets I've always associated with the transition from Summer to Fall.

Labor Day used to be the turning point, the last huzzah of Summer before the streets were suddenly overrun with buses. By the time it rolls around this year my children will be halfway through their first grading period, the air conditioning will still be running, and the pools will still be open for the season. Sure, they now receive a Fall break and other numerous days off throughout the school year. But, I'd trade it all in to have them fully enjoy the fun of Summer while leaving the chaos of beginning school to it's rightful place in the Fall.

An Original Deep South Moms Blog Post. ChristinaY is a freelance writer and mother of three. In between loads of laundry and temper tantrums she's working on her PhD. She blogs about her adventures and misadventures at hooey!critic.

Reconnected

2010-06-10T09:14:00-07:00

More than a month ago I lost my cellphone. I'm fairly certain it's in the house somewhere. I remember putting it in my pocket to leave, but when I got to the car, it was gone. I opted not to go back in the house to look for it because my youngest two children were standing with their noses pressed against the front window, wailing because I was leaving them behind.

When I searched for it the next day, it was no where to be found. I offered my older girls ever-increasing rewards for finding it, but still no luck. Perhaps the toddler tossed it in the trash.

I was late to the cellphone party. My philosophy was that there was no one who needed to get in touch with me so desperately that they needed to call me in the car. With a few exceptions - family, close friends - I HATE to talk on the phone. I do most of my work via e-mail, which suits me to a T.

I changed my mind about getting a cellphone after there were two times when I was out and about with the girls that I really needed a phone. So I ended up with a hand-me-down from my husband's office, which was just fine. A few years later, I upgraded to a newer, less embarrassing model, but it was still a bare-bones phone. I could make and receive calls and send text messages, and that was it. No web access, no camera, no games.

So when my cellphone disappeared, I was really OK with it. I rarely used it anyway, and I constantly annoyed my husband by leaving it at the house when I went out. If I did have it, odds were the battery was dead or the phone was turned off.

But last week I decided it was time to replace the missing phone. My oldest daughter and I are going out of town this weekend, and I really don't want to travel without a way to touch base with my husband. I know back in the day we all went on trips without cellphones, but that was when there were pay phones, and I had a calling card.

After many trips to various AT&T stores and lots of phone calls, I bought myself an iPhone, and I am loving life with it. I've definitely gotten myself out of the habit of using the phone while I'm driving, which is a good thing. But it's so nice to be able to call my husband while I'm at the grocery store to see if we need a certain item.

The only downside is my instant and constant connection to e-mail. I'm a bit OCD about responding to e-mails, and having them pop up on my phone might lead to an intervention.

For the time being, though, I'm reconnected to the world, and it feels so good.

This is an original Deep South Moms post. When not playing with her new toy, Heather blogs about her life at The Days are JUST Packed.